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just-jordie-things · 4 years

Note

67 with Zuko please.

prompt 67: when one person stops the kiss to whisper, “I'm sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more ___

Zuko wasn’t very good at customer service, that much was... apparent.

But (y/n) knew he was trying, he just wasn’t used to waiting on other people. He’d grown up pampered, and never really learned to do basic things for himself.

Her heart went out to him every time he got someone’s order wrong, or he stumbled over his words, but on the other hand, (y/n) thought there was something adorable about the way he was a trained firebender and expert swordsman, and he could tell her everything about her posture that was unstately, and yet, the boy had a hard time remembering one order.

“They ordered Oolong,” (y/n) said sweetly, taking the pot that he was brewing and dumping it out.

Zuko gaped at her, about to protest that he was making Oolong, but she just as quickly showed him the tea he had been brewing was Ginseng.

“This is the Oolong” She corrected, and handed it back to him.

“Why don’t you just make it,” He grumbled. “Clearly you know what you’re doing and I don’t”

(y/n) rolled her eyes affectionately, and shoved the tea into his hands.

“You’ll never learn if you don’t practice” She tells him.

He remembers using those same words with her years ago, when they were just kids practicing their bending. From the smirk on her face, he can tell she remembers too.

“Can’t I just get Uncle to make it-”

“No, you have to make it,” (y/n) says, her voice stricter. “It’s not hard, Zuko. And I’ll help you. Also Iroh’s napping out back”

He sighs, and gets to work, following her little instructions here and there.

(y/n) had gotten a lot more snarky and confident since they’d come to Ba Sing Se. She was the way he remembered her when they were younger.

When she’d joined him on his little world mission on catching the Avatar, she’d caved into herself a little bit, spending more time with Iroh than she had with him, her best friend. Although Zuko couldn’t blame her, he hadn’t been the greatest friend at that time- no one wanted to be around him back then.

But something had changed, and she was just as bubbly and sweet as she’d been before. He knew that the change was his attitude, and that putting a pause on his little ‘honor chase’- as she’d called it- did wonders for their friendship.

He was even starting to think it was blossoming into something more, which... was diffrerent... but he wouldn’t mind all that much.

Now, when he looked at her, things were different.

Her hair looked softer, her eyes looked brighter, her lips, oh spirits, those lips...

“Zuko, it’s done,” (y/n) said, reaching out and lifting the kettle off the stove to silence it’s annoying whistling.

Zuko blinked and shook his head rapidly, zoning back into reality, while (y/n) was giggling and filling the tea cups.

“Where’d you go?” She asked teasingly.

“Nowhere” He muttered back, and she didn’t push it.

Zuko had been zoning out like that quite a bit lately.

“Well, it’s all ready, go ahead and take it” She said, lifting the tray and holding it out to him. He made a face, silently begging her to do it instead.

She thrust it forward, and gave him a pointed look.

“Please?” He begs, and (y/n) almost snorted.

She thought she’d never see the day that the Fire Prince begged her for something.

Azulon is rolling in his grave.

“Little customer service tip, just be pleasant, tell them you made it special, make up a lie that it’s your favorite, give them that dashing smile of yours, and you’ll be set”

He wants to complain some more, but now he’s flustered by her compliment, and she’d pushing the tray into his hands and shooing him out of the kitchen.

As he makes his way over to the only customers in the shop, (y/n) watches him fondly from the window of the kitchen.

He followed her advice, and smiled as he approached the couple, setting the tray down at the table.

“Here’s your tea, Oolong, my favorite” He said in a cheery enough voice that it sounded out of character.

(y/n) covered her mouth to suppress a laugh.

“No” Said the woman, pushing the tray back towards him, roughly enough that Zuko struggled to grab it before it could fall off the table.

“Uh, no?” He responded, awkwardly.

“I changed my mind,” The woman said, looking up at him with her nose in the air. “I don’t want Oolong. I want something more refined. Like Jasmine”

(y/n) grimaced at the way the woman spoke, like she was better than him. She knew just from the tone of her voice that it wasn’t true.

“Oh, okay, Jasmine,” Zuko nodded, lifting the tray again. “I’ll be right back with that”

“And don’t take so long this time!” The woman snarled. “Don’t you know who my husband is?”

Zuko glanced across the table to the man she was sat with, who looked tired of this act, but nonetheless raised his nose in the same way as his wife.

Actually, Zuko had known the man, he was a retired Fire Nation General. He couldn’t remember his name, and luckily he’d never met him, but he remembered his face from an old book his Uncle had given him years ago.

“Um...” Zuko mumbled, not knowing what to say.

The woman just scoffed, and waved him off with her hand.

“Go on now. My spirits these Earth Kingdom citizens are dunces-”

“Excuse me?” (y/n) was walking out of the kitchen now, approaching the table. She tried to keep herself collected and professional, but it was hard when she was boiling over with rage. “Is there a problem, ma’am?”

“No, no problem,” Zuko said quickly, holding the tray in one hand and using the other to take hold of her shoulder, before she could surge forward and say or do something she might regret. “I’m just going to go make Jasmine tea, now” He says, annoyed, but knowing things would just get worse if (y/n) went off on a couple of Fire Nation nobles.

“Jasmine, hm? Was there something wrong with the Oolong?” (y/n) asked the woman, shoving slightly against Zuko’s hold, but his grip tightened.

“Apparently it’s a simple commodity around here,” The woman said in her posh voice. “And I requested something more meant for a person of my... class,”

As she said the word, her eyes raked (y/n) up and down, before narrowing judgmentally.

“But what could I expect sitting in a tea shop owned by earth dwellers” She finished.

“Get out”

“(y/n)” Zuko hissed in her ear.

“Excuse me?” The woman was flabbergasted at such a threat. “Do you know who I am?”

“No, and I don’t give a shit,” (y/n) spat back, finally pulling out of Zuko’s hold to stalk towards the woman. “And you don’t wanna know me either, so get the fuck out”

Zuko was surprised that not once did (y/n) raised her voice, but the way she spoke lowly was almost worse. He just knew there was fire in her eyes, and he was pulling her back again before the woman could see it too.

The woman hurumphed, before standing and directing her husband to follow.

“Fine, I would hate to be seen in such a lowly establishment anyways!” She declared, before the couple stormed out of the tea shop.

(y/n) let out a huff, a strand of hair flying off her forehead and into the air, before landing back against her face.

“You shouldn’t have done that” Zuko sighed, letting her go, and heading back into the kitchen.

(y/n) followed after him, brushing her hands together to rid them of nonexistent dust.

“She was a bitch-”

“She was still a customer"

“So what? She was being cruel to you for no reason, she needed to be put in her place”

“That’s a sweet sentiment, (y/n/n), truly. But I don’t need you to protect me”

(y/n) turned to him and gave him a look, but he was grinning back at her. That stupid shit-eating grin that turned her heart to mush.

“I wasn’t protecting you, I was telling off a bitch of a customer with a prejudice against Earth Kingdom people- stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” Zuko asked, innocently, as he washed off the teacups and tray.

(y/n) crossed her arms, swiveling around on him to give him the same look he’d given her

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zuko shook his head at her dopey smile and fluttering eyelashes. “I don’t look like that”

“Yes, you do,” (y/n) giggles. “That’s exactly what you look like”

Zuko doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head, and focuses on the dishes.

(y/n) busies herself with organizing the tea cabinet, making sure everything is properly stocked and ready for the lunch rush in an hour or so.

“Thank you”

Zuko’s voice breaks the silence, and she looks over at him, a little surprised.

“What for?”

“For sticking up for me,” Zuko says, like it’s obvious. “And for trying to help me be... better”

(y/n’s) brows furrow, because she doesn’t think that he’s only referencing the customer service.

“You’re welcome,” She replies, her voice barely above a murmur.

He’s focused on drying the dishes, and he doesn’t look up at her, but a small smile tugs on the corner of his lips.

“Zuko, are you... happy here?”

“I mean, I’m not a fan of the waiting tables-”

“You know that’s not what I meant”

He looks up at her, stopping his ministrations in drying off a teacup as he studies her face.

“Yeah,” He answers, his brows drawing together. “I like it here,” He gives her a nervous smile as he continues. “I like what being here has done for, um, us,”

(y/n’s) brows lift in shock, and her heart skips a beat.

“I know that I wasn't a good friend to you-”

“Zuko-” She starts, but he shakes his head.

“No I mean it, I- I’m glad we came here because we’re close again and I just feel bad that I wasted so much time...” He shakes his head, and (y/n) steps forward, taking the rag and teacup out of his hands so she can grab onto his hands in hers.

“I know,” She says sweetly as she squeezes his hands. “I’m glad too”

It’s quiet as she looks him in the eyes, and Zuko realizes he’s started to zone out again the longer he looks at her.

She looks so pretty. Her hair is starting to fall from it’s messy ponytail, and her cheeks were flushed from the altercation with the rude customer. And her eyes were so bright, and round, and perfect.

As he looked down at her lips, her breath hitched in her throat, and she found her eyes were also wandering down to his lips.

It was a quick mood change, but the tea shop was empty, Iroh was out back, and they were the only two people left in the world.

(y/n’s) not sure who moved quicker, because they both crashed forward, their lips meeting in the middle in a heated and fast-paced kiss. A whimper died in the back of (y/n’s) throat as Zuko’s hands released hers so he could grab her waist, and lift her up with ease.

Her own arms wrapped around his neck for support before he set her on the counter, their lips not parting once.

But then he realizes what he’s done, and he pulls away from her for a breath.

“I’m sorry,” He pants, and her eyes flutter open to meet his, wondering why he stopped kissing her. “Are you sure you-?”

Before he could finish his question, she leaned back in and slotted her lips over his, her hands tangling into his hair and deepening their kiss impossibly so.

“You talk too much,” She murmured against his mouth. “Just kiss me”

It was a good relaxation method before the busy lunch rush for sure :) ___ xoxo ~ jordie

#atla #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko scenario

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sukifans · 4 years

Text

PET • RI • CHOR

[n] pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather

ZUKO X OC SERIES

SUMMARY: a captured waterbender and the fire prince may sound like an unlikely pair, but kena never much cared about others’ expectations and zuko, well… he was just along for the ride

⏎ MASTERLIST // PROLOGUE ii « PART I » PART II

“Hey, guys! Sorry we’re late,” Kena huffed, throwing herself into a seat. “Did you order already?”

“You’re always late, Sola. We expect it now.” Mona rolled her eyes teasingly.

“We got a pot of oolong,” said Kyali.

“I love oolong!” Jin clapped, sitting down.

Kena wrinkled her nose at the mere suggestion of oolong. “Ew, you know I hate oolong. Why did you do that?”

“Um, maybe because Jin was absolutely right about the cute waiter here being your type and you should definitely flirt with him when you order something else?” Oma said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, Sola. Ask him what his favorite is and then ask him to help you finish since it’s just you drinking it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Kena snorted. “Why do I need to order a whole new pot just to flirt with this guy?”

“Because you wouldn’t do it on your own, just like the guy at the noodle cart.”

“Ugh, he’s weird.”

“He’s hot!”

“He smells like broth, like, all the time!”

“I mean, she has a point.”

“Look, that’s him!” Mona elbowed Kena roughly and she winced, rubbing her arm.

“Ow, Mona!”

“Hush! He’s coming this way!”

Kena looked up as the other girls tittered to see what was indeed a very cute waiter walking towards them holding a tray with a teapot and several cups. He had scruffy-looking black hair, light amber eyes, and a large scar across the left half of his face. Kena couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him and it almost made her uneasy. Maybe he was from one of the villages she and her mother had visited and was here as a refugee, or maybe she’d just seen him around the city before.

“Here’s your oolong,” he said, sliding the tray onto the table. Kena noted he had a nice voice, which was always a bonus. It was somehow pleasingly rough and low while also smooth as the finest silk.

She almost got away with not saying anything until Jin piped up. “Sorry, our friend Sola here has a question for you!” She elbowed Kena from the other side and Kena kicked her under the table. The waiter turned back to the table and looked at her expectantly. She could feel her cheeks heat up a little under his gaze.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” she stuttered out awkwardly before clearing her throat. “My terrible, awful friends forgot I don’t drink oolong and I’ve never been here before. What do you like?”

The guy looked at her, confusion swirling in his eyes for some reason. Maybe she was familiar to him too, she thought vaguely. “My favorite is the jasmine.”

That surprised her for some reason. “Really?”

“What?”

“You don’t strike me as a jasmine kind of guy.”

“What kind of guy do I strike you as, then?” He asked, raising his eyebrow. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, at a loss for how to respond. It was a dumb thing to say in the first place, honestly.

“Never mind, forget I said anything.” She waved her hand dismissively and flushed a deep red as her friends giggled. “Jasmine sounds great, thank you...” she waited for his name.

“Lee,” he supplied, turning and leaving.

“Thanks, Lee!” she called before dropping her head on the table. The other girls erupted into laughter. “Spirits, I looked like an idiot!”

“No, no! That was good!” Oma choked out amongst her giggles.

“Then why are you all laughing?” This only made them laugh harder. Eventually, they all settled and Kyali wheezed as she patted her distraught friend’s hand.

“It’s okay, Sola. He’s totally into you.”

“How could you possibly know that? He looked at me like I had three heads,” Kena moaned.

“Uh, because he keeps staring over here ever since he left,” Jin whispered conspiratorially, ducking her head. Kena looked over and made brief eye contact with Lee. Both teenagers averted their eyes immediately to play it off and her friends started snickering again.

“You guys are the worst.” Kena buried her face in her hands to hide her blush.

“We’re just trying to set you up with a cute guy to take to the festival!” Oma said.

“I’m so bad at flirting, though!”

“So is he! That’s why it’s a good thing you’re both hot!”

“Jin!” Kena smacked Jin’s arm and, laughing, Jin pushed against her. The push caught Kena off guard and she fell backwards out of her chair, taking someone else down with her with a deafening crash.

“Oh, Sola! I’m so sorry!” Jin cried. Groaning, Kena sat up. Her stomach dropped when she saw Lee on the floor with her.

“Lee! Oh, spirits, I’m sorry! Jin pushed me and I-“ she sucked in a breath through her teeth as she started to notice the scalding tea that drenched the both of them. Lee propped himself up on his elbow, pushing his damp hair out of his eyes. “This tea is really hot. I think I might have some burn salve in my bag. I’m studying medicine and- what’re you looking at?” She paused her rifling through her bag when she noticed him just staring at her, brows furrowed.

“Your hand,” he said, reaching out. A large shard of porcelain from the teapot he’d been carrying was sticking out from the middle of her palm and blood slowly oozed from the wound. Already deep crimson splattered onto the floor, washing away in the puddles of tea. Kena flushed at the way he tenderly inspected her injury, holding her hand in one palm and pulling back her fingers with his other hand.

A stout old man walked out from the back room, looking concerned. Kena felt the same haunting familiarity looking at him that she felt when she first laid eyes on Lee. “What’s going- Lee! What did you do?” He rushed over to the scene of the accident.

“I’m sorry, sir; it was my fault,” babbled Jin. “I pushed my friend and she fell into Lee. Please don’t fire him! We’ll pay for the damages!”

“Fire him?” the old man chuckled. “He’s my nephew. I couldn’t fire him even if I wanted to. Lee, take the poor girl to the back to get fixed up with the first aid kit. I’ll clean up out here.”

Lee almost looked like he wanted to protest but instead he stood and helped Kena to her feet, still holding onto her hand. As he led her to the back room the old man had come from, Kena glanced over her shoulder and saw Kyali giving her a thumbs-up and Oma and Mona hiding giggles while Jin helped pick up pieces of the broken pot. She rolled her eyes and continued walking. Lee sat her down in a folding chair and he bustled around, searching for the medical supplies.

“I’m really sorry,” she said again, staring at her hand and wiggling her fingers. “My friends can be... overzealous sometimes.”

“Yes, I picked up on that,” he responded dryly. She bit her lip and looked up at him nervously only to relax when she saw a small smirk on his face. He carried a small box back over to her and sat down across from her in another chair. He gingerly took her hand again and slowly pulled the piece of porcelain from her palm. She hissed, tensing up at the pain. “Sorry,” he murmured as he removed the shard and set it down.

“You’re fine.” He looked up at her, eyebrow cocked, and she blushed. “I mean, it’s fine. Not that you’re not. You are. That’s- um,” she laughed nervously. “I’m gonna shut up now.” The corners of his mouth pulled up and a warm feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. They sat in relative silence as Lee cleaned her cut and bandaged it. The warm feeling only intensified with the way he gently wrapped a strip of fabric around her hand, fingers dancing lightly across her skin. She knew that as a waterbender her body temperature was a little lower than the typical person, but even his delicate grip was unnaturally warm... almost like... but that wasn’t possible. Why would a firebender have a burn across his face? That didn’t make any sense. He did have the look of one, though, she had to admit — dark hair and porcelain-pale skin, not to mention those golden irises that seared her insides with every glance.

“There,” he said, clipping the bandage into place with a pin. She flexed her fingers experimentally.

“Thanks, Lee,” she said. “Did you need anything for your burns? Like I said, I think I might have some salve in my bag.”

“Burns?” He tilted his head, looking confused. She frowned.

“From the tea. It was pretty hot.”

“Oh, no. I don’t think I got much on my skin. Thank you, though.” He dropped her hand and stood, packing the first aid materials back into the small box. She stared down at her palm, fingers of her other hand tracing the meticulous wrappings. After a few moments of silence between them, she finally spoke again.

“So that’s your uncle out there?”

“Yeah, Mushi.”

“Are you guys refugees?” He nodded. “Where from?”

“Around.” He shrugged, face giving away nothing as he looked to her again. She hummed in understanding — a sore subject still, obviously. She stood up to leave.

“Well, thank you again and sorry again. I hope I didn’t make a terrible first impression.”

“I wouldn’t call it terrible,” he chuckled slightly, “just... memorable.”

“That almost sounds worse.” She grimaced exaggeratedly. “I’ll see you around, though. Maybe we can share that pot of jasmine tea.”

His cheeks tinted pink and he looked down at the ground. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

“Bye, Lee.” She gave him a small wave before turning and heading into the main dining room of the teahouse. She hurried over to her friends who were waiting outside and they immediately bombarded her with questions.

“So do you like him?”

“Oh my spirits, she’s totally into him! Look at her blushing!”

“Are you guys gonna go out?”

“Did you kiss him yet? He definitely wanted to kiss you. I could tell.”

“Aw, did he wrap your hand up for you? That’s so cute!”

“Please say you asked him out.”

“Yeah, you didn’t chicken out or anything, right?”

“Guys!” Kena laughed over her babbling friends. “Nothing happened. He just helped me patch up my hand.”

“Sola! You get back in there and ask that cute broody boy out!” Her friends started squabbling again as they pushed her back through the doors of the Pao Family Tea House to confront Lee again. As she stumbled inside, both Lee and Mushi gave her confused looks. She grinned sheepishly as she walked towards them.

“Hi again. I just forgot something,” she said.

“Did you drop something?” asked Mushi. “I’ll help you find it.” The old man wandered back over to the table Kena and her friends had been sitting at, giving his nephew a knowing look before halfheartedly scanning the floor.

“Um, no. Didn’t drop anything. I actually just wanted to ask you something, Lee.” Her face was red-hot as she looked up at him. This boy was making her blush more in a few minutes than she had in her entire life.

“What’s that?” he asked, leaning back on the counter. He was trying to feign nonchalance but in reality he thought his heart might pound out of his chest.

“I just wanted to know if you were busy tomorrow night. There’s a festival and I’d really like it if you could come with me.” She held her hands behind her back so he couldn’t see her nervous fidgeting. Lee almost slipped off the counter, quickly catching himself.

“Oh, uh... I’m sorry, I think I have a shift-“

“No, he doesn’t!” Mushi cut in, interrupting his nephew. “He’d love to go with you!” Lee stared at him with wide eyes and Kena laughed.

“Okay, cool. I’ll met you here at sunset tomorrow, then?”

“He’ll be there,” Mushi responded for him, beaming brightly. Kena couldn’t help but smile back as she bid them goodbye (again) and started to leave. “It’s our lucky day, nephew! You have a date with a lovely young lady and I just found my white lotus Pai Sho tile on the ground over there!”

Kena almost tripped over her feet when she heard Mushi mention Pai Sho. He and his nephew were familiar for a reason — one she could remember now as the memories flooded back.

“Remember, Pai Sho is more than just a game,” Iroh explained to a grumpy Zuko and a mesmerized Kena.

“No it’s not, Uncle!” Zuko whined. Kena elbowed him in the ribs and he yelped dramatically.

“Be nice, Zuko! Once General Iroh teaches us the rules, we can play and I can kick your butt.” She smirked at him and he huffed.

“It’s dumb. It’s all luck!” he said.

“No, it’s all about strategy and thinking ahead,” she said.

“Children please,” Iroh chuckled, interrupting the bickering kids. “You’re both right. Pai Sho cannot be won with just luck or just strategy. You need both, like yin and yang.”

“Like us!” Kena wrapped her arms around her best friend and squeezed him. The boy flushed pink and Iroh grinned at them.

Kena rushed out of the tea house, not even stopping as she passed by her bewildered friends. She had to get home and think this through.

Zuko stared at the doors the girl had disappeared through until his uncle set his hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t be nervous, dear nephew; dates are easy. She seems to like you very much and appears to be quite nice. You’ll have a great time if you just be yourself!”

He shot Iroh a look. “It’s not that, Uncle. It’s just... she seems so familiar.”

“Ah, I see. Perhaps you loved each other in your past lives.” Iroh nodded sagely and Zuko rolled his eyes.

“No, don’t be ridiculous. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her somewhere in this life.”

“We’ve visited many places these past few years, it’s entirely possible she is a refugee from a village we once traveled to.”

He shook his head. “She didn’t seem scared of me. If I had seen her since... leaving... I think she would’ve run in the other direction. I wasn’t exactly traveling as a tourist.”

“Maybe you aren’t as scary as you think you are, Prince Zuko,” Iroh teased. Zuko grumbled under his breath and walked away to clean off a table someone had left, the girl’s face swimming in his mind.

When she got back to her small apartment, she didn’t even greet Fera, a woman a few years older than herself who she’d met in her travels and was currently rooming with, before locking herself in her bedroom. She tossed her bag to the ground and started to pace back and forth in the tiny area that wasn’t occupied by her cot and simple dresser. She paused when Fera knocked at her door.

“Are you alright, Kena?” the woman called through the wood. Kena sighed deeply.

“I’m fine. I just... had a weird day. I’ll tell you about it later, I promise,” she said.

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.” Kena sat heavily on the edge of her bed as Fera’s footsteps faded into their kitchen. She dropped her head into her hands and pressed her palms against her eyes, wincing when she remembered the cut from earlier.

It wasn’t possible. It didn’t make any sense. Why in Tui’s name were Zuko and Iroh in Ba Sing Se, pretending to be refugees and working in a tea shop? Were they here to capture her? That couldn’t be it — Zuko’d had the perfect opportunity when they were alone in the back of the tea house. Something major had obviously happened, judging by the scar on his face and his short hair that was very un-Fire Nation. It had been many long years since they’d seen each other and she hadn’t immediately recognized them, so maybe she had lucked out and they didn’t recognize her either and they just happened to be here on other business. She cursed the complete lack of outside news circulation in the city. It was impossible to know if she’d heard nothing about the fire prince because of lack of information or because they were here covertly, on a mission. The last she’d heard about either of them was Iroh pulling out of his siege against the city several years ago, right before she moved into the Lower Ring with Fera and all the other refugees.

Despite her initial anxiety, that warm feeling from earlier was in her gut again. He’d found her, even if he didn’t know it yet. Her best friend was here, so close, in Ba Sing Se. She felt a little giddy when she thought about how they wouldn’t have to meet in secret here. They could sit and talk and hug and just exist together in broad daylight without fear of punishment. Maybe that’s why they were here under aliases — they had finally grown tired of living under Ozai’s thumb.

Kena pushed herself back to sit in the middle of her bed, drawing her knees up to her chest. She allowed herself a small smile as she wrapped her arms around herself. This could be nice, she thought. Zuko and I together again. We always talked about leaving one day and starting new. It was hypothetical back then, but now... we’re already halfway there. We just have to put it all together. Iroh wasn’t part of our original plan but he was nice enough when we were kids, and Zuko adored him. Maybe one day when we earn enough money, Iroh could open his own tea house like Zuko said he used to joke about. Maybe one day we could live like normal people, like everyone else here.

She shook herself out of her reverie. She was getting way too far ahead of herself, considering she still had no idea if they were even here benignly. The girl couldn’t help herself, though — for the first time in years, something warm and bright and pure was bubbling up in her chest; something that felt a little bit like hope.

A/N: ended up being not as long as i thought it’d be, but i’m still pretty happy with it and it seemed like a good place to cut. things start to get ~spicy~ next time, so remember to ask for a tag if you want to stay up to date! i love you !

TAGS: @beifongsss @the-lva-way @lammello @llorom6nnic @idkdude776 @bubblebars @royahllty @mamooska8 @bucky-blogs @youneedmemanidonotneedyou @eridanuswave @rosetheshapeshifter @fantasticchaoticwho @bwndito

#mine #petrichor #atla #avatar the last airbender #atla fic #atla fanfic #zuko #zuko x oc #atla zuko #prince zuko #prince zuko x oc #zuko fanfic #avatar fic #zuko fic #zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #the last airbender

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takadasaiko · 3 years

Text

Time and Trust (a Superman & Lois one shot)

FFN II AO3

Summary: Pre-S1. Lois needs time to work through her emotions after Clark reveals who he really is to her, but a close call helps her find perspective.

Time & Trust

It wasn't that she didn't understand the risk he'd taken. Logically she knew that to do what he did as Superman, he had to keep secrets from - lie to - nearly everyone around him. It protected him and it protected his mother back in Smallville. It even protected the people he surrounded himself with that would never know. It protected her, and Lois knew that. She understood that. That didn't mean that she didn't need time to process the fact that the man she'd fallen in love with had kept so much of himself from her.

Clark had been ridiculously understanding about the whole thing, even to the point that he'd come up with an excuse to cut their trip to Smallville short to give her the time she needed to process it. Which, of course, only made her feel more guilty about all the lingering - and irrational, she kept reminding herself, as if this would be the time it would sink in - irritation at the fact that she hadn't known before now. That he hadn't told her.

Three days alone with her thoughts hadn't done a lot to help clear up those feelings and as Lois spit the toothpaste into the sink and washed the remainder out with a swallow of water, she was dreading seeing Clark back at the Planet that morning, and she hated that the most. Before their trip she'd looked forward to every second that they had together. The collaborations, the late night takeout pouring over the case files they'd put together, and the stolen moments away from prying eyes. She loved the way he stumbled through their earliest days of dating the same way he had the day they met and how she caught him looking at her out of the corner of her eye. All of it. She loved him and she wanted to look forward to seeing him, but he'd want to know where they stood.

Or worse, he'd give her all the time and space she needed.

The call from Perry came as she was tugging her shoes on. Superman and some as-of-now unknown assailant were battling it out in downtown Metropolis not too far from Lois' own apartment. He expected her there ten minutes ago. Jimmy'd meet her there and if she saw Kent, the boy'd better learn to answer his damn phone.

A crowd had gathered, giving a wide breadth to the battle raging in downtown by the time Lois arrived, but she found Jimmy in closer and snapping photos aimed at the man with what looked like a set of braces on his arms, clearly giving him a boost of power that the average person wouldn't have had. "What'd I miss?" she demanded, watching Superman - watching Clark - block a blow aimed at his face and… "Did he just shove Superman back?"

"Yeah, it's been wild. So, that dude -" Jimmy pointed to the man that was currently winning the power struggle - "started tossing cars around. Eye witnesses think he was trying to lure Superman out. No clue why. No one's ID'd him yet, but take a look at this. Recognize that?"

Lois forced herself to look away from the ongoing battle to focus on the enhanced photo displayed on Jimmy's screen. "That looks like Lex Corp tech."

"Yeah it does," the photographer said with a grin.

"I need to check those to the ones our anonymous source sent us a couple weeks ago. We may finally have a break."

"See, that's why you should take time off more. You come back and everything falls into place." She caught him looking at her from the corner of his eye. "How was Smallville?"

Lois whipped around. "How did you know I was in Smallville?"

"Oh, c'mon. You and CK take time off at the exact same time and you think we wouldn't put it together? You meet his mom?"

"Yeah."

"So how'd it go?"

"Listen, Jimmy, I don't want to talk about it. I -"

A shout drew her attention back to the scene at hand. Time seemed to slow as her mind processed that there was a vehicle barreling through the air and aimed directly at them. There wasn't time to move or even duck, but just a flash of an instant that told her this was the end. It didn't matter why she'd been upset, only that she was about to die before resolving the issue with Clark. Before telling him that she loved him, no matter what. Before -

The car made a terrible crunching sound as Superman zipped between it and her, catching it midair. He eased it off to the side and turned, those familiar blue-green eyes focused on her. "Are you alright?"

"Behind you!" Lois shouted and watched as the man wearing the Lex Corp tech slammed into Superman, driving him into the concrete and sliding. She saw something in his hand - green and glowing and sharpened to a point - just before he brought it down hard. Superman's eyes widened and Lois felt her chest tighten as she saw flecks of blood on his blue costume from where the strangely coloured blade had pierced through between his ribs.

"What the hell?" Jimmy breathed beside her. "I thought he was invulnerable or something. I mean, that's not supposed to happen, right?"

"No. It's not," she managed as Superman's attacker drove the blade in deeper and gave a vicious twist, pulling a pained sound from the Man of Steel. From Clark. Lois felt sick.

"Lois!" Jimmy called and she hadn't even realized that she was moving forward. He tried to grab for her, but she slipped out of his grasp.

"Hey! I know who you work for, and you can tell your boss I'm not going to let him get away with this!"

The man turned, his eyes wild, and Lois wondered if the strength-enhancing braces weren't Luthor's only "gift" to him. She wouldn't put it past him to use a cocktail of drugs to put someone into a state of no fear. A slow, dangerous smile tilted his lips as his gaze fixed on her. "You shoulda run when you had the chance."

"Then who would have distracted you?" she asked, nodding behind him to where Superman was making it to his feet, eyes glowing dangerously red before the blast threw the other man back hard.

Superman was on him in a second, lightening fast and angrier than Lois had thought was even possible. He ripped the tech from the assailant, crippling his ability to continue the fight, and dropped him to the ground where he stayed. For half a second she thought he might throw another punch, but as sirens wailed in the distance she watched red fade, even if his breathing didn't even out.

"What is this thing?" Jimmy asked from where he'd scooped up the strange knife, red blood standing out against the green blade.

"Put it down."

Lois turned, the question dancing on her tongue until it was startled into silence as Superman's eyes flashed red again, the burst of energy shattering the blade as soon as Jimmy dropped it.

The assailant chuckled hoarsely from his place crumpled on the street. "You think that's all he's got? He's coming for you."

Lois' gaze traveled to where blood had soaked through and up to meet his eyes. She couldn't say what she wanted to, not out in the open like this. She didn't dare.

"Are you both alright?" he asked.

She managed a small nod. "Are you?"

His thin lips stretched into something that likely was meant to be a smile and then he was gone, in the air and faster than the eye could follow as the police arrived to make their arrest.

-------

Clark wasn't at the Planet when she arrived and he wasn't picking up his cell phone. Lois felt the panic start to build even as she fumbled through a half-baked excuse to get herself out the door and across town to his apartment, hoping he'd be there.

No one answered the door when she knocked and she'd settled for grabbing the spare key he kept along the top of the door frame. It never made it to the actual lock before the door was opened from the inside, revealing a very disheveled Clark Kent on the other side. He was pale, a little feverish looking, and she didn't like the way that his right hand lingered over where the wound had been. "Hey," he managed, voice raspy and exhausted sounding. "Sorry, I should have -"

She pushed her way in and he didn't offer any resistance. "What happened? What was that?"

"Off the record?" he asked, the faintest hint of a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips and she felt at least some of the anxiety start to ease.

"Yeah, if there's something out there that can hurt Superman, I don't want to be the one to spread it to the masses. I'm already arguing with Perry over it."

"Too many people saw for you to keep it out of your article," Clark grumbled, wincing at the sound of the tea kettle on the stove. He turned, as if he were going for it, and Lois reached out to touch his arm.

"I'll get it."

There was only a beat of hesitation before he managed a tired "thank you" and shuffled over to the couch. "Let's just keep the details of what it actually is between us, okay?"

"Of course," she answered, pulling the tea kettle off of the stove and the whistling slowed to a stop. She reached for a mug and the oolong tea, listening to him speak from the adjacent living room.

"The knife was made out of Kryptonite. It's, uh… fragments from my home planet. It's poisonous to me."

Home planet. Well, those were words she never expected to come out of her boyfriend's mouth. She swallowed hard, focusing on putting the tea together as she talked and hoping she sounded more natural than she felt. "Why would pieces of your home planet be poisonous to you?"

"Krypton wasn't exactly in good shape when it broke apart."

She grabbed for the honey on the counter and put a spoonful into the mug before steeling herself to circle out into the living room with him. She found him slouched down on the couch and looking perfectly miserable, but he did take the mug when she offered it to him. "Are you alright?"

There was a longer pause than she was comfortable with and he blew lightly against the steam, frosty breath cooling the tea beneath it. "I will be," he promised and his eyes flickered up to meet hers. "But I almost wasn't. You saved my life today."

Lois motioned to the open space next to him and let him give a small nod of acknowledgement before sliding into it. She settled in with him, leaning against him, and turned to press a gentle kiss to his left arm, her hand settling on his knee. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, sounding genuinely startled. Of course he was genuinely startled. Clark was genuinely every emotion he wore on his sleeve. As much as it could drive her mad, it was one of the things she loved about him.

"Cutting our trip short and for…. making you wait."

"You need time. I get that." He shifted the mug to his right hand, but didn't reach for her own that was dangerously close to it. Even after everything, he was still giving her as much space as she wanted.

"You're infuriating."

"I don't mean to be."

She felt the smile take hold and she leaned in a little closer. "I know. That's why I have to work to stay mad at you."

"Are you still? Mad, I mean?"

She pulled in a deep breath and reached out, lacing her fingers through his and she could feel him relax next to her. "I don't think I was ever really mad at you."

"Exactly who were you mad at then?" he mumbled and she huffed a laugh at that.

"Myself."

"Why?"

"Because I'm an investigative report. Because you were my best friend and partner before we even started dating and I… I should have known. I feel like an idiot that I didn't."

Clark shifted, pulling away only far enough to look at her. "You're not an idiot."

"Oh, I know. I said I feel like an idiot," she pointed out with a small smirk and watched him echo with a softer version of her own expression.

"In my experience people see what they want to see. I'm… really good at hiding in plain sight."

"You really are." She squeezed his hand in hers and leaned her temple against his shoulder. "I was terrified today. It wasn't just Superman, it was you. I saw you and you were…. I could have lost you." She steadied herself, forcing the walls down. "And I never want to lose you."

Clark's thumb drifted over her knuckles and he turned to press a kiss against her dark hair. "You won't."

"Promise?"

"Yeah. Do you trust me?"

"I do."

"Thank you."

Lois could feel the tension drifting away and she wrapped her free arm around his middle to pull him a little closer. Realization hit her like a ton of bricks and she instantly pulled back, sitting up to look him in the eye. "Did I hurt you?"

He flashed her that charming, honest smile of his. "Nah. I'm mostly healed up. Just trying to shake the last effects from the exposure. Give me a couple hours and I'll be totally back to normal."

She nodded and settled back in, her free fingers toying with the hem of his t-shirt. "I think we should focus more on Tony Phillips than the Kryptonite for the story. That's the way we get around Perry."

"Who?"

"The guy that nearly killed you."

"Oh, that guy."

"I'm waiting on a source to verify it, but I'm ninety-nine point nine percent sure that tech came from Lex Corp."

"If we can prove it, that'll be a heck of a story."

"Yes it will be."

"I should probably figure out an excuse why I never showed today and call in."

"I already told Perry you had food poisoning."

"Saving my life and my job all in the same day," Clark murmured tiredly.

"Yep. Looks like you're stuck with me." Lois risked a look up when he didn't respond and found his eyes closed behind his glasses. She squeezed his hand, releasing it just long enough to take his mug - precariously balanced on his knee - and set it on the coffee table. He mumbled something too softly for her to hear and she smiled, settling back with him and taking his hand again. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised and felt herself inching towards sleep with him.

End.

-----

Notes: I have had another Superman & Lois one shot half-finished for weeks now, yet this is where my brain went when I decided to sit down and write on some fanfiction today. Ah well. Apparently the muse wanted hurt/comfort today. Hope you enjoyed!

#Superman & Lois #Superman & Lois fanfiction #Superman & Lois fanfic #Lois Lane #Clark Kent #Clois

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vindicatedvirgil · 4 years

Text

only fools rush in / part four: we deserve happiness, too

WHOAH HEY SLOW DOWN! have you read parts one, two, and three yet? no? go do that and then come back. it’s fine. i’ll wait.

okay now for those of you who are all caught up, it’s Sunday, so that means a new chapter!! this chapter is focused on Janus and Logan and (hopefully) it will answer some of your questions about timelines and stuff.

this is my first time writing about a queerplatonic relationship, so if i messed up in any way please let me know (they’re also both aromantic but they are not ace and this is important to note okay cool).

TW: mention of sex (no descriptors though), mention of suicide attempt

read to the end for the title of part five as well as a teaser~

Logan sat at their usual table at the café, his laptop in front of him as he typed quickly. With every opening of the door, the bell above it dinging annoyingly, he glanced up, but found himself disappointed when he didn’t see his partner. He worried that Janus’ oolong tea would grow cold as he took a sip of his own black coffee, and turned his focus to the research paper he was working on. Eventually, he felt Janus’ lips press to his cheek and then his body slid into the booth to the left of him.

“Sorry that I’m late, Lo. Virgil was having a rough night and I needed to make sure he was going to be okay,” he explained, picking up the mug of tea in his hands and taking a sip. Janus made no indication that the tea was too cold or hot, he just smiled before pulling his own laptop out of his bag. “How’s the paper coming?”

“Almost done, just need to edit the footnotes,” Logan responded plainly, taking another sip of his coffee. It was almost to the point where it was too cold to drink, but he needed the caffeine if he wanted to finish his work for the weekend. “Is Virgil going to be okay now?”

“I think so. Roman was arriving to practice for the auditions as I left, though I don’t think he saw me, he seemed pretty focused as he ran up the stairs,” he responded, starting to type on his laptop. “Have you eaten anything, Lo? You can’t just have coffee.”

“I’m not hungry,” the taller man responded, pushing his glasses up further on his nose. Janus frowned, then slid out of their booth and walked over to the main counter. Logan sighed, switching tabs to his research notes. He skimmed for the information he needed and by the time he had inserted a quote into the main paper, Janus had returned with two muffins; one blueberry, one banana nut. Logan wanted to ignore the grumble in his stomach but he knew Janus would bug him until he ate something, so he picked up the blueberry muffin and unwrapped it before taking a bite. “Thanks, Janus.” He continued writing, taking occasional bites of the muffin, and Janus was also working hard, his banana nut muffin consumed rather quickly, the oolong tea drained from the mug. Finally, Logan spoke again. “Did Remus tell you where he was planning on taking Patton today?”

“The botanical gardens and then here for lunch, I think,” Janus responded. He seemed to be in deep thought, his thoughts miles away. “He’s going to tell Patton about his past, I think.”

“He should, before Roman beats him to it,” Logan said, loosening his tie. “He almost did last night when we were helping him pick out his outfit.” He sighed, and felt Janus’ fingers trail on his thigh, and met his eyes.

“They’re all falling in love, aren’t they? How weird is that? Love and romance. Such silly concepts,” Janus mused, a playful smile crossing his face. “But… they all deserve it. Happiness. We found our own kind of happiness, they get to find theirs now.” Logan nodded, stretching his arms a little bit.

“We’re not broken, right?” Logan’s voice was hesitant when he asked the question, and Janus frowned at him, taking his hand.

“Lo, we’ve been over this. Just because love and romance aren’t things we want to or can feel, doesn’t mean we’re broken,” Janus’ words were like a song that Logan needed to play over and over, and he wondered if that feeling would ever disappear. Sometimes when he curled up in Janus’ arms he almost felt whole, like he realized that there wasn’t a black hole where his heart should be. There were days where he shut himself off from the world, hiding in his room that was littered with papers and science equipment, because he wasn’t sure that he could ever deserve the happiness he felt when Janus was next to him. “Lo,” Janus’ voice was calling him back into himself, out of the fog of his mind. “Lo, did you sleep at all last night?”

“Uh… I slept for an hour or two,” he admitted, eyes glancing down. He was ashamed of his own insomnia sometimes, but being a double major was draining. Luckily, Janus always knew how to take care of him, make him realize that there was more to the world than just romantic love.

“How much more schoolwork do you need to get done?” Janus asked rhetorically as he grabbed Logan’s planner, flipping to the page for the day. “Hmmm… not much, plus it’s only Saturday morning. Okay.” He closed the planner and then shut Logan’s laptop and then his own. “Come on, we’re going to your apartment to rest.”

“Jan–”

“Not mine, because Virgil and Roman are practicing and I want to give them space,” he explained, putting his laptop away. “No arguing this time, please. You need to take care of yourself.” Logan knew better than to argue, so he packed up his things and then the two walked to his apartment, fingers interlocked.

“Janus, this really isn’t necessary,” Logan grumbled as his partner removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the plain t-shirt underneath. “I need to get work done.” The shorter man ignored him, going to Logan’s dresser and pulling out some pajama bottoms. He threw them at his glasses-clad partner, raising an eyebrow.

“You need to rest,” was the only thing he said before resting his hands on his hips, glancing around the cluttered bedroom. There were papers littering the carpet, books stacked everywhere despite the open spaces on the bookshelves, and empty coffee mugs all over the desk, and Janus noted some spilled coffee stains on the surface. He was about to shrug out of his coat when two arms wrapped around his waist and Logan’s chin rested on his shoulder.

“You could… help me rest, maybe,” he suggested, voice low. “It helps my mind slow down a little bit.” Janus knew this, and he spun around in Logan’s arms, pressing his hands to his partner’s face. “If you don’t want to–”

“You know I’d do anything to help you, Lolo.”

Afterwards, Janus slipped back into his shirt and a pair of Logan’s pajama bottoms. He got Logan’s help in rubbing lotion over the left side of his body, hoping to quell some of the pain brought on by his eczema. Then he brought over his laptop, putting on one of Logan’s favorite space documentaries, and the two snuggled, Logan dozing sporadically. Janus ran his fingers through the other’s hair, feeling calm and collected, a smile plastered on his face. When he heard Logan’s stomach grumble with hunger, they ordered Chinese takeout and ate it in bed, Janus smirking when a noodle stuck to the other’s chin. They watched a few more documentaries, the sun lowering itself in the sky, and eventually, Logan dozed off.

Janus pressed a swift kiss to Logan’s forehead, the other softly snoring, then got to work tidying up the room. He started by putting the books onto the shelves, but he didn’t follow a certain order, he just wanted to reduce Logan’s risk of falling over the stacks. Afterwards, he organized the scattered papers into different piles and then put them into the file cabinet, labeling them for the class or purpose they held. He wiped off the surfaces in the room with wipes he had stored in Logan’s desk, and then carried all of the mugs in his arms and out to the kitchenette.

When he exited Logan’s room, he saw Roman lounging on the couch, flipping through the script. When the actor noticed him, he raised an eyebrow, but smiled.

“How’s Virgil doing?” Janus asked, setting the mugs on the sink and turning on the hot water. Roman got up from the couch and sat on one of the stools at the counter, watching.

“He…” Roman sighed, resting his hand under his chin. “He’s nervous about it all, of course. He doesn’t want to fall on stage, he doesn’t want to mess up.” His voice was hesitant, and Janus could tell that he was holding something back, but he didn’t want to pry; he focused on washing Logan’s mugs, smiling when he noticed the ones he had gifted him with nerd sayings on them. “Janus… did Virgil really… almost kill himself?”

The mug that Janus was holding slipped out of his hand, clattering into the sink. Thankfully, it stayed intact. He felt his throat constrict, the memories of that day rushing back through his mind, and he gripped the edge of the sink tightly, using one of his shaky hands to turn off the water. “He did,” Janus’ breath was heavy, too, and he couldn’t bear to turn around to look Roman in the eyes. “I… found him. It was… the worst day of my life.”

“How old were you at the time?” Roman’s voice sounded pained as the words left his mouth, and Janus chewed on his lower lip.

“We were 16,” he said, turning around and leaning against the sink, his eyes focused on his feet. “He’s… better now. Therapy and medication and all. But… I almost lost him.”

“He thinks he’s losing you,” Roman’s words came out before he could stop them, and Janus’ eyes snapped up to meet his, a frown on his face.

“What?” It was almost a hiss, Janus was feeling constricted again, and his defenses were rising. Roman held his hands out to try to calm him down.

“He just…” Roman sighed, lowering his hands, “Now that you’re in a partnership with Logan, he… thinks he’s not a priority in your life anymore. I did my best to tell him that couldn’t be true, but… you might need to talk to him.”

Janus ran a hand through his hair, sighing, but he nodded. “Thank you for telling me, Roman. I’ll… talk to him.” Roman nodded, then pursed his lips in thought.

“Our audition is a week from Friday… do you think that maybe… you and the others could sit in the back, where Virgil can’t see, and then be there when we’re done?” Roman’s voice was hesitant. He didn’t know Janus very well and had only spent time with him in small increments; it was Patton and Logan who spent more time with him, and Roman always found the sociology major to be… odd. But he meant a lot to Virgil. “He’s so nervous, I think he could do with some support afterwards.” Janus wondered why Roman was hesitant to be the only one providing the support to Virgil, but maybe it was a sign that Roman knew of his own limits.

“I… yeah, of course, Roman. I’ll make sure that we’re there.”

“Virgil?” Janus opened the door to their apartment later that night. Remus hadn’t returned yet, and Virgil was laying on the couch, holding a pillow close. Janus stepped out of his shoes and set his bag down, walking over. “I think we need to talk.”

“...do we?” Virgil made a move to sit up but Janus shook his head, pulling Virgil’s legs up and onto his lap as he sat down.

“Roman told me that you feel like less of a priority to me,” he said, eyes focusing on the taller man. Virgil’s mouth opened to respond but Janus shook his head.. “Virge, I need you to know that no matter how significant Lo, or anyone else, ever becomes to me, no one will ever be more important to me than you. Okay?” Virgil looked away, frowning, and Janus sighed, rubbing his feet.

“It’s just…” he took a deep breath, twisting his fingers in a manner that seemed very uncomfortable to Janus, but Virgil made no indication that it was. “You’ve got… someone to care for now, someone who cares for you in an equal manner, and… I’m just getting in the way.”

“V, you could never get in the way. Just because I’m with Logan doesn’t change the fact that if you needed me, I would drop everything to be there,” Janus’ voice was calm, and he rubbed Virgil’s feet and legs in a way that he hoped was comforting. “V. Look at me.” Virgil did, because he knew that Janus would keep at it until he did. Janus smiled warmly, his eyes meeting his best friend’s. “Please don’t forget how much I care for you. I know… things have changed, lately. I’m still figuring out the balance with Lo and everything, but… you’ll always be at the top of my priority pyramid.” Virgil smiled, recalling the drawing that Janus had made for him back when he was in the hospital for his attempt.

-flashback, six years ago-

“They don’t care, they never did,” Virgil was sitting up in the hospital bed, finally, bandage-covered arms crossed and a frown on his face. His parents had just left from their obligatory half-hour visit. “I’m not a priority to anyone.” Janus scoffed. He was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, notebook in hand.

“You’re a priority to me, V,” he said, starting to scribble on the notebook. Virgil raised an eyebrow, peeking over to see a pyramid with words on several levels. “Okay, see? Bottom level is basic necessities like a roof and food. Then school and my family. Then me. And look, at the very top of the pyramid, it’s you. The most important thing.”

Virgil brought his hand up to his mouth to stifle the laugh that he felt rising up inside him, and he ignored the bandages on his wrist as he did so. Janus was surprised at the laughter; he hadn’t heard the noise coming from his best friend in weeks. “Jan, the most important and necessary thing goes at the base of the pyramid. Like in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs?” Janus frowned, glancing down at his pyramid. Virgil reached his hand out, taking the notebook from him. “But… I understand what you’re trying to say. Thank you.”

-end flashback-

“I still have that pyramid drawing you did,” Virgil said. He moved from his laying down position to sit next to Janus, and despite their height difference he leaned his head on the other man’s shoulder. “Maybe… maybe I won’t need to rely on only you, J.”

“What do you mean?” Janus found himself not liking the idea. Of course, ever since Remus had pranced his way into their little group, into their apartment, Janus knew that it could never be the same as it was when they moved in together right out of high school instead of living in the dorms.

“I mean…” Virgil took a deep breath, a small smile taking over his facial features. “Maybe… maybe Roman will… care for me, too.” Janus turned his head a bit to give Virgil a confused look. “I think… Jan, I think he likes me.”

“He’d be a fool not to,” was the only response that Janus could muster up, but he felt strange about the whole thing.

Janus had just finished eating his breakfast when there was a knock at the door. Virgil was still in bed, and Remus had left early to go on a brunch date with Patton. He opened the door, and saw Logan standing there, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Hey, Lo, you okay?” He asked, pulling his partner inside and giving him a swift kiss to the cheek.

“I just… wanted to spend time with you,” Logan explained. Janus smiled, pulling him in for a warming hug. They moved to sit on the couch, Janus curled into Logan’s chest, an oceanography documentary playing in the background. “I was, um, thinking about the day we decided to… get together.”

“Oh?” Janus mused, playing with Logan’s fingers gently. “What about that day?”

“Just… the way you made me feel like I wasn’t broken. Like I deserve happiness.”

-flashback to early in the summer-

“I can’t help but feel… broken,” Logan sighed, laying on the floor of Janus’ room. “I know being aromantic is valid. You’ve helped me realize that, Janus. But… seeing people in romantic relationships are... they always seem so happy, and… will I ever feel happy like that?” Janus sighed from where he was propped up on his bed, pillows surrounding him. He clambered out of bed and then laid on the floor next to Logan, taking his hand and intertwining their fingers.

“You deserve the utmost of happiness. Regardless of what other people think, people like you and me do find happiness in our lives, even if romantic relationships aren’t appealing to us,” he said, voice soft and soothing. A few moments passed before he spoke again, “Logan… do you know what a queerplatonic relationship is?”

“Vaguely.” Logan asked, turning his head to look at the other, who was staring right up at the ceiling. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I… thought maybe you’d…” Janus didn’t finish his sentence, instead closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Logan propped himself on his elbow, laying on his side to look at the other one more closely.

“Janus, are you asking me to be your partner?” Logan asked. They’d grown closer since meeting in class and getting to know each other, and when Janus found out that he also identified as aromantic, they began to spend even more time together.

“I… yeah, I think so,” Janus replied, looking at Logan again. “We’d need to establish boundaries. But… I don’t know, I think… it could work, and maybe we could… make each other happy.”

“What kind of boundaries?” Logan pressed, not yet stating if he wanted to enter the partnership. “Like… sex stuff?”

“I- I mean, only if you want that, we don’t have to do any of that, and if there’s something you want we can try it, and if it makes us uncomfortable we stop, it’s… all subjective to change,” Janus kept tripping over his words. He’d been thinking of asking Logan this for months, and had planned so many things out to say, but Logan never ceased to amaze him with the questions he didn’t anticipate.

“Well…” Logan started, taking a deep breath. “I would like to try… because you deserve to be happy, too, Janus.”

-end flashback-

“Anyways, I have something for you,” Logan reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a rounded ring that looked like a galaxy. “You don’t have to, but, um, it’s kind of like…”

“A promise ring?” Janus took the ring into his own hands gingerly, a smile creeping onto his face. Logan nodded, then buried his face in Janus’ hair, mumbling. The smaller man said nothing but slipped the ring onto his finger.

“You make me feel happiness,” Logan said, face still buried in Janus’ hair. “I thought I couldn’t feel that, that I didn’t deserve it. But you and I deserve it, just as much as anyone else.”

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teaser for part five: power outages can lead to some very bad things

When Roman got back to the apartment, all of the lights were out. Patton and Logan were nowhere to be seen, so he figured that they were both spending the night at the other apartment. He showered then got into bed, but laid on his back staring up at his ceiling until the sun started to bleed through the break in his curtains. He fucked up.

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#amanda's sanders sides college au #amanda writes sanders sides fic #loceit #queerplatonic loceit #ts janus #ts logan #logan sanders #janus sanders #prinxiety #ts roman #ts virgil #roman sanders #virgil sanders #intruality #ts remus #ts patton #patton sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides fanfiction

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

Text

The Healing Properties of Oolong Tea

Category: Hurt and Comfort, Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Ochako Uraraka, Katsuki Bakugo

Hey, everyone! This piece was made for @bnhabookclub‘s weekly SFW prompt, “I’m fine.” I hope you all enjoy it! ^u^

The ceramic mug was pleasantly warm in Ochako’s hands, as it had absorbed much of the heat emanating from the piping hot Oolong tea Momo had courteously prepared for their weekly girls’ night. Steam was curling in faint tendrils in the air above the cup, which was still full to the brim with the dark liquid sweetened with honey, sugar, and a dash of cream.

The tea, though still hot, was the perfect temperature to drink after several minutes of cooling, but Ochako made no move to do so. The heat continued to bleed out of the cup into her fingers and palms, turning the soft flesh a faint hue of pink. Distantly, Ochako heard Kyoka quip something about her tea going cold, and so she robotically lifted it to her mouth to take a dainty but mechanical sip. Its robust flavor, highlighted by the undertones of the sweeteners, spread a comforting warmth through her mouth and body. Ochako barely noticed. She was too busy staring at the entranceway leading up to the boys’ dormitory rooms, where one Katsuki Bakugo had made his exit not three minutes before.

“Guys… Does Bakugo seem a little more… tense than usual?” she finally posed and looked back at the girls with raised eyebrows. They were all snuggled up on the common room couches together, preparing to watch whatever romantic comedy Mina was loading into the DVD player. At her question, the pink, fluffy-haired girl peered over the edge of the coffee table with a frown.

“He does seem a little snippier than usual. He yelled at me this morning because I didn’t pour my cereal fast enough and was ‘hogging the box like a stupid extra,’” she pouted. Momo rubbed her chin thoughtfully, and her gaze shifted up to the ceiling as she pondered the notion.

“It’s only been four days since Kamino Ward… He was kidnapped by the League of Villains and held hostage and witnessed All Might’s fight against All for One up close. Even for him, it must have been a very traumatic experience.”

“Yeah, ribbit, but he’s Bakugo,” Tsuyu sighed dejectedly. “He’s not the type to talk about his feelings or accept help dealing with them.” At her poignant statement, the troupe of girls collectively heaved weighty sighs. Ochako sipped once more at the tea, finding its spreading warmth more therapeutic now. She knew she should focus on girls’ night, because they started the weekly get-together specifically to create a safe space away from their problems, but she simply couldn’t help but worry about Katsuki. Everyone is so convinced they’ll be rejected that he probably hasn’t even been offered help, she moped. Deku hasn’t even made any gestures to help him feel better. He just says, “Kacchan is strong. He can manage.”

But could he? All Might’s retirement had proved that even the strongest people had their breaking points. Katsuki could be suffering immensely, and they would never even know it because he was bottling it all up inside, and no one even attempted to twist the cap open to let out a little of the built-up pressure. That’s it! Ochako decided and set down her cup of tea to pour a fresh one from the teapot. Kyoka raised a critical eyebrow at her as she stirred in a small amount of sugar.

“Uh… Ochako, what’re you doing? You have a full cup right there. Are you going all space-case on us again?” she teased with a playful smirk. It fell from her face when Ochako abruptly rose from the couch and began stepping over their legs.

“It’s not for me. I’m taking it to Bakugo.”

“Why are you even bothering, ‘Chako?” Tooru quipped. Ochako could tell by the way her llama-patterned pajamas bunched at her bust that she had crossed her invisible arms. “He’ll probably yell at you to go away!” Just as she had clambered over Momo’s legs, Ochako stopped and stared down at the bitter tea swirling in the rose-patterned teacup.

“Yeah,” she agreed quietly. She watched the swirling light patterns of the sloshing tea slowly settle with her lack of movement. “You’re probably right. But he may open the door and take it, too. If he does that, then I’ll know that I’ve helped, even if it’s just a fractional amount.” The group of girls fell into awed silence. She continued to stand there at the edge of the couch for a second, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as she steeled her nerves. Bakugo would probably yell at her to go away and not even open up the door… but at the very least, she ought to try. That’s what friends were for, after all. Even if Bakugo didn’t consider them friends, she considered everyone in Class 1-A her friend, and friends always made an effort to be there when they were needed most- even if the recipient didn’t know they needed help in the first place.

“Wait, Ochako,” Momo interrupted when Ochako began walking again. Ochako looked over her shoulder to see that the black-haired girl had taken a saucer and was loading it up with the small tea cakes and tartlets that Tooru had bought from the supermarket. “Take these to him as well. I’m not sure if he has much of a sweet tooth, but at the very least, there should be something he likes,” she said with a smile and held out the pastry-laden saucer. Ochako adjusted her grip on the teacup before taking the small platter with a grateful smile.

“I’m sure he’ll love them! Feel free to start without me, guys. I’ve seen this one!” she chirped before whirling on her heel- not too fast, because she didn’t want the tea to spill and scald her hand. She carefully walked from the common room to the boys’ side of the dormitory, using the placards hanging on the doors to guide her to Bakugo’s room. She knew she had reached it when she stumbled upon a slightly crooked and bright red “Keep Out!” sign hanging on a door. Ochako kept Momo’s expensive teaware close to her body and kicked the door a few times with her foot since she couldn’t knock. “Bakugo! I brought you some tea and cake!”

“What the hell?” she heard him grunt from within. His voice sounded thick. He had announced that he was going to bed before stomping out of the common room, so it could be from sleep… But Ochako knew from overheard conversations that Katsuki fell asleep remarkably fast. It had only been about five or ten minutes since he had left; by all rights, he should be sleeping. Did that mean that Ochako’s instincts were right, and he was having difficulty sleeping because he couldn’t stop thinking about Kamino?

She jumped slightly at the harsh shriek of a chair scraping across the wood floor, then hissed as a few droplets of scalding tea landed on her hand and sizzled against the vulnerable skin of her fingers. Katsuki’s heavy footsteps echoed behind the door, but never seemed to grow any closer; he was muttering under his breath, too, words she couldn’t hear enough to comprehend. Is he… pacing? “I’m fine!” he barked suddenly, making her violently wince once more. She clenched her teeth with a little whine as more small, circular burns appeared on her hand from the hot Oolong.

He said he was fine… But he didn’t tell her to go away.

“Bakugo…” she murmured pityingly. Her eyebrows cinched a little, and she pouted determinedly before kicking the door with the toe of her slipper a few more times. “Momo worked really hard to make this Oolong tea! I didn’t add a lot of sugar because I wasn’t sure if you would like it too sweet, but I brought cakes, too! So please open the door and take them.”

“Stop bangin’ on the door, Uraraka; you’re givin’ me a headache!”

“Caffeine is great for headaches!”

“Shitty Round Face…!” Ochako grinned victoriously as his hefty footsteps finally thundered in the direction of the door. She kept the grin plastered on her- as Katsuki called it- round face, even as he flung the bedroom door open to glare scathingly at her. “I said that I am fine.” Her expression trembled a little at the unquestionable venom dripping from his voice, but she had come too far to yield to his defensive maneuvers. Wordlessly, she offered up the tea and cakes to him. His vermillion eyes bore seditiously into hers before slowly drifting down to the Oolong tea. His words were but a breath as he repeated, “I. Am. Fine. I don’t want the stupid tea.”

“Bakugo, I-” Evidently, as she began to protest again, her grin finally wavered and was replaced by an expression that Katsuki absolutely detested.

“Can’t you take a fucking hint?! I don’t want your fucking help, Uraraka, so stop looking at me with that fucking pitying look on your face!” He roared and, on reflex, knocked her hand away.

Ochako screamed in agony as the piping hot tea splashed all over her forearm. The scalding heat dissolved her fragile skin with violent relish, and she wasn’t sure if the steam billowing over her arm was just from the heat rapidly dissipating or her skin cells evaporating. Katsuki’s red eyes went as huge as blood moons as she crouched down over the shattered teacup and splattered pastries. She held her trembling arm at the elbow, wailing shrilly at the burning pain dominating her senses. Tears streamed down her cheeks to puddle at her chin, then drip down onto her fluffy purple spaceship pajamas.

“I just-” she could barely choke out the words with the sobs heaving in her chest at the terrible stinging pain, “I just didn’t want you to suffer all alone.”

“Jesus, I- Uraraka, don’t just sit there, here,” Katsuki huffed and grabbed her by the elbow of her good arm. It took no effort for him to haul her to her feet and drag her into his bedroom. He kicked the door of his bathroom open and flipped on the light. He lugged her over to the sink to flip on the tap. Ochako quailed at the sight of the stream of cold water, knowing it was going to burn like Hell, and tried to tug away. “No,” Katsuki insisted, and his grip tightened around her arm, but only just enough to keep her in place. “No,” he repeated more softly. With a gentle movement so unlike him, he pulled her back to the sink and lifted her burned arm to the stream of water. “It’s gonna hurt,” he warned.

“I’m fine, Bakugo, really! It’s worse than it looks!” she attempted to dissuade him with fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

“No, Uraraka, you’re not fine!” he barked savagely, and all the protests died in her throat as his voice cracked. While she was reeling, he jerked the burned section of her arm under the cold water. The sudden change in temperature along with the liquid streaming over the wounded flesh tore a shrieking wail from her throat. Soon it died into a few pitiful sniffles as the ice-cold water soothed the stinging flesh. “You’re not fine,” he repeated in a broken whisper. “You’re not fine, I’m not fine, this whole situation is fucked up and so far from fine, it ain’t even funny.”

Her red, puffy eyes found his. While her brown irises swam with awe and shock, his red ones burned with the most vicious self-loathing. He stared miserably at the disfigured skin of her forearm. “’S not fine,” he grumbled. “You were just tryin’ to make me feel better. Now look. I’ve gone and scarred you all up.” Ochako wanted to argue that it probably wouldn’t scar at all, but her tongue was unwilling to voice the fact. She went ahead and closed her mouth that was hanging open, since she clearly couldn’t use it. Katsuki’s face sagged woefully as he watched the last dregs of the dark tea swirl down the sink drain. “That’s all I can do, is fuck up and hurt people.”

“Bakugo, that’s not true.” This time, she was able to voice her opposition. He continued to gaze wretchedly at her arm, so she raised her good one to cup his cheek and force him to meet her eyes. He didn’t resist her. When those vermillion eyes met hers, she couldn’t help but whimper, because she had never seen him wear such a lost and devastated expression.

“I hurt you,” he insisted in a small voice. Ochako smiled forgivingly and caught the single tear that leaked out of the corner of his eye with her thumb. The fact that he was so passive right now, accepting her gestures and even deigning to shed a tear, meant that Ochako’s instincts had been correct. Katsuki was so overwhelmed by the incident at Kamino Ward that he was shouldering the blame entirely. In his mind, it was he and he alone who caused the downfall of the invincible, infallible, indestructible All Might.

“It’s not your fault.” She only had to say it once before the dam broke. He let out a choking sob and put a tightly balled fist to his mouth, obviously trying to contain the roiling emotions inside him. She let out a soothing “hey” and stroked his cheek a little. “It’s okay. You can let it out. I won’t judge you. It’s okay.” It was the most distraught she had ever seen him- face flushed, eyes brimming with tears, teeth clenched, and breaths heaved in between little sobs. At her coaxing, he slowly dropped his hand from his mouth and let out a little choking snuffle, then hung his head.

“I was so fucking useless, Uraraka.”

“There was nothing you could have done,” she said firmly. She reached up to put her hand on the back of his head, guiding his forehead to her shoulder. His hands came up to dig into her upper arms, like she was his lifeline, keeping him from sweeping out into an unforgiving and perilous sea. His body shuddered with an agonized groan, and she began to feel the shoulder of her pajama shirt dampening as the tears finally poured down. “It’s not your fault,” she repeated while rubbing comforting circles into the muscles of his upper back, just above his shoulder blades. “All Might doesn’t blame you. We don’t blame you. Please stop blaming yourself. Sometimes there are just things we cannot do alone, and it’s okay if you need help. But it’s not your fault if that help doesn’t turn out the way you wanted it to.”

His grip on her arm tightened as he heaved another wracking sob. She rested her head against his as he sought ought more of her reassuring presence, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She closed her eyes as tears of her own began to prickle in the corners of her eyes. It was just so heartbreaking, seeing the ordinarily confident and proud Katsuki reduced to such a state. It was enough to bring even the stoutest, staunchest stone wall of a person to tears. Ochako was not made of stone at all, so the tears began to cascade. “It’s not your fault.”

Finally, he nodded weakly. Ochako smiled as he began to wind himself down, inhaling and exhaling deeply to steady his breathing. With each deflation of his lungs, she could feel the tension working out of his muscles. Soon, he was breathing normally again, but he remained with his face buried into her neck and her small frame supporting his bulky one. “Bakugo-”

“Katsuki,” he interrupted quietly. Her face flushed pink. No one called him by his given name, not even Deku- just Kacchan, but that was a little different. “Call me Katsuki, and just… I need a little longer.” Ochako smiled sweetly and nodded. Her head still leaned against his, and his ash-blond hairs twisted a bit with her chestnut locks.

“You take as long as you need to. I’ll be right here.” She closed her eyes to relax, just allowing him to recover his mental state when he did something she would never have expected. His hands slipped from her upper arms to slowly slide to her lower back, and then he pulled her body against his in a small but firm hug. Ochako was so shocked at the intimate gesture that she just froze. She didn’t want him to think it was unwelcome, however, so she quickly gave him a squeeze of her own in response. Her cheeks reddened further when she felt him grin against the junction of her neck.

“Thank you... Ochako.” She hummed affirmingly, and he finally retreated, giving her a small smile. He then returned to serious, kinda-grumpy Katsuki, frowning at her burned arm and lifting it to inspect the injury. “Jeez… Can’t believe myself for this.”

“It’s okay!” she chirped brightly, and he gave her an inquisitive side-eye. “I don’t mind a scar. Scars are sexy, right?” He stared at her in utter disbelief for a second before bursting into a fit of incredulous laughter. Ochako started pouting, very unappreciative of his complete disregard for the sexiness of scars. “What?”

“You? Sexy? Come on.”

“Katsuki, that’s mean,” she frowned. She knew she wasn’t as sexy as Momo or Kyoka, but damn, did he have to go for the throat? His cheeks darkened, and he gave her a stern look.

“Dammit, that’s not-! I just mean-! Gah, I just meant that you’re cute, that’s all! Cute and sexy are two different things, but bein’ cute ain’t bad!” It was evident that he was saying these things well before actually realizing it, because after he finished babbling, he went as red as his vermillion eyes. Ochako stared at him with a gaping mouth.

“You think I’m… cute?”

“W-well, yeah,” he grunted nonchalantly, but the increasing hue of his face belied his words. “With those cheeks of yours, how can I not?” She squeaked in protest as he playfully pinched one of them emphatically. She swatted his hand away, protesting loudly but very much enjoying the compliment as betrayed by her blush. She was so focused on maintaining the unbothered act that he didn’t notice his face approaching her other cheek until he pressed a quick, chaste kiss to it. Her face immediately blazed with heat, like he had dumped some more hot Oolong right in it. He moved so that his face was hovering right in front of hers, their noses nearly touching. “Thanks for the help, cutie.”

It probably would’ve been the smoothest line ever if his face wasn’t the color of Tooru’s llama pajamas. Literally, it was the exact shade, a bright pink bubblegum color. Ochako got the image in her head of Katsuki dressed like a fluffy llama and immediately snorted piggishly in laughter. He reared back as she doubled over, giggling and holding her stomach. “The fuck you laughing at? I mean it!”

“No-! Ah, it’s just-! Ahahaha… You’re just so cute!”

“The hell? I ain’t cute! I fall under the category of sexy, thank you very much! Damn Cheeks…” he grumbled. Still holding her arm aloft, he began rummaging through his medicine cabinet and procured a tub of burn cream and some bandages. They quibbled back and forth over his levels of cuteness and sexiness as he applied the thick white cream to the burn and then wrapped it up. She was so absorbed in trying to keep from breaking into hysterical snickers that she barely registered the little spikes of pain his ministrations caused. After he secured the loose end of the bandage with a fastener, he playfully shoved her in the head. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Cheeks.”

“Is that what you’re calling me now?”

“Damn right,” he confirmed haughtily with another pinch. She groaned as he yanked on the sensitive skin and slapped half-heartedly at him, making him grin widely. “Better get used to it, Cheeks.” She sniggered happily and looked down at her bandaged arm. He had been very gentle in nursing her injury, applying only the necessary amount of pressure, and hadn’t wrapped the dressings too tight. It made her smile warmly. “Oi. Space Case,” he huffed and knocked on her head with his knuckles.

“What?” she pouted. She shrilled as his face dove down to steal a little kiss from her. All she saw was his triumphant grin as he strolled out of the bathroom with his hands stuffed into his sweatpants pockets. “K-Katsuki…!”

“You make it too easy! Let’s go.”

“Wh-where?”

“You were so damn insistent on that tea, so I’m goin’ to get some.” She jumped when she heard the click of his doorknob.

“Ah! Wait for me!” she cried and rushed out of the bathroom. It wasn’t necessary, as he already stood in the threshold. He frowned at her with the faintest hint of a smile. As she hurried to his side, he roughly threw his arm around her shoulders and steered her into the hall. Her face steamed hot with embarrassment, but she snuggled into his form with a tiny smile. “… Are you gonna try the little cakes too?”

“Eh? I ain’t tryin’ no frou-frou girly-ass cakes.”

“But they’re good!”

“Just one! But you better pick wisely. I ain’t gonna forgive you if you give me something gross.”

“Hehe, don’t worry,” Ochako reassured him brightly. He grinned and hugged her a little tighter.

“Ochako?”

“Mhmm?”

“… Nuthin’.” He didn’t say it, but she knew he was thanking her again. She decided against embarrassing him by acknowledging that, and instead said, “Thanks for your help with the burn.” He raised an eyebrow at her, then looked away, faintly blushing.

“Anytime.”

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

Tag List: @deliathedork @mhafandomman @simplybakugou @sadistiks

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duhragonball · 5 years

Text

Dragon Ball Z 110

Piccolo’s awesome. He shows up in the Garlic Junior Saga, and he just throws a thousand gallons of shade all over him. “Garlic Junior, huh? I seem to recall a shit-tier movie villain by that name. But it coudn’t be the same guy as your boss, Spice. No, the Garlic Junior I’m thinking of was a total loser who got beaten by a toddler.”

Maron starts freaking out. The talking pig wasn’t so bad but then Chi-Chi tried to fight her, then all of Krillin’s friends went bonkers, and now the demons in slutty costumes showed up, and now this.

Krillin’s like, “Honey, you knew I had brass balls when you started going out with me. You must have known that I’d get into insane super-adventures all the time.”

Meanwhile, Piccolo wants to know how Garlic Junior escaped from the Dead Zone, since the Spice Boys are clearly too weak to have accomplished this themselves. Piccolo’s not taking any prisoners today.

Spice points straight up, because Part 4 was his favorite JoJo.

The answer, as it turns out, is the Makyo Star. Well, actually, it’s a planet, but I’m pretty sure the Japanese words for “star” and “planet” are kind of interchangeable? I always assumed this was due to early astronomers lacking a distinction between the two. The word “planet”, as I recall, comes from a word meaning “wanderer”, because they looked like stars in the sky, except they followed different paths through the night sky from all the real stars.

Anyway, the Funimation dub calls it “Makyo Star”, while the subtitles translate it as “Makyo World”. “The Planet Makyo” probably would have made more sense, but whatever. What’s funny is that I know English has words to distinguish planets from stars, but we end up mudding the waters anyway, because “Makyo Star” sounds cooler.

Spice’s point is that Makyo is the homeworld of the Mazoku, or Demon Clan, and it approaches the Earth once every 5000 years. When it does, it empowers every demon on Earth, including Garlic Junior, who used the boost to muscle his way out of the Dead Zone.

The weird thing is that he points out that Piccolo ought to have already been aware of this, since Piccolo once identified as Mazoku when he was a villain. And this is why the Mazoku/Demon concept is so confused in this show. Piccolo’s clearly not a demon, he’s a Namekian from the Planet Namek. He was never not a Namekian. I always assumed that King Piccolo called himself Daimao (demon king) because he was evil and had no idea what else to call himself.

But then we got the lore about how anyone killed by the Mazoku was unable to find rest in the afterlife, so there seemed to be real consequences for being a demon. This wasn’t just a throwaway line either. Kami mentioned this rule again when Piccolo killed Raditz in DBZ. Raditz was able to proceed into the afterlife, suggesting that Piccolo had ceased to be be a demon somehow.

This suggested to me that being a demon in Dragon Ball was more about a state of mind, or a corruption of the soul. It was something you could inherit or succumb to, but you could also stop being one if properly motivated. Like voting Republican. But now, Spice is pointing to the Makyo Star, basically revealing that he’s an alien, and wondering why Piccolo didn’t already know about it.

Confusing the issue even more, let’s not forget about the demons in the filler episode from the Fortuneteller Baba Saga. Those guys were led by Shula, and they seemed to live in a cave. Are they Makyans as well? And what about the bad guys in Movie 4? Lord Slug was a Namekian, but his henchmen called themselves Mazoku? Were they Makyans? And why were they vulnerable to sunlight.

Oh, and there’s also Dabura from the Buu Saga, and all the demon lore introduced in Xenoverse and Dragon Ball Heroes, but there’s no sense getting into that.

I guess what I’m driving at is that you’d think Spice would accuse Piccolo of being a poser. He was never a “true” demon in the first place, because he’s from Namek and he didn’t even know what the Makyo Star was. Instead, Spice seems to buy into him being a demon, if only a former one.

Oh, also, while Spice tells this story, the video shows evil spirits floating through the cities, because the Makyo Star is making them stronger. So are these Mazoku as well?

Of course, Garlic’s whole plan this time around involves converting everyone into a demon, using the Black Water Mist. I mean, Oolong sure as hell wasn’t a demon before, but he is now, according to the bad guys.

And Spice is even offering to let Piccolo join them, since he used to be Mazoku before. So it feels like the bar is pretty low for becoming a Mazoku. You inhale cursed mist and become one against your will, or you come from the planet Makyo, or you can just be a disaffected jerk like King Piccolo or Lord Slug.

I like the way the dub handles this scene. Spice’s pitch is that Piccolo really has nothing left to fight for, because the battle’s already over, and Garlic won. The Lookout has fallen, every living thing on Earth has become a loyal subject of Garlic Junior, and they really don’t seem to mind. And wasn’t this sort of what Piccolo had been meaning to do before the Saiyans showed up? Would it be so out-of-character for him to just accept this state of affairs and throw in with the bad guys? Maybe this is the way it ends. Maybe Piccolo should just take this as it is.

Yeah, right.

Piccolo tosses off his weighted cape and turban, and everyone’s like “Is that your answer, you want to fight?” I like that they know what’s up. When Piccolo takes off his gear, it’s time to throw down.

Maybe once, Piccolo might have gone along with this, but I doubt it. Even as a villain, he was motivated by his nature as an outcast. Spice just dared him to take on the whole world, and Piccolo’s like “wouldn’t be the first time.”

Also, why should this dude sweat anybody on Team Garlic? Piccolo’s faced the Saiyans and Frieza, and he’s still here. He’s not King Piccolo’s assassin anymore. He’s a proud son of Namek, and he’s going to honor his heritage the only way he knows how: whuppin’ some demon ass.

Of course, Piccolo can’t just fight the Spice Boys, because Yamcha’s working for them now, and he can fly and fight too. So the Spice Boys just stand back and let Yamcha do their dirty work for them. Gohan really doesn’t like this, and that seems to be a major theme for him in this arc. Garlic is putting him in a position where he has to fight his loved ones, and he just can’t handle it. As strong as he is, he lacks the will to fight back in these situations.

Oh, hey, Yukio Ebisawa is involved in this episode. Like I said before, he’s harder to spot without Vegeta around, but when he has Maron morph into some sort of triangle monster to defend herself from Bulma and Chi-Chi, it’s hard to ignore.

This is what Vegito dreams about...

Fortunately, Icarus shows up to save Maron. Also, Yukio Ebisawa has her swimsuit grow to cover more of her body. Normally, I’d complain about the continuity flub, but I’m grateful to Ebisawa for this, since his Maron would look even worse in a thong.

Also, Evil Paur jumps in and saves Evil Yamcha from Piccolo. This looks pretty disturbing, like Puar is eating Piccolo’s face.

Gohan and Krillin try to help, but Piccolo sends them to Kami’s Lookout, since their only chance of fixing this mess is to get the Ultra Holy Water and use it before it’s too late. He’s going to stay behind and hold these buttholes off.

That’s a tall order though. Well, the Spice Boys and Yamcha are the real threat here. Chi-Chi and Roshi, not so much, and frankly Evil Oolong looks more funny than threatening.

Oh, then they start biting him. Hot damn.

Goku looks like he’s pretty happy that he’s not in this episode. “Hey, guys, it’s me, Goku! Boy I sure am glad I’m on Planet Yardrat right now. Yamcha looks pretty messed up!”

Back from the break, everyone jumps on Piccolo and starts bitiing him. That’s just kind of sick how they dangle off him like lampreys. What made them decide to do this, exactly? Did the Spice Boys tell them to? Did they come up with it on their own?

Gohan was pretty reluctant to leave Piccolo in that mess, but he eventually did as he was told, and now they’re on their way to the Lookout. So is Maron, apparently, because she doesn’t know any better, and Krillin’s too afraid to tell her no.

#squad goals.

Vinegar wants to kill Piccolo while he’s down, but Spice reminds him that if they do, the Dragon Balls will be rendered useless. Besides, if you get bitten by someone infected with the Black Water Mist, you end up the same as if you inhaled it yourself. So Piccolo should now be just like Bulma and the others.

And yeah, that’s exactly what happens.

Meanwhile, oh hell yeah, it’s the Vegeta part. This saga rules.

So if you’re wondering where Vegeta’s been during all of this, he left Earth in Episode 107. Here, we see that he’s been hunting for Goku. For some reason, this has led him to an army of Litts, the same species Vegeta mentioned when he was handing out Frieza Soldier uniforms to Krillin and Gohan. Geets beats them all, then interrogates one to find out where Goku is. This episode is kind of notable for being one of the few times Vegeta refers to Goku as “Goku”.

The Litts don’t know anything about it, though. Apparently they don’t even know that Frieza’s been defeated, which seems odd, considering that he’s been gone for ten months now. Vegeta tells this dude to pass along a message to Frieza in hell Vegeta’s going to surpass and defeat Goku, so Frieza ought to feel grateful for this.

Back on Earth, Krillin and the gang reach Korin’s Tower, and are relieved to find Korin and Yajirobe are unaffected by the Black Water Mist. Korin has no idea what’s been going on, so he reads Gohan’s mind and flips out.

So Gohan and Krillin head up to the Lookout, and leave Icarus and Maron behind.

But when they arrive, they find the Spice Boys already waiting for them, along with their new buddy, Piccolo. Uh-oh...

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ladyanatui · 4 years

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The Seduction of Motomiya Daisuke, Ch. 9 *A Daiken Fic*

Daisuke’s friendship with Ken has always come easily. It’s the lusting after your best friend part that’s hard.

He just didn’t realize how hard until Ken starts acting weird.

Now, Daisuke isn’t sure how long he can handle his BFF and roommate’s sudden attentions. At least, not without potentially ruining a 12-year friendship.

AO3 | FF.Net

Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

KEN

Saturday, 3 p.m.

It's later than I originally intended when I finally allow Daisuke to take a shower. The bath was so comfortable, and I was—perhaps—enjoying my revenge a little too much.

Not that that matters much when his solution tied me into knots. I nearly died on the way to my bedroom—Daisuke was collapsed on his bed, writing in a notebook, his bedroom door ajar, and wearing nothing but a pair of azure boxers, brilliant next to his warm tawny skin. It's an obvious solution to preventing dragging mud everywhere, I suppose, though his spiky hair was still caked with the stuff. I just wasn't prepared. I quickly called out the bathroom was free and hid in my room before he could look my way.

More importantly, though, the long bath gave me time I needed to think.

Now it's his turn to bathe, which gives me the opportunity to get a second opinion.

Daisuke and I have spent almost every waking moment together this weekend, even after last night's disaster, and I haven't had the chance to properly think or plan anything since last night. When I was far too upset to come to any conclusions.

And second opinions?

Well, Hikari's texted me a couple times to ask how it's going, but I've hardly been in a position to properly talk about it. The last thing I need is for Motomiya "I Have No Understanding of Personal Space" Daisuke to steal my phone while I'm texting his fifth-grade crush about my feelings for him.

Can you talk? I text her, eyes darting toward the bathroom.

If all he does it shower, it won't take him long, but it's still enough for a quick chat. If I'm lucky, he'll decide to hop into the bath too.

She doesn't even bother texting me back; my phone rings before I can set it down.

"Moshi moshi," I say when I answer, stirring my steaming oolong tea.

But Hikari breezes past pleasantries. "How are things going? Has anything happened? What's Daisuke-kun's reaction?"

A smile quirks at my mouth, but it fades quickly. "Oh, Hikari, I don't think this is working. This whole weekend has been a disaster."

She hesitates, and when she speaks, her voice is cautious. "What do you mean, Ken?"

"I spent all day yesterday overtly flirting with him, and he just kept giving me these looks—like I was going insane and he had no idea how to fix it. Am I really so bad at this he doesn't realize I'm flirting with him?"

On the other line, she sighs. "Is that all?"

I scowl. "Why are you relieved? I said this is a disaster."

"You've never been touchy-feely or flirtatious, Ken," she reminds me, her voice soothing. "He needs time to adjust and to realize what the change in your behavior means, okay? Don't you dare give up yet."

I slump down in the seat, adjusting the short, indigo and ice-blue kimono so it covers both my thighs. "He almost kissed me last night," I admit in a quiet voice. "He started to lean in. Or at least I thought he did. And I definitely felt, uh, something—you know." Even now, a blush rises to my cheeks. "But then he just rolled away, and he's acted like nothing happened."

I suppose, technically, nothing did happen.

"If he started to lean in, he's interested," she says, her voice soft, reassuring. Then, she hardens. "And really, Ken, we're twenty-three—you should be able to say the word erection out loud."

A scowl tugs at my lips, but I force myself to move past her final words. "If he's interested, why didn't he kiss me? I was practically throwing myself at him—even literally at one point." I heave a sigh, fingers toying with the silk tie at my waist. "Besides, being interested in someone isn't the same as having feelings for them."

"Even if he's only interested in you physically—which I highly doubt—it's not that difficult to develop feelings for someone, especially someone you're already so close with."

"If you're so damn sure of his feelings, why don't you date him?" I snap, then take a long drink of my tea, ignoring the way is scalds my mouth and throat.

Hikari has the gall to laugh. "I had my chance to date Daisuke-kun, but you know better than anyone that he stopped having feelings for me a long time ago."

I sigh, nudging the cup away. "I know."

"Talk to me, Ken. It's not going to get better unless you get it off your chest."

"When he liked you," I begin in a small voice, "he was so vocal about it. Everyone knew. Motomiya isn't exactly subtle." My eyes dart toward the bathroom, where the shower is still running—he's probably having a hell of a time getting the mud out of his hair. "And that's been true the few times he crushed on someone in high school. He talked about them, about you, all the time, but…"

She clicks her tongue. "But he doesn't talk about you like that?"

"Well, no."

"Who would he talk to? You're his best friend and his roommate. You're always the person he turns to for this sort of thing, so if he has feelings for you, who is he supposed to talk to?" She pauses. "I mean, who did you talk to?"

I frown.

That's fair. Hikari was the first person I openly talked to about my feelings, and that was only in the last couple years. Far more recent than the feelings began.

"Okay, I see your point," I finally cede.

"What has today been like? After last night's almost kiss."

I tug my lip between my teeth in thought. "Unbearable, honestly. He's been awkward, and I've been awkward, but I guess it's gotten better. He took me all the way to Tsukiji Market—we're going to make dinner together—and that took forever. He spends half his time catching up with the vendors." I frown. "I suppose it pays off, though—you should've seen the deal he got on fatty tuna. And we ate sushi for lunch while we were there, and then, when we got back, he made me play soccer in the mud."

Hikari snickers. "You realize how much that sounds like a date, right?"

I roll my eyes. "Taking me to the fish market isn't a date."

"Maybe not for a normal person, but this is Daisuke-kun. You know how much he loves cooking for people—he throws a fit any time Takeru and I visit him at the shop and always makes our food special. But he's never shown anyone how to cook anything. Miyako's asked him for help, but he's never given her anything more than a tip here and there, you know?"

My eyes flutter shut, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. "He just wants to make sure I don't burn down the apartment while trying to feed myself. Please stop making this sound like it's more than it is."

Finally, Hikari relents with a sigh. "Fine, fine. I'm just saying, the two of you making dinner together sounds awfully romantic."

I purse my lips. "I'm sure it's not. I just wanted to make sure I had as much time with him as possible."

I take another sip of the oolong. It's cooled down enough it doesn't burn this time.

Okay, perhaps—perhaps—teaching me to cook something is a little romantic. But is it worth it to think like that? The last thing I want is to get my hopes up and then torn asunder, which isn't difficult to imagine.

Of the few relationships he's had, none ever lasted longer than two weeks. He always found some random, not-very-believable reason to break it off.

She snores—hypocrite.

He's too clingy—hypocrite.

She's too messy—again, hypocrite.

He barely passed high school math—need I say it again?

"Ken," Hikari says with a sigh, "you know I want you to be happy, right?" She doesn't pause for me to answer. "Well, right now, that requires you to take the initiative. You don't have time to waste on being pessimistic."

In the distance, the water shuts off.

I listen carefully, but there's no plop or splash. He's not getting in the bath. He's toweling off.

Shit.

"He's coming out of the shower," I say quickly. "I have to go."

"Wait, wait," she says before I can hang up. "Last thing, I promise."

"Hurry."

"Just remember this: You are his most important friend, probably the most important person in his life. I'm certain he has feelings for you, but you have to know he's just as scared as you are to ruin that friendship by admitting it."

The bathroom door opens, and Daisuke spends a few seconds checking his hair in the vanity mirror before heading toward his bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

I bite my lip.

He's such a tease, and he has no idea.

"He needs to see he doesn't have anything to worry about," she continues, "and I know you need to see that too. You've got to keep going, okay?"

I take a deep breath and nod. "Okay."

#daiken #daisuke motomiya #ken ichijouji #digimon #digimon fanfiction #fanfiction #digimon 02 #hikari yagami #fanfic #digi fic #sorry for this taking so damn long #the whole fic is finished on ao3 #and almost finished on ff.net #share the love #seduction of motomiya daisuke #anatui #anatui writes

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sonderlivra · 6 years

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Eruri Valentine’s Weekend 2k18 Collab with the lovely @autiacorart !!!

A late submission, but hopefully worth the wait! :) It was a blast working with such a talented artist! <3

Blackout Café - A Modern Eruri AU

Summary: Levi is a grumpy dork. Erwin is a sappy dork. Basically they’re both dorks. And they meet at a coffeeshop.

Warning: Swearing ahead, oops.

“Fucking shit,” Levi swears, hurrying down the street. A power cut. Who the fuck expects a power cut in this day and age?

He is still grumbling when he bursts into the coffeeshop, looking around a little wildly for the electric socket.

“Fuck,” he swears again. He had forgotten that this was one of the smaller, less pretentious coffeeshops. It was why he liked the place, but right now, he wishes he was somewhere else, anywhere else that has better aids for his dying laptop.

But there is just one table next to a socket and that happens to be occupied, and he doesn't know if he can make it to another coffeeshop in time. Fuming, he stomps over to the counter.

“I need to charge my laptop.”

“Oh we can charge it here for you sir-”

“I need to work.”

The employee pales. “Um, I'm sorry sir, but that table is the only one-”

“Yeah, I noticed,” he snaps. He considers stepping on the other side of the counter where he could work next to the socket. It sounds unappealing and embarrassing and Levi glances back at the table. The man sitting there is casually reading something, the electric socket empty.

Bastard isn't even using it.

Squaring himself, Levi approaches the table, his mouth filling up with several gruff phrases that have worked for him before. When he reaches the table, the blond man, who has his head bent down over an unmarked bound book, looks up -and Levi freezes.

Holy shit. Levi is suddenly at a loss for words. This guy is hot.

His bright blue eyes are wide with curiosity and he smiles a polite smile as he says, “Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah,” Levi manages to rasp and gestures at the electric socket next to the table. “I need that.”

The man glances at the wall and turns back to Levi, his smile widening. “Oh, by all means. Please, have a seat.”

Levi's brain short circuits again. What he meant was to ask the man to take another table, since there were quite a few empty ones around. But no. Mr. Handsome-Lawyer-Guy had to go and assume Levi wanted to share this table. Which he didn't, whether or not this man looked like an artist's rendition of fucking Apollo.

But his laptop beeps another “low battery” warning and Levi decides he doesn't care either way. With a grunt of gratitude, he plugs in his charger and slips into the chair opposite the man, resolutely keeping his eyes trained on the laptop screen.

With a deep breath and a mental command to fucking get a grip of himself, Levi pulls up the chat conversation and pings his client.

Sorry for the delay, Karl. I'm back.

The exchange goes on for longer than expected, with Levi having to upload and send a few of his drafts over the coffeeshop's slow WiFi. When he finally closes the conversation and leans back with a sigh, a low voice startles him by saying, “Busy day?”

Levi opens his eyes and blinks at the blond man: there is no mistaking that it was indeed him that spoke. His astonishingly blue eyes are still widened with interest, his firm mouth still has that polite, easygoing smile that -shit, the man has actual dimples. How the fuck is he even real?

“Uh, yeah.” Levi says, remembering that he was asked a question.

The man throws up a magnificent eyebrow. “Even on a Saturday?”

“Especially on a Saturday. Field day for freelancers.”

“Oh. I see.” He nods so understandingly Levi wonders if his earlier estimation was wrong, whether this man is not a lawyer but a shrink of some sort. Ew.

Again, the man's smile widens unexpectedly. “I'm Erwin,” he says, and offers Levi his hand. Levi takes it almost suspiciously. “Levi,” he mutters.

“An uncommon name,” the man says, eyes gleaming.

“As is yours,” Levi points out.

The man -Erwin -grins at that, showing a flash of neat, white teeth. “True.” He pauses, then continues, “By the way, are you staying? I'm going to go get myself another coffee.”

Levi hesitates. He really has no other plans, except for going back to the drawing board for Karl for the tiresome client. But he can spare a half hour, at the very least. Erwin is intriguing, and he would not mind getting to know him more. And maybe even get his phone number…

No. Levi is shocked at himself. He has never been this interested, this forward, to use Kenny's antiquated term, with anyone. His romantic track record is littered with casual flings and half-hearted attempts, and after Farlan, his record has been conspicuously empty for a long time. Is he really, finally getting out of that slump?

“Levi?” Erwin says softly, and he is brought crashing back to the present.

“Sorry.” He blinks and shakes his head. “I was trying to figure out my schedule. Yeah, I can stay for a bit.”

“Excellent.” The man beams at him and Levi feels another burst of indignance at his attractiveness. “What's your poison?”

Levi snorts. “I can get my own order.”

Erwin shakes his head. “I'm getting up anyway.”

Levi shrugs. “Oolong tea.”

Erwin’s smile falters.

“What?”

“You're ordering tea. At a coffeeshop.”

Levi raises his eyebrow. “So?”

Erwin recovers admirably and shakes his head. “Nothing. I should remember not to make assumptions too fast.”

“Meaning?”

Erwin laughs and Levi can't help but notice he looks a little flustered. “I was trying to guess what sort of coffee you'd drink,” he admits. “Sorry, it was presumptuous of me.”

Levi waves away the apology, interested. “So what do you think I drink?”

“Black.”

Levi snorts. “I drink it black when I do drink coffee so you're not half wrong.”

“Good to know. Well, I'll be back in a minute,” Erwin nods cheerfully and walks over to the counter. Levi quickly takes the opportunity to check out his appearance in the laptop screen, making sure his hair isn't too ruffled or that there isn't anything stuck between his teeth. When he is done with that, he sneaks glances at the counter over the top of his laptop. Erwin is massive: tall and powerfully built, he looks like he spends his free time pressing weights at the gym.

Damn.

Levi quickly switches to his phone and pretends to be browsing it when Erwin returns to the table. He places Levi's drink down with unnecessary grace before taking his earlier seat.

“Thanks,” Levi grunts, to which Erwin responds with another smile. “My pleasure.”

Ugh. Does he ever not smile?

They take a few sips of their drinks in silence, before Erwin thankfully breaks it. “So what sort of freelancing do you do, Levi?”

“I'm an architect.”

“Really?” Erwin looks inordinately interested. “Sounds glamorous.”

Levi can't help it, he lets out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, right. It basically involves drawing lines all day.”

“I'm sure there's more to it,” Erwin insists, leaning forward. “As far as I'm concerned, it's art.”

The statement endears Erwin to him, but he shakes his head. “There are some of us who would take offense at that. The drawing process is very precise and even scientific.”

Erwin waves his hand. “Of course, I understand that. But would calling it an art undermine its value?”

“In my eyes, no.” Levi admits. “But I draw for a hobby and maybe that makes me biased.”

“Did you draw that?” Erwin asks, his eyes gleaming. Levi looks down at his left arm, where most of his tattoo is peeking below the sleeve of his t-shirt. When Levi nods, Erwin hesitates and asks, “May I…?”

Levi can't help but feel a little self-conscious as he tugs up the sleeve. He's been asked this a dozen times before, so the request isn't exactly new. However, this is Erwin he's showing it to. Erwin, the real-life model, the hunk, the first man he has been genuinely interested in for years now. He remembers that this intense, insane pressure is why he hated dating to begin with.

Erwin’s eyes trace the rose curling down his arm, its vines twisting around a plain, sharp sword. It is filled with simple colours, the lines are basic, and the personal sentiment is evident only to him. He wonders what Erwin thinks of it.

“Stunning,” Erwin murmurs, and Levi hurriedly sips some tea to hide the heat in his cheeks.

“Thanks,” he mutters when he feels it is safe to show his face again. “It's my early work, though.”

“It's… absolutely perfect,” Erwin says, his voice still low.

That seems to break the spell, and Levi snorts. “What, really? ‘Perfection’ is a myth.”

“Perfection is subjective,” Erwin corrects him, that curious gleam still in his eyes. “Much like art.”

To that he has nothing to say. Meanwhile Erwin digs in his pockets and pulls out a surprisingly worn leather wallet. He plucks out a card and says, “Maybe this will substantiate my words. I'm an editor at a publishing house.” Levi takes the card, his heart thudding. “Maybe you've heard of us?”

Wings of Freedom Press. Levi has heard of them: an old company, going back decades, but not one of the big names. The title under the neat “Erwin Smith” simply says 'Editor’.

“I've heard of you,” Levi confirms. His chest is feeling more and more hollow with every passing second and the reason makes itself known with Erwin's next words.

“When I say 'perfect’ I mean it's exactly what I've had in mind for our next publication. We've been looking for an illustrator, and, at the risk of repeating myself, your art would be perfect for the book.”

A business proposition was all Erwin had in mind, nothing more. Levi feels like he could kick himself in the ass all the way home, the physical impossibility of it be damned.

“You just saw my tattoo. That's enough for you to make a decision?” He asks, stalling. Though the attraction is clearly one-sided, Levi feels resentful and badly wants to decline the offer. He only hesitates because this offer could be lucrative in the long run.

Just that, of course. No other reason.

“Art styles change over the years but remain, in essence, the same. I -let’s just say I have a good feeling about this.” Erwin says smoothly. “I can only say so much, but I urge you to consider it. I think you'll like what we can offer to you, and we would be thrilled to have you as a part of the team.”

“I already have a client.”

“Of course. If it doesn't take more than two months of your time to finish your contract with your current client, the offer is still open.”

Karl and his problematic specifications would be gone in two weeks at the most. That left him with little to no excuses for refusing Erwin.

“I understand that this is unconventional,” Erwin goes on, seemingly unaware of Levi's growing antipathy. “You can, of course, email me a portfolio of a few select works. We should be able to draw up a formal offer soon enough.”

Levi grits his teeth, still fingering the card. He wants to ask if he would have to work closely with Erwin but can't bring himself to say it. He doesn't know what he wants the answer to be, in any case.

“I'll think about it,” he manages finally. He doesn't want to make a choice now, when his emotions are all in a fucking mess, and regret it later.

Erwin suddenly seems to realise that he is sitting with a stranger in a coffeeshop. “Fair enough.” He swigs down the rest of his coffee and says, a little nervously, “I'm sorry if I came on too strong. I just -am very impressed by your skills and wouldn't want to pass up the opportunity to work with you.”

Stop. Just fucking stop. Levi wants to scream at the man, but he knows it is immature and unfair of him. Erwin wasn't flirting with him in the slightest, he sees that now. On the other hand, Erwin does seem genuinely impressed, and how can Levi blame him if he sees a business opportunity in that?

“Right.” Levi finds his teacup empty, and stands up. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Oh. You're welcome.” Surprised, Erwin stands up, too.

Levi hesitates, then offers him his hand. “Nice talking to you.”

Erwin’s face is almost unrecognisable, a stiff, polite mask. “And you.”

With a small, final nod, Levi gathers up his laptop and charger, and marches away. When he steps into the street, he stops for a moment, trying to remember if he's run out of cigarettes at home.

“Levi!” The coffeeshop's doors swing open behind him and Erwin strides out. “I forgot -is there any way I can contact you?”

Too surprised by Erwin's sudden reappearance, Levi nods. “Uh, yeah. Hang on.” He gropes in his pocket and finds his card case. Plucking one out, he hands it to Erwin, who squints at it as though it holds very important instructions. “And… this is your personal phone?”

Levi raises an eyebrow. “Yeah.”

“Then, would it be alright if I contacted you on this number? Outside of work?”

Levi stares at him for the full moment it takes him to realise what Erwin is implying. “Are you asking me out?” He asks him point-blank.

A now-familiar smile spreads on Erwin's face. “Yes, I am.”

Levi's heart is thudding erratically again, the hollowness from before replaced by so much warmth he feels like he could melt right there on Erwin's dress shoes. (And who the fuck wears dress shoes on a Saturday?)

“Wow,” he comments. “You hire people better than you ask them out.”

Erwin chuckles and Levi notices the slightly pink hue of his cheeks. Is Erwin Smith, the real-life model, the hunk, blushing? Well, damn.

“I'm a little rusty,” Erwin admits. “And a lot more used to hiring people.”

“Clearly.”

“So, is that a yes?”

Levi gives him a contemplative look, taking in the deep blue eyes, and the strong shoulders, and the trim waist. “It's a maybe,” he begins, and does not miss the disappointed flash in his eyes before finishing his sentence, “for the illustration gig. You can definitely buy me another drink.”

Erwin’s face lights up so quickly Levi nearly laughs. The man is like a fucking Labrador. “I'll text you, then.”

“Perfect.” Levi throws him a last smirk before walking away, fighting the urge to skip like a demented child, the expression on Erwin's face bringing an unnaturally sunny smile on his own.

Power cuts, Levi decides, are really fucking underrated.

A/N: My knowledge of architects and their work is very, very basic. Hopefully I haven’t misrepresented you guys!

Thanks again @autiacorart for so beautifully capturing the essence of my story in your art! And thank you all for reading!

#eruriweekend #eruri #snk #snk fanfiction #collaboration #autiacorart #aot #levi ackerman #erwin smith #delivras

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nonebothersgiven · 7 years

Text

Teatime

Harry hated tea. It was bitter, and it made his biscuits soggy. He had tried having it with milk, but it ended up just tasting like milk that was a bit off in flavour, as if it had been sitting out for too long, or perhaps a few days old. He added sugar to it next, but then it just tasted like sweet water, and reminded him of thin syrup or watery treacle. Tea just wasn’t for him. He preferred really sweet drinks like butter beer or cider. He liked the things that put him right on the cusp of diabetes. His absolute favorite thing to drink, to both Hermione’s and Ron’s horror, was white chocolate, hot chocolate. He preferred the sickening sweet of white chocolate over milk, and loved to top it off with thick whipping creme, and a broken stick of candy cane - broken only because he had no self control, and usually ended up gnawing on the crooked end as he warmed his milk. Yes, Harry Potter hated tea, which was why his best friends could not comprehend his recent tea drinking habit that occurred three times a week at the new tea shop in Hogsmeade.

Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday Teaspoon of Sugar found itself inhibited by Harry Potter, adversary of tea. He always took a seat towards the back of the shop, nestled in a darkened corner, at a small splintered table with only one chair. Jasmine, the owner of the shop, knew Harry very well, and not because of his fame, but because of his clear distaste for her teas. She saw his visits as a personal challenge and strived to find a blend he wouldn’t flinch at so fiercely. The first day, she had made the mistake of serving him a traditional black, as he hadn’t known what to order, and so she figured he ought to start with something familiar. He waited until she left to take his first sip, but she watched from behind the counter as she had extreme pride in her art, and thought she would be seeing a tea virgin become enlightened, but to her utter surprise and dismay, she saw the boy nearly spit the tea out. A little bit even dribbled down his chin. Since then, she had served him a variety of blends - camomile, green, white, oolong - she even added herbals to the mix, though they were not technically teas. None of her efforts or varieties of teas were appreciated by Mr. Potter. Every time, he would take a minuscule sip, and his eye would develop a rather severe twitching problem. The only time he looked close to content was only a few weeks prior when she had made him a hot Chai. Still, he did not finish the entire cup, and looked rather sullen as he left the shop about an hour later. Jasmine had felt unusually defeated that day, and vowed that she would find a tea to Harry Potter’s liking.

Draco Malfoy also hated tea. It had been a staple at the Manor, where his mother had made teatime somewhat mandatory. It was a rare uninterrupted moment for mother and son to chat and escape from their busy lives. It was for this reason that Draco never spoke up about his little tea conundrum in worry that his mother might not find time for him at all. After he had moved out from the manor and into a small flat with a small cat and a tiny tea pot, he vowed to never drink tea again. It was a vile drink that wasn’t near sweet enough. It didn’t matter how much sugar he added, he could still taste the sting of the beverage on the back of his tongue. Draco preferred the sweeter things in life like hot chocolate and pumpkin juice with a thick layer of whipping creme on top. Why on earth did people dip their biscuits in something so offensive, when they could be soaked in warm chocolate instead? Never the less, every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, Draco found himself breaking his vow, a boiling cup of leafy water in his hand as he sat at a worn table by the window in the new shop of Hogsmeade.

Jasmine knew of that Draco Malfoy, and it had nothing to do with his fame. He was her best customer. The boy was in at least three times a week and ordered multiple cups of tea during his lengthy stays. It did not matter what she served him - black, earl grey, white with mint - he always drank every last sip, and left with a flick of his lip which she inferred to be an inconspicuous smile. The boy alone was responsible for a third of her earnings from the week before, and she had made it her mission to find a way to repay him. For months she had worried herself with what she could do. Perhaps she could brew a special blend and give it his name, but no, she figured he was a rather private sort who may not like the attention. Maybe she could give him a discount, or even a free cup every hour, but well, she was a new business, and he was a well paying customer after all, perhaps not. It wasn’t until she looked up from her counter to do the usual checking up on Mister Potter, that she noticed something peculiar. His eye still had the familiar twitch, and yet it, along with the other, was focused across the room on her favorite customer no less. She followed his gaze to where Draco sat and watched curiously as the other boy looked up to meet Potter’s stare. The twitching eyes immediately adverted and Potter’s red face buried itself in its unfinished tea cup. Draco continued to stare at Potter for a few more moments, and then focused back on his cup too, taking another generous swig of ginger tea. As he set his cup on the table, the corner of his mouth flicked upward in that small, secret smile of his, and Jasmine hit the counter with resolve.

Two weeks later and Jasmine was exhausted. It was the Tuesday before Christmas, and she had worked all night on her gift to Draco Malfoy. At one point, she had worried that she had taken on too much. Tea, she knew, but any other drinks, especially those of the sickening sweet variety were foreign to her, but in the end she had pulled it off. Potter walked in to the shop, snow sparkling against his grey school uniform, and started to walk towards his usual table in the shadow of the shop. Jasmine gave him no time to become fully seated before she dropped a hot mug of hot chocolate down in front of him with a heavy thud. Harry looked up at her with wide green eyes, clearly caught off guard. Jasmine smirked at him with a mad look in her twinkling black eyes, and swatted her hand over to the direction of a recently seated Draco Malfoy.

“It’s from him,” she shouted gleefully.

Harry’s eyes widened even more, and he nearly fell out of his chair as he attempted to peer around her to see his faux gift giver, who also looked like she’d just hit him with a rather strong stupefy. Both boys blushed up to their ears, and did not make any attempts to move from their seats. Jasmine was perhaps a little overtired when she plucked the Savior of the Wizarding world from his seat and kicked at his ankles with a maniacal grin on her face until the boy began to stiffly walk on his own towards the other.

Once at Draco’s table, Harry sat the mug of hot chocolate down slowly, as if any sudden movements might scare the Slytherin off. Draco looked up to him with clear expectation, his nose and cheeks red from embarrassment and the frost of the snow.

“Um...thanks,” was all Harry said. There was a moment of silence that had Jasmine on the tips of her toes.

“You’re welcome,” was all Draco said back.

Harry sat down at the table by the window, across from where Draco shown in the winter light. Draco stiffened while Harry fidgeted with his mug.

“So, I hate tea,” Harry admitted sheepishly.

Draco’s mouth twitched, “Oh.”

Harry relaxed into his chair, and set his elbows on the table, taking up some of Draco’s room, though the boy seemed not to mind; In fact, Jasmine could have sworn that Draco leaned into the bit of space still between them, as if getting closer meant that he could soak up some of Harry Potter’s warmth. Harry ran his fingers through raven black hair. Draco watched, mesmerized.

“Yeah, so, basically, I only come here for you,” both Harry and Draco flinched at the bravery of the confession, and Harry fought the urge not to back peddle and play the whole thing off as a joke. “Er- I mean, well...yeah, I do.”

Harry sat his hand down on the table, and Draco’s own hand trembled. Harry began to tap his fingers in agitation, and looked up startled when Draco stilled them with his own.

Harry swallowed, “I saw you sitting here through the window. You looked- the sun was shining on your face, and I thought, I have to watch you, er- not in a creepy way, although now that I say it out loud, it is definitely kind of creepy, but uh-,” Harry paused unsure how to dig himself out of his humiliation. Draco ran his index finger over the little hairs on Harry’s wrist.

“I saw you walk in here the day it opened, and I thought you must like tea.”

Jasmine watched in awe as Draco Malfoy smiled, not a secret smile, but a full-fledged, teeth bearing grin. Harry laughed, and took a sip of the once forgotten cocoa. Draco looked up at Jasmine with an expression happier than she had ever seen him and spoke with utmost confidence and just a sprinkle of snark, “Can I get one of those too? I don’t much like tea either.”

Jasmine felt the entire world shift in that moment, and her full smile turned to shock. She felt her eye catch Potter’s twitch, and she made her way back behind the counter in defeat. Did no one at all like her tea? Perhaps this wasn’t her calling. Perhaps she was meant to be the inventor of sugary drinks. She grumbled to herself about taking up the profession of a chocolatier or a pastry chef. Of course, she would make the drink for her best customer, but she would make it white chocolate to punish his deception. That would teach him and Potter a very sweet lesson.

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thatwriterchickrachel · 6 years

Text

Mysteries at Midnight - 51.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Relationships: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng; Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe; Chat Noir/Ladybug

Characters:

Chat Noir (Miraculous Ladybug)

Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug)

Alya Césaire

Adrien Agreste

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Nino Lahiffe

Plagg (Miraculous Ladybug)

Tikki (Miraculous Ladybug)

Madame Bustier (Miraculous Ladybug)

Chloé Bourgeouis (Miraculous Ladybug)

Nathaniel Kurtzberg (Miraculous Ladybug)

Lila Rossi (Miraculous Ladybug)

Additional Tags:

dance au

Ballroom dance

College

Grown up AU

Royalty AU

Language:English

Read on Ao3

Chapters 1-30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50

Chapter 51 - Consideration and Deliberation

Summary: Marinette and Alya deal with an unfortunate event and Adrien gets some unfortunate news

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Chat asked, voice tense. Marinette just watched them; this was not what she had expected to happen.

“Now you’ve got to be joking,” Alya cried, storming over to him. “I told you last night that dealing with Marinette’s ex was myresponsibility as her best friend, you don’t get to just show up and take over, cat-boy.”

“Look, how about we both just calm down,” Marinette tried to diffuse but neither of them paid attention to her.

“I’m not trying to take over, but if you’d done a better job of looking out for her, you wouldn’t have needed me,” Chat protested and Marinette immediately stepped between them, knowing exactly where this was going to end up.

“Oh dear god, both of you please stop,” she begged, standing between them, arms out to separate them.

“Alya, take a chill pill. He’s here because it got really late and I asked him to stay,” she told her friend. Her brown eyes were still blazing but she gave a nod and crossed her arms over chest with a frown.

“And Chat, what the hell? You can’t talk my best friend that way,” she warned. “I told you last night not to let this bother you. It’s over now.” Chat looked at her, confused as to why she was scolding him.

“It’s obviously not over for him,” Alya sighed. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have been there last night.”

“Ladybug and I are going to be sticking around for a bit after the competition; we’re going to be making sure whatever consequences from Volpina and by that, I mean her partner and whatever else she has planned for contingency, we’re going to make sure we can protect and help you. You and Adrien,” he added.

“Can we not do this this morning, please,” she begged. “Chat, you have to go get ready for this afternoon and I have Ladybug coming in a couple of hours to get her costume so Alya, you need to be gone by then.”

“B-but can’t I stay and talk with Ladybug?”

“Not if you want to get your camera angles and interview stuff planned beforehand,” Marinette replied and Alya pouted but nodded in understanding. “So, are you two on a truce?” She asked, seeing Chat begin to make his way to the spare room.

The two locked eyes for a moment before they nodded, almost simultaneously. Marinette breathed a sigh of relief and watched as the boy disappeared into the spare room.

“What happened between you two?” Alya asked, Marinette turned to see her friend waggling her eyebrows.

“N-nothing,” she protested despite her cheeks burning with a blush. “I just wanted to make sure he was okay.” Alya stared at her and she sighed. “And he found out about Nathaniel being here Sunday night and I didn’t want him to freak out and try and find him, okay?”

“Sound like someone likes you a little more than a friend,” Alya muttered before she made her way to steal a pastry from the plate as Chat returned.

He had swapped his mask and pulled on his bomber jacket once again.

“I better head home,” he explained. “You’re right I need to get ready, and I’m sorry Marinette but I need a real coffee,” he added with a half-smile.

“Y-yeah, I understand that. Sorry, I don’t get the fancy stuff you’re probably used to,” she teased lightly, very aware of Alya’s eyes on them.

“So, I’ll, um, call you?” he asked, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Uh, sure, if you want,” Marinette could feel her cheeks flush darker. “Good luck today, really. I know you’ll do great.”

“Thanks. Make sure you get your well-deserved rest, okay?” he smiled and she nodded.

She held the door open for him and they said goodbye, but before Marinette could shut the door Alya shouted “That’s it?”

“I’m sorry Alya, do you have something to say?” Marinette said very deliberately as she slowly turned to stare at her friend. Alya’s determined expression faltered for a second before she shook her head.

“I’ll walk Chat Noir down. Mari, can you put the kettle on? I could really go for one of your mother’s oolong teas,” Alya asked as she moved out the door. “Thanks, I’ll be right back!” she sung, shutting the door behind her.

Marinette gaped for a moment before sighing, deciding it really wasn’t worth the effort. She opened Tikki’s cage door and the bird flew out, perching on Marinette’s shoulder as she filled and re-boiled the kettle, pulling out her teapot. She ran her fingers over the design – it was the rare one that Adrien had bought her after she had so clumsily broken hers. She set the teapot down and made her way into her bedroom, tugging the fabric off Ladybug’s dress form and checking over her stiches and the changes she had made to the design.

It was a simple black dress with a sweetheart neckline, capped sleeves and a black wrap skirt that fell to the middle of her calves. There was a large red ribbon tied around the waist that hid the changes she had made and she couldn’t help but smile in pride.

Beneath the detachable wrap skirt revealed the actual skirt of the dress, the black fabric stopping mid-thigh with a long red tulle extension that was hemmed with thick red ribbon. The tulle had black polka dots on it and when Alya had picked it up even though it hadn’t been on her list, Marinette knew she needed to use it.

She had also covered the black sleeves with the same fabric and at the back she had draped two lengths of the tulle at the back, attached to two red ribbon arm bands that gave the appearance of wings. Overall, it seemed like a pretty standard ballroom dress. Marinette just hoped her choice of a second skirt would work in their favour somehow.

Tikki chittered in approval and Marinette gave her a scratch on the head in appreciation.

“Today’s gonna be a long day, Tikki,” she sighed, making her way back into the living area and checking on the water. It had boiled so she began the process of pre-heating the teapot and getting out the oolong leaves.

She had gotten out the tea cups and was letting the tea steep when Alya returned. Tikki had flown over to her perch in the corner of the room and was happily surveying them.

“I hope you left him alive,” Marinette sighed as Alya sat on the stool. “He needs to compete this afternoon.”

“I know, I know. I promise he left here unscathed,” she raised her hands in surrender and Marinette raised an eyebrow. “Look, I just told him not to lead you on if he isn’t interested. You’re my best friend, I’m just looking out for my girl. You know I’d be the same with any other guy. It’s just, we also know how interested he is in Ladybug. I don’t want him messing with you if it’s just get over her.”

“Alya…” Marinette looked at her friend. She really needed to tell her the truth, she knew that. “Can we hang out tonight? I know you’ve got a duty to your blog and to be at the competition today, but I’d really like to just hang out and talk, yknow?”

“Oh, Nino’s got something planned, sorry babe, how about another night?” she asked, her attention caught more on her phone that was lighting up next to her.

Marinette gave a sigh and a “sure, I guess,” seeing that Alya wasn’t paying too much attention.

“Oh hell no!”

“What?”

“Marinette I’m so sorry,” Alya looked up with a pained expression.

“What?”

“I swear, I’m taking it down right now,” Alya continued and Marinette snatched the phone from her hand.

The Ladyblog that Alya had been bragging about just the night before, had been hacked again and a video of Marinette and Chat Noir dancing at the club had been posted. Marinette balked as she saw the comments, people in disbelief about how Chat Noir could do that to Ladybug, how Marinette could do that to both of them.

Alya snatched the phone back, hurriedly trying to delete it.

“Don’t,” she sighed.

“What?”

“Don’t take it down. There’s no point. There were heaps of people at the club last night, a bunch of people saw us together. If you take that down a ton more will spring up. It’s not worth it,” she sighed. “At least it’s not the one with the kiss,” she added quietly as she checked on the tea.

“Marinette, are you sure about this? This isn’t just slamming Chat, they’re slamming you too, calling you a homewrecker and stuff,” she said carefully, skimming through the comments.

“Look, I saw what they’re saying, okay? But Ladybug and Chat Noir aren’t a couple and if people hadn’t been putting suggestions out to begin with this wouldn’t be a big deal,” Marinette responded irritably. She put the teapot down when she noticed her hands shaking with annoyance.

“Marinette, I never meant anything by it. I didn’t think it would… that Volpina would…”

“It’s not just you, Alya,” she sighed. “Chat’s just as much to blame.” Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose as she focused on her breathing.

“Why would Volpina post this?” Alya suddenly asked.

“What?”

“No seriously, why would she do this?”

“Why? Alya are you crazy? This makes Chat Noir look bad, it’s meant to upset Ladybug. It’s…” her eyes widened as she realized. “If Volpina posted it, it’s to make Ladybug upset in the hopes to tear her and Chat Noir apart,” Marinette began and Alya nodded.

“But think about it, if she makes Ladybug look hurt and betrayed in front of the entire internet, she’s pretty much just handed Ladybug a pass to Adrien.”

Marinette couldn’t believe it. Of course, Adrien was going to want to be there for her, he cares for Ladybug. Volpina had just provided Ladybug with a free pass… but why?

“What if it wasn’t Volpina,” Marinette asked. “What if it was… Nathaniel?”

“Nathaniel?”

“Well, if Ladybug has Adrien, I’d have to go back to him, right?” Marinette said, but she didn’t fully trust it herself. Something still wasn’t quite right about it.

“Alya, I think you need to make this post yours. Edit it, add a comment, tag it, whatever you can. I think you should make sure people see it.”

“But… Marinette, people aren’t seeing you as the good guy in this.”

“So? Make sound like I am. The longer it goes without a caption, people are going to draw whatever conclusions they want. If you say, I don’t know, ‘my girl teaching the boy a thing or two’, it’ll change the context.”

“Marinette… are you sure?”

“Alya, please, just trust me on this,” she pleaded and Alya nodded before hurriedly typing away, her fingers moving incredibly fast as she reuploaded the video with her own caption and then deleting the original.

“It’s done.”

“Now we wait,” Marinette nodded.

~~~~~

Adrien couldn’t believe what he had seen. His phone had gone off with a Ladyblog notification shortly after he had left Marinette’s place.

Alya had tried to get a story from him as she walked him out but he had just told her what Marinette had said, annoyed that she had kept the Nathaniel thing to herself. Alya had also given him a warning not to play aorund with Marinette's feelings, and whilst he knew she was looking out for her, he was a little offended that she thought he would.

So why would Alya have posted that video? He wondered as the comments flooded the blog.

‘How could Chat do this to Ladybug? I’m heart broken.’

‘Ladybug must be so upset.’

‘I can’t believe Marinette would betray Ladybug like this.’

He was furious at the words that filled the comments, people hurling insults towards Marinette when it had been he who had lead her on. She hadn’t done anything to make him betray Ladybug, he had been quite aware of his choices the whole night, even if they were a bit of a shock to him.

Besides, there was nothing between him and Ladybug, at least, not officially. Why were these people, these strangers, so invested in their lives? His phone blinked again from the Ladyblog and when he opened it, he had to do a double take.

Alya had re-uploaded the video but captioned it this time.

My girl Marinette teaching Chat Noir how to really move.

He couldn’t see the original post anymore, but the comments on this one weren’t as bad.

‘Wow, Marinette has really learned a lot in Madame Bustier’s class!’

‘I guess he’s just a flirt when he dances.’

‘Looks like Chat Noir has met his match.’

‘I hope Ladybug doesn’t get jealous.’

He blinked in surprise. The reupload with the caption had resulted in a drastic change of attitude in the comments. He wanted to call Marinette, to see if she was okay, but he was at his building now and thanking Gideon for his help the night before.

“I’ll have the car running at eleven so we can make our way to the competition,” Gideon explained and Adrien nodded. Thanking him again before making his way up the elevator and into his apartment.

The tv was off and the remnants of last night were still scattered around the coffee table. Open DVD cases, an empty plate of food and an empty glass sitting beside it, the dregs of his drink now nothing but sticky residue at the bottom. He sighed, picking them up and taking them to the dishwasher, stacking them but not turning it on, before making his way to his bedroom.

Plagg seemed as if he hadn’t moved from the spot in the centre of Adrien’s bed and only looked up at him uninterested before getting up and leaving the room.

Adrien pulled out the garment bag, laying it on his bed before he went for a much-needed shower. He surprisingly felt pretty good after his night, despite his small headache that morning. He thought back, trying to count how long he had been asleep. He and Marinette had said goodnight around two in the morning, and she had complained at three when he asked to lay with her but after that, he had fallen asleep incredibly quickly.

To his surprise he had woken up at one point with Marinette’s arms around his shoulders, her arms cold and shivering slightly in her sleep. When he had moved to try and pull the extra blanket over her, she had muttered something about him being warm and had attached herself to him once again. With a small smile he’d put his arms around her and fallen asleep once again.

Adrien stepped out of the hot spray as he heard his phone chiming. He turned off the taps and wrapped a towel around him before picking his phone up off of the bed. He grimaced at the number.

“Hello, this is Adrien Agreste speaking.”

“Adrien,” his father’s voice was cold and empty as always. “I have made arrangements for you and Mademoiselle Bourgeois to travel to Asluicia for a week. It will be your chance to put what you’ve learned to the test and to see just what’s expected of you. I trust I don’t need to remind you that you’ve given me your word to see this through. You leave tomorrow evening. I’ll have Nathalie send you the details.”

“Wait, but-” Adrien was cut off by the dial tone, as had become the custom recently, he thought grimly.

So he was leaving tomorrow, for a weeks trip to Asluicia, with Chloé. There went any real chance he had to talk to Ladybug about… them. He wasn’t even sure about the whole thing. Had he just been attracted to Ladybug because of Marinette? Or was he now attracted to Marinette because of Ladybug?

Adrien sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at the floor, hair dripping slowly onto the carpet.

What was he going to say to her when he saw her? What should he say? And should he say it as Chat Noir, or as Adrien? He should just be honest with her, he supposed. Tell her the truth, that he, Adrien Agreste, was Chat Noir, and he liked Ladybug and Marinette. If she couldn’t handle that then… at least it would make the decision for him.

But he had to do it before he left tomorrow, and he couldn’t do it before the competition, there was already too much pressure on them both. So afterwards.

After could work, he thought, pulling himself up and making his way to the kitchen, tightening his towel as he went. He turned on his coffee machine, going through the process mechanically as his mind continued to plan.

He could offer to walk her home or something, he wondered but then shook his head. Revealing himself in public wasn’t a great idea, let alone straight after the competition. Maybe he could ask to meet her at the studio tonight. It would be just the two of them and he could tell her.

Though it seemed unfair to trap her like that.

But what would it mean if he kept silent? Both she and Marinette would be stuck, falling for a guy who would be gone in just five months. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

He took a sip from his coffee, wincing as it burnt his tongue. Maybe he should just tell Marinette. That at least could be done, right?

Except… Adrien wasn’t sure he was ready to make it awkward with her just yet. It had taken her this long to relax around him as a friend, if she found out he was Chat Noir… it would be back to square one.

And now so was he.

Adrien shook his head, finishing his coffee and making his way back to his room to get dressed. He pulled on some jeans and a black shirt with some coloured stripes across the chest and grabbed his bomber jacket off the floor. He went into the bathroom and dried his hair, taking time to comb and style it into rather deliberate points around his head, leaving space for him to clip in his ears later.

When he was ready he looked at the time. He was running early, but he didn’t really have any reason to hang around. So he put his mask, ears, tail and bell his dance bag with his shoes and picked up the garment bag.

He called goodbye to Plagg and made his way to elevator to see it was already coming up… to his floor. Panicking, because he was the only apartment on this floor, Adrien took to the stairwell, gently shutting the door before he heard the elevator ding open.

“I didn’t see his driver,” Dessinatuer’s voice floated through as the elevator doors opened. Adrien froze, pressing his ear to the door, hoping to hear better.

“Yeah well, after your little screw up, I need to make sure Ladybug hasn’t come running,” Volpina sneered. “What were you thinking? I asked you to get the video to me for blackmail, not to post to that stupid blog!”

“Well, you should’ve been clearer. I nearly got caught, too. It seems Alya had the security upped after last time.”

“Well, go hide in the stairwell or something. If he’s home, I don’t want Adrien seeing me with you and getting the wrong idea.”

Adrien’s heart began to race. He had to get out of there, he thought as he heard Dessinatuer sigh. He turned, beginning his descent, hoping he didn’t make too much noise.

He got to the next floor as he heard the stairway door above him open. Adrien froze for a minute, if he had had an opportunity to get out in the next floor he had just missed it.

What should he do? What could he do?

He continued his descent, pulling his mask from his bag as he did so. He had just slipped it on over his head when his phone rang out. He flinched and hurriedly tried to silence it, but he knew he had been heard.

Act casual, he told himself.

“Hello?”

“Adrien, it’s me. I saw Volpina enter your building. Should I call the authorities?”

“Oh hey man,” Adrien said, hoping he sounded casual as his heart beat in his ears. He continued his descent in case Volpina’s partner decided to come down and check out the noise. “I’m on my way out at the moment.”

“Are you wearing the mask?”

“Yeah. Sorry to keep you waiting. Whose car are you driving today?”

“I am driving the black car. I will be out the front in a moment. Make sure to get in the passenger’s seat.”

“Oh cool, thanks. I’ll see you in a sec then,” Adrien replied, relieved that Gideon hadn’t made it too difficult.

“Chat Noir?” He froze mid-step and looked up.

“Dessinatuer? What are you doing here?” he frowned.

“I…er, wait, what are you doing here?” the boy looked tired, but it was hard to tell with the dark makeup across his eyes. He wore a simple black coat and jeans and his hair was slicked back.

“This is my building,” Adrien explained.

“You… You live in the same building as Adrien Agreste?” He seemed surprised.

“Ah, so you don’t stalk everyone. Just Marinette and Ladybug then?” Adrien couldn’t help himself and a small sense of smugness filled him for a moment. He had Marinette now… sort of.

The boy narrowed his eyes.

“You should be more careful of how you talk to me, I could make your life hell,” Dessinatuer threatened.

“I’m not scared of you, or your partner. I’ll see you on the floor,” Adrien said, his voice sounding bored. “Oh, and Adrien’s not home,” he called out as he made his way down the last few floors.

He couldn’t stop the slight smug smile as he heard Dessinatuer rush back up out of the stairwell. Adrien pushed open the door on the bottom floor and exited the building. As he slid into the passenger side of the car, he was sure they were watching him from the lobby windows.

“That was close,” Gideon said simply as he took off and Adrien nodded.

“Today it should all be over.”

“Well tomorrow you are going to Asluicia; but I highly doubt she won’t try to come and see you.”

“Let her try,” Adrien sighed “the alarm will be on.”

“What about Plagg?”

“O-oh,” Adrien felt a moment of shame as he realized he hadn’t considered what would be happening with his pet. “I’m sure Nathalie will have something organized. If not I’m sure one of my friends could watch him.”

Gideon nodded. “And Marinette? Will you tell her?”

“What, that I’m going away?”

“Amongst other things.”

“I don’t know. So many things are happening. I… I’ll guess I’ll talk to her when the time is right.”

“Adrien, don’t put off things like this. There will never be a right time,” Gideon sighed.

Adrien looked at him but nodded, wondering what could have brought on the wisdom. Deep down though, he knew Gideon was right.

#ml fanfic #ladybug #chat noir #ballroom au #dance au #mysteries at midnight #royalty au

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