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blu-joons · 3 years

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When Your Cat Doesn’t Like Him ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

You couldn’t help but chuckle as your cat moved aside from Jin just as he reached out to begin to stroke over the top of his head. “What did I do so wrong?”

Your shoulders shrugged back at him as he moved closer to your cat, only for your cat to move further out of the way. “I don’t think he likes you.”

“But I’ve done nothing wrong,” Jin frowned, placing his hands back into his lap, “have you told him to hate me or something?”

“I’ve not done anything,” you protested, “you must just give off bad vibes.”

“How? I’ve only been here five minutes.”

Your head shook at the pout on his face, “he’s a smart cat, maybe he’s trying to tell me something, that there’s something not quite right with you.”

His eyes rolled, staring at your cat on the other end of the sofa, “I’ve never had an animal dislike me before, especially not like this.”

“You must have done something very wrong in a past life to him or something, because he definitely doesn’t want to be stroked by you,” you laughed.

“You just wait, I’ll make him change his mind.”

Yoongi:

As soon as Yoongi stepped into your home, your cat instantly kept a distance, especially as Yoongi knelt down to try and greet her. “Does she not like strangers?”

Your head shook, noticing how uncharacteristic it was of her. “She normally will come up to anyone, I don’t know why she’s not liking you.”

“Does she like dogs?” Yoongi then asked you, quickly noticing everything fall into place when your head shook. “Can she sense Holly?”

“Surely not,” you sighed, “although it would make a lot of sense.”

“I’ve got fur all over me most days.”

As Yoongi stepped forwards again and your cat backed away, you soon began to figure it all out. “I definitely think she knows you’re a dog person Yoongi.”

He smiled defensively down at her, “I like cats too, just because I have a dog. I promise I’m not entirely a dog person, and I don’t hate you.”

“She thinks you do,” you teased, “you’re definitely going to have to remove all traces of Holly when you come over if you want her to like you.”

“Or I could just help her to love Holly like you do.”

Hoseok:

The eyes of your cat had been bothering him for much of the evening, eventually giving in and looking across at you. “Does he stare like this at everyone?”

Your eyes glanced to your cat to see him firmly looking in Hoseok’s direction, “far from it, he’d usually be straight over for a cuddle by now.”

“He definitely doesn’t want a cuddle from me,” Hobi smiled, “he looks as if he wants to come over here and kill me.”

“He’s not that bad,” you argued, “he’s just getting to know you better.”

“His eyes are creeping me out Y/N.”

Your head shook at his dramatics, “you’ve only been here a few times, he’s just getting to know who you are and keep a close eye on you.”

Hobi scoffed, trying to outstare him, “it’s like he’s territorial of you or something, I’m scared to go near you in case I get scratched.”

“You won’t get scratched,” you assured him, “but be warned, if you get too close, he’ll come over and let you know this is his house and not yours.”

“I think you’ve just got an evil cat Y/N.”

Namjoon:

The screech of Namjoon that came from Namjoon in the other room instantly caught your attention, racing through to see what happened.

As he held up his hand to show you the scratch mark that ran along it, your cat quickly scampered away. “Are you alright?” You questioned.

“I’ll survive,” he chuckled as you took a hold of his hand, “all I did was go to stroke the top of her head, but she didn’t fancy that.”

“I don’t know why she hates you so much,” you frowned, “you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Cats can be funny animals sometimes, it’s fine.”

Your head shook as you grabbed a tissue to clean up the scratches, “are you sure that you’re alright? It looks like a bit of a store one.”

Namjoon nodded back at you with a soft smile, “I’ve been hurt a lot worse than a cat scratch before, it’s just another injury to add to the list.”

“I’ll clean you up,” you assured him, “you need to make sure that it heals properly still otherwise I reckon your management might just kill me.”

“I’ll make up some sort of excuse, don’t worry.”

Jimin:

As always when he walked into your home, his eyes instantly fell to your cat who always arrived at the front door when someone came in. “Are you going to be nice today?”

Jimin knelt down to greet him, only for your cat to instantly turn around and walk back into the living room. “I think the answer to your question is no.”

“All I did was say hello,” Jimin chuckled as he took off his shoes and coat, “he really doesn’t like me, does he know about me?”

“He must know that you’ve come to steal me away from him,” you joked.

“He’d beat me before I could steal you.”

Your eyes rolled, pushing lightly at his arm, “he’s not as bad as you think he is, he just takes some time to warm to new people around.”

Jimin’s head shook, still yet to be convinced by the animal in the other room. “I’ve been around here plenty of times, I just think he hates you.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” you tried to argue for him, “I’d just say for now he strongly dislikes you, but I’m sure that that’ll change.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you.”

Taehyung:

You watched on as Taehyung placed the bowl of food down for your cat. “Here you go,” he smiled as your cat approached the bowl and started sniffing around.

However, rather than tuck in like he normally did, he turned around and walked away from the bowl. “Maybe he’s just not hungry right now.”

“Or he knows that I put it down,” Taehyung argued, picking the bowl up and handing it to you, “see what happens if you put it down.”

“Do you really think that’ll make a difference?” You sighed, “he’s just not hungry.”

“Try, and let’s just see.”

You walked over and placed the bowl down, only for your cat to walk straight back over and start tucking into the food that you’d placed down for him.

Taehyung stared back across at you, “I told you, it’s because I did it. I don’t know what I’ve done but I think your cat might hate me.”

“Maybe you have got a bit of a point,” you admitted, “but I’m sure we can do something to try and make him like you a little bit more.”

“I don’t think he’ll ever like me Y/N.”

Jungkook:

His hand tapped the bed as your cat jumped up, watching Jungkook’s hand, only to walk onto your side of the bed and curl up beside you instead. “He doesn’t want me.”

You sighed as your eyes looked across at Jungkook, “he’s just used to me being in the bed with him, that’s why he’s come over here with me.”

“I reckon it’s just because he doesn’t like me,” Jungkook stated, “he always avoids me whenever you’re around him.”

“That’s because I’m his mum,” you pointed out, “he knows me better than you.”

“And he likes you as well.”

Your eyes rolled as Jungkook continued to protest, “I’m sure that he likes you, but he would much rather be where he’s comfortable at night.”

Jungkook’s eyes watched as your cat curled up right beside you, “one day he’ll change his mind and come and lay with me, it’ll be a miracle.”

“When he’s more comfortable with you, he will,” you assured him, stroking the top of your cat’s head, “relationships with pets take time.”

“And this pet is taking a whole load of time.”

---

Masterlist

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ladykissingfish · 3 years

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Driving with the Akatsuki

Itachi

Driving with this guy is ... nerve-wracking, to say the very least. It’s not as though he’s a reckless automobile operator; he observes all the laws of traffic, the radio is at a reasonable volume ((he’s the type to listen to podcasts rather than music)), he follows the speed limits, he actually slows down at a yellow light — but it’s the near-misses that are daunting. The just barely stopping in time before hitting the old lady crossing the street. The running up on the curb while parking. And then there was that incident with the tree — Itachi legally has to wear glasses when driving, but his passengers often wonder whether the glasses actually HELP him. Even with them on, he squints A LOT. And only someone with nerves of absolute steel, like Kisame or Kakuzu, will be in a car with him at night. However he is with driving, one thing he’s not blind in, is his car’s cleanliness. Will make passengers wipe feet before getting in, and after everyone is gone he’ll carefully scour the seats to remove even the faintest trace of lint or gum wrappers or any disturbance at all. Can be a bit of a “mom” driver; a holdover from his teenage years of constantly having to chauffeur around his younger brother and his brother’s rambunctious friends.

Kakuzu

Anyone getting into a vehicle with Kakuzu is in for a surprise. 91 years old? Surely he drives slow and steady, like a typical little old man, right? WRONG. Kakuzu is a goddamn speed-demon. He barrels down streets, he flies through intersections. Not many know this about him, but he was very much into drag-racing as a (much) young(er) man, and his current proclivity for quickness is a holdover from those days. Luck always seems to be on his side, as he’s gotten caught/received speeding tickets far less than he deserves. To make matters scarier, Kakuzu’s radio system has been broken for two years (and of course he’s too cheap to get it fixed), and the back left window doesn’t roll up to the top; so the only sound his passengers will hear is the wind rushing past the glass and Kakuzu’s deep, sinister chuckles as he sees other drivers (and pedestrians) scramble to get out of his way. Also, unless you’re a CLOSE-close friend, don’t expect a ride from him unless you have gas money.

Deidara

In all honesty, the blonde prefers to be the passenger rather than the driver, even in his own car. He gets his best inspirations for future art pieces when he’s traveling around, and it’s hard to pick up a sketch book when you need to be paying attention to the road. When he does have to be behind the wheel himself, he’s a fairly average driver. His passengers are always at risk of a case of auditory whiplash, as Deidara’s (loudly played) music tastes switch from one extreme to the other; and the guy isn’t exactly shy about singing along to his favorites. He’s also one of those eat-on-the-go guys, and his backseat will almost always be buried under a myriad of candy wrappers, empty plastic soda bottles and discarded burger wrappers. In the summer he prefers the wild and free feeling of having all the windows down, rather than turning the AC on, and he’ll have to remember to firmly tie up his long hair and keep it from blowing in his eyes or else everyone in the car will be taking an unscheduled trip into the nearest tree.

Zetsu

His car always has that calm, natural, “special plant” scent to it. The kind of smell that causes a panic when Zetsu sees a police officer anywhere in the area. A very relaxed driver; seat almost all the way back, one hand barely on the steering wheel. Obeys the speed limit but can put the pedal to the metal when in a hurry. Likes to listen to mostly reggae or jazz, and taps his fingers on he dashboard along to the beat. Water-bottle hoarder; has at least 1000 plastic water bottles, in varying staging of fullness, all over the front and back seats. The type to keep driving around the block until the song ends. Also the type to have really deep conversations with his passengers, and drive them out to really far away and scenic locations.

Hidan

If you have somewhere important to go, and need a ride, it’s best not to ask Hidan. He is the sort who always insists he knows a shortcut or a quicker route to every destination ... and ends up hopelessly lost. Can’t read a map to save his life and for some reason won’t trust a car’s gps system to guide him ((has some pretty crazy conspiracy theories about the voice behind the system)). Easily distracted by any and everything (both inside and outside of car), which makes being his passenger a bit daunting. Like Kakuzu, is a very fast driver, but infinitely more cautious as he has a LOT of tickets wracked up and isn’t looking to add more.

Really loves Led Zeppelin and Johnny Cash; has a visor full of those CD’s and will play those rather than listen to the radio. Also has a butt-load of swear word laden and inappropriate humor bumper stickers.

Pein

Who needs a car when motorcycles exist? This guy has a classic hog that he keeps in mint condition, that he rides around wherever he goes. Every year he’ll try and convince his close friends to ditch their boring cars for something more sublime, only to be met sure emphatic No’s each time. Is very protective over his baby and will go ballistic over even the tiniest nick or scrape. Drives at a normal speed when by himself, but will drive just a bit faster when carting around a friend (especially if it’s a female friend). Doesn’t really like to wear a helmet himself but will insist on any passengers putting one on. Prefers the quiet of the open road but if in a musical mood it’s always 80’s hair bands; a lot of Def Leppard, Quiet Riot, Van Halen. Can do a variety of tricks on his bike but doesn’t do them often as he doesn’t like to “mess up” his baby any more than necessary.

Sasori

Absolutely 100% HATES driving. Has massive anxiety anytime he has to get behind the wheel, almost to the point where he’d need to take a sedative just to relax. Drives slower than the slowest driver you can think of. Yellow light? Slow down. Green light? Still slow down. Will drive himself to and from work, but any other time would prefer being a passenger in someone else’s car ((in which case he becomes the worst backseat driver in history)), or simply taking the bus. Doesn’t like giving rides to others but if he must, it’ll be a very tense, silent drive (forget about him turning on the radio and ‘breaking his concentration’), and he’ll freak out if a passenger takes their seatbelt off before the car comes to a complete stop. Also has a hyper-awareness to anything that might possibly be wrong with his car; if that check engine light comes on you can bet he’ll be at the mechanic in a heartbeat. Also the type who feels “uncomfortable” if gas tank is below 3/4 full.

Konan

The type who’s always heading somewhere/running errands, and will ask if you need a ride. Very neat and organized car, and always suspiciously shiny (as if she visits the carwash every other day). Seems to know absolutely everybody; is always waving at or honking to people in other cars. Keeps the radio volume down when she has passengers, but when alone she loves to sing at the top of her lungs to 90’s boy bands (her rendition of I Want It That Way by The Backstreet Boys is American-Idol worthy). Is always prepared for anything, especially in the winter; in her trunk is a shovel, an extra blanket, water bottles and protein bars, even emergency flares. May be pretty and delicate but definitely knows her way around a car; can change a tire or check the oil with the best of them.

Kisame

Has very long legs, so needs a car or truck that provides him ample room to stretch. A very relaxed and mellow driver, always puts whoever’s with him immediately at ease. Doesn’t use air fresheners in his car but inside always smells like whatever his cologne is, which is always yummy. Gets a lot of fast-food but always keeps the bags and wrappers stored neatly in a little garbage bag that he empties out daily. Will let his passengers do pretty much anything in his car EXCEPT smoke; he can’t stand the smell of tobacco. Isn’t really a Point A to Point B driver; will always think of other places to stop or visit en-route to his destination. Big fan of Musical music; his all-time favorite cd is the soundtrack to Grease. Also (when by himself) is a car-emoter; Kisame doesn’t let most people see anything but his cheerful side. Bring alone in his car is the only time he’ll cry, or scream, or express anger regarding events or people.

Obito

The type of driver who very often spaces out and “forgets” that he’s driving. Prefers traveling more with animals than with people; most likely to take his dog on a weeklong broad trip. Has been a smoker since his teenage years but is trying to quit, so in his car is the only place he “allows” himself a cigarette (but only when he’s completely alone). Almost started a fire once when he threw a still-lit cigarette out the window, but it flew into the backseat instead. Drives fairly slow unless he’s in a hurry for something (but even then his foot doesn’t press the gas pedal THAT much harder). His musical tastes depend on his mood but whatever he ends up listening to is always car-shakingly loud. Seems to have a new (and interesting) trinket hanging from his rear-view mirror every week. The kind who drives around for several days with his gas tank close to/touching on E because ”he knows his car, it’s fine”.

#the akatsuki #driving #vroom vroom #deidara #sasori #obito uchiha #itachi uchiha #zetsu #pein #konan #kakuzu #kisame #hidan

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joezworld · 3 years

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Any headcanons about Ever Ace and the other new A-class Evergreen ships? This totally isn’t just because I love your version of Ever Given and want more of her and her family XD

The following is an excerpt from How to Avoid Huge Ships, Or: I Never Met a Ship I Liked by Capt. John W. Trimmer (National Writers Press, 1982)

Chapter 14: The Emotional State of Ships

For most captains, the emotional state of a seagoing vessel (other than your own, of course) is often seen as irrelevant - after all, who cares if the seven hundred foot tanker about to run over you and your ketch is a nice person or not?

However, like many common beliefs in the marine industry, this is an incorrect one. The mental state of vessels is vital to continued safe navigation.

First, we must mention the obvious: An unhappy ship is a dangerous ship. Think about the last time you drove to the store while upset. Now pretend you weighed several thousand tons and required a mile and a half to stop in an emergency. I imagine your car insurance premiums might be a bit higher, no?

Then we must mention Fleets.

Allow me to explain: While this may be seen as a massively reductive statement, most large vessels (and most living machines for that matter, including commercial aircraft, railway locomotives, and even large dragline cranes) are best viewed as pack animals. When left alone to their own devices (and the growing economic benefits of 'machine autonomy' have meant that more shipping lines are allowing ships to go off by themselves!) vessels will often form a "fleet", as they call them, which substitutes for what we humans would call a joint family.

A fleet may include any number of vessels and relationship combinations, ranging from a number of single vessels who consider themselves siblings, to sets of separate married couples, and even groups of non-monogamous vessels whose conduct would make a Mormon blush. That being said, regardless of type, bonds formed in this manner are extremely strong, and will often overcome any difference between vessels - see the growing trend of former US Pacific Fleet vessels and their former Imperial Japanese Navy spouses!

Now, what does any of this have to do with the continued safety of marine navigation, I hear you ask? Well, let me put it to you in the simplest terms possible:

If you were to wrong me in some way, I might decide to take legal action against you, or I might lick my wounds and walk away. I might even go to the police if the offense were serious enough.

If you were to wrong a ship, and the offense were serious enough, they wouldn't lick their wounds, they wouldn't pursue legal action, and they most certainly would not go to the police. Most ships believe quite strongly in the merits of what could be charitably called 'extrajudicial punishment'. Most ships, if they are in such a relationship, would bring this to the attention of their fleet-mates, at which point you would not have one, but several, maybe even a dozen, extremely large and extremely angry ships going after you.

Of course, any discussion of the often-overlooked subject of Fleets is incomplete without at least a brief mention of the US/Canadian Great Lakes Fleet, which has managed to continuously add to their numbers through a process they call 'Lake-napping'...

-----

April, 2021 - Great Bitter Lake, Suez, Egypt

The Egyptians were insane, Given concluded. Aside from the obvious - where in the name of all that floated was she going to get nine hundred million US Dollars? - they'd actually called their Navy on her, like some kind of Triad enforcer making sure a mark didn't get away without paying.

He was a tiny ship, really - some old design that made its priorities clear, judging from his open-air flying bridge and thick hull, but the massive anti-ship missile pods on his aft deck showed he could punch well above his weight.

She'd tried speaking to him, but they didn't have a language in common - and that was impressive all on its own. From the short, clipped sentences, and badly accented Arabic, he seemed both Eastern European and decidedly unfriendly.

As the sun set on the end of the first week of what might be a very long stay in Egypt, she wondered if the line might abandon her here. The cheap fucks had already been making noise about replacing her with another, bigger ship, but Ace - still in the shipyard, but already proving herself to be just as loud and annoying as any proper 20,000+ TEU ship, bless her - had made enough noise about "not being a rebound date" that their hand had been forced.

Of course, that was all before the Egyptians decided that they wanted nine hundred million dollars, so who knows?

Another ship went by - the backlog still wasn't through, and convoys continued at all hours. This one was one from CMA CGM, and while she couldn't quite catch his name in the dark, she could absolutely catch the scathing French insults being hurled her way as he passed by.

"Je parle français, toi voilier sans hélice." She sniped at him, relishing in the startled yelp that trailed him into the night. The tugboats pulling him along laughed, and he growled at them as he moved further into the lake.

The missile boat looked at her with what might have been admiration, but it didn't stop him from keeping his guns trained on her as he changed his watch position to a spot off of her stern.

She honestly considered running - the mockery she'd get once she left Egypt might be too much.

As the next ship in line approached, she got a ping on one of the company radio frequencies.

Tuning in, her brow furrowed in confusion - now that everyone had satellite internet downlinks, internet chatrooms had become the primary communication method across the fleet. Evergreen Lines ships had all gravitated towards Discord instead of WeChat or Line, but their server had been strangely silent for most of the last week.

Opening the channel, she caught a flash of a call sign - What was Elpida doing out here? Wasn't she on the Australia run?

"Don't say a word, we've got it under control."

"You what? Who's we?"

Elpida swept past , literally - she was breaking the speed limit for this part of the lake, and had probably been doing so in the Canal too - the ropes to her tugs were taut, and judging by the Arabic screaming, they were trying to get her to slow down or at least let go. She was high in the water - her decks empty of containers - what the hell was going on?

Given was too big for the swells to affect her, but the Egyptian Navy ship wasn't, and he yelped in whatever his native language was as he rocked and rolled in Elpida's wake.

Behind her, a distant cry that sounded suspiciously like the word "Now!" rang out, followed by a deafening cacophony of foghorns.

She'd shut down her radar - because what really was the point? - and it took a worrying few seconds for the Furuno system to spin to life and return a clear result.

Or... what might be a clear result.

All hell seemed to be breaking out behind her - the convoy had broken formation and was going in what seemed like every direction possible. At least ten ships were now going berserk behind her.

The Navy ship, by far the smallest vessel out there, (except the tugs, who were fleeing for their lives, it seemed) spun around towards the main shipping lane.

Collision alarms immediately started wailing on the Canal's common channel as a very large blip on the radar screen (Who turned off their AIS transponders in the Canal?) slowly swung towards him.

The Egyptian seemed stunned for a moment - he'd drifted back into Given's range of vision, and his expression ranged between sheer horror and mildly poleaxed - before he calmed himself and stood down the ship bearing down on him.

That calm look lasted for a few minutes, but as the blip got closer and closer his confidence faded. The doors to his missile pods swung open, but his nerve broke before he could fire them, and the water around his stern frothed up into a roiling tempest as he set off at full astern.

It wasn't enough. He'd held his ground for just long enough for the other ship to reach him.

Slowly - this whole event was playing out in breathless slow motion, because nobody was actually that speedy - a bulbous bow, riding high out of the water without a load of containers, ploughed towards him. It was followed by a bowsprit, one that was so huge it looked like it could have been Given's own.

Then came the name: EVER ACE.

Then came the collision.

Ace (?!) didn't so much collide with the Egyptian ship as she drove over him. His low freeboard meant that the impact with her bulbous bow had his far side dipping into the water. Once his deck hit the swells, it acted like a giant scoop, and his keel was to the night sky within a few seconds. He'd been hit at an angle, so once he'd been pushed free, he slowly rolled back up, a much more traumatized and injured vessel than he had been a minute ago. More importantly, the water gushing out of his missile tubes meant that he was no longer a problem.

"Hey!" Ace boomed as her pilothouse drew even with Given. "Best Sea Trials Ever!"

Behind her, another ship - this one laden and looking a lot like Golden - steamed by. "Stop hanging around and get her out of here!"

"That would be my cue." Another voice called from behind her.

"Tex?" He was in Manila!

"Who else would it be?" Texas Triumph, thick Texan accent and all, steamed up. "now let's jus' get you settled up here and we'll blow this joint."

"This is a rescue?!"

"For sure pardner! We've been planning this since those highwaymen said they was keepin' ya here."

"Stop talking and get her out of here!" Golden bellowed from further up the river. It seemed like she was now intimidating some other tugboats from intervening.

"Well, ya heard 'er." Tex said. "Les' go!"

Given had been so distracted by the appearance of so many members of her family that she hadn't even noticed Tex slipping lines through her hawseholes until they went taut and she was yanked from her moorings by Tex steaming out in pursuit of Ace's retreating form.

She just barely managed to get her anchors retracted before Tex really put some power on, and began to pull her across the lake entirely.

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

Later...

The War Zone

Ever Given Escapes Custody Suez Canal Authority claims no responsibility, Egyptian Navy vessel possibly damaged. BY TYLER ROGOWAY April 17, 2021 THE WAR ZONE

📷@mahmou10_ships VIA @SUEZWATCH_EGY

SHARE TYLER ROGOWAY View Tyler Rogoway's Articles @Aviation_Intel Details remain limited at this time, but there was an incident in the Great Bitter Lake. At least one Egyptian Navy vessel has been severely damaged, and MV Ever Given, who had been held in the Great Bitter Lake by the Suez Canal Authority, has now fled the Canal into the Mediterranean Sea.

Again, details are extremely limited, but based on social media reports, marine tracking data, and radio reports, at approximately 11:47 PM Egypt Standard Time (EGY) a disturbance was reported by the Egyptian Navy craft - their identity is still unconfirmed, but images posted to social media seem to indicate that the vessel is a former Soviet Osa-class missile craft. The vessel reported that "A convoy has gone mad" and he was "under attack from multiple vessels".

While a convoy had transited the canal at that time, it is unclear if they were involved in the attack, or if one occurred at all.

We've reached out to Evergreen Lines, The Suez Canal Authority, the Egyptian Navy, and the individual ships believed to be involved, including Ever Given.

We will update this piece as more information comes available.

Contact the author: [email protected]

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#fic #ask response #ever given #the evergreen discord chat is going buck wild with this article #background info #sentient boats #sentient boat headcanon #sentient vehicle headcanon #having sentient boats messes with so many historical events #sentient vehicles

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the-silentium · 4 years

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Folded messages

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 4900 words

Warnings: TUA season 1 and 2 spoilers, swearing.

Requested by: Anon

Hello!! I just recently read you 11 Five fic and I have to say it was incredible. I have no words to describe it, your writing is so good💖💖 with that, I was wondering if you did fics based on songs, if you do, would you mind doing a 5xreader based on “sway with me” by Micheal Buble? Idk what the plot could be, maybe they are in a mission from commission and have to go to a fancy ballroom. Maybe they are enemies. Maybe reader pulls him to dance around S2. The choices are endless, go crazy :”)

A/N: Finally I found time to write! I've had insomnia for too long because I couldn't write! Damn day job!

On a better note, I really hope you guys like this little piece of fluff 💜 I swear, this started as a small idea and then it just got bigger and bigger. Sorry not sorry!

Was it even possible? The prospect of falling in love for someone of his nature was almost as high as his targets' survival rate. He wasn't an emotional man, his feelings were deeply buried in the depth of his heavily guarded heart, locked away in a three inches thick chest that was itself hidden in an impossible maze where traumas and demons were furiously protecting the paths.

Add this to the fact that he never saw her, not even once, the only proof of her existence being the small animals made of colorful folded paper that appears in his jacket pockets whenever he crossed her path, the possibilities of developing such feelings were in no way probable. The origami aside, the woman seemingly took pleasure in throwing wrenches into his work. He was asked to assassinate a brilliant inventor who was getting too close to discovering the secrets of time-traveling? It would have been an easy job if it wasn’t that every single bullet he had in his possession suddenly disappeared, forcing him to finish the job with his knife.

There was another time, he was tasked with the termination of a group of people meeting in the back of a bar, his guns were loaded, his knives were sharpened, he was full of juice, there was no way that this job would take more than one minute and forty-three seconds. He made his way to the door leading to the room hosting his targets when he noticed a small dark purple llama on the door handle. He pocketed the folded piece of paper for later and tried the handle to find out that it wouldn't even turn on itself. The assassin rolled his eyes at the futile attempt to keep him from completing his mission, he closed his hands into fists but his ability decided to fail at this right moment.

The door behind him closed on a loud banging noise, a delicate click following closely behind, indicating that the door was locked from the other side. Five remembers it clear as day, the moment he knew he had found his equal. He heard you giggling lightly on the other side of the door and his heart started speeding up. Not in anger, not in annoyance nor in embarrassment. He couldn't say what it was, but he knew for sure that he wanted more of it.

It happened four times, you making his job more challenging and him receiving a small gift before Five decided to do some research. In a box carefully concealed under the double bottom of his drawer were stored every paper animal he found during his missions along with books about origami and colors.

An olive green and lavender cat, a dark blue dragon, an orange fish and a dark purple llama were now aligned on his desk in order of acquisition. The different books were opened on different pages and then Five started his information gathering. He scribbled in his notebook the different significance associated to each color and animal and an hour and a half later, he was contemplating his findings.

The cat was a symbol of independence and mystery among other things. Its olive-green body with the patches of lavender told him that the first gift was, in fact, a peace offering from a feminine person. Her very own olive branch that he took long enough to decipher.

Then there was the dragon, symbol of power, wisdom, mastery and success. The dark shade of blue told him that the dragon was full of knowledge, power and seriousness. He frowned, thinking and slightly hoping that maybe this was how she saw him.

He didn't know what to think of the orange fish. Happiness, freedom and energy. He couldn't relate to this one, having not been free for many years now as stipulated by his contract with the Commission. He was a slave, used for his ability and his will to do everything to survive one more day and save his family from their imminent doom.

Maybe the fish was a reference to yourself. This was the only explanation he could find. You were a young adult from what he deduced of your giggles and were pretty happy and free if the folded paper was anything to go by.

The last gift proved that Five's theory stipulating that every origami was a metaphor about yourself and himself was correct.

A dark purple llama. An animal representing hard work, endurance under difficult situations and responsibility. His heart accelerated at the possibility that you knew that he was trying to buy some time and betray his employer sooner than later. Would you rat him out? He really hoped that the olive cat meant that you were on his side and not against him, he would really hate to put an end to the warm feeling dancing in his chest whenever he realized that you were around and ready to play a trick on him.

Now if he followed your logic, the next one he will receive will say more about yourself and he couldn't wait to be assigned to another mission so that he had a chance to learn more about you or even possibly see you. You, his little time traveler. Five had thought about this for the longest of time and he came to the conclusion that you were indeed a time traveler. The Commission kept very close control over their briefcase so there was no way that you had one in your possession, he would know, after all, he checked the lost briefcases records and they were all reported destroyed.

To his dismay, his next mission was uneventful. He got in and got out. No hiccup, no paper animal. Nothing. It went like this for his next six missions and with every passing success, Five found himself getting irritated. Every night he found himself chasing your shadow in his dreams and every time you managed to evade his attempts at catching you. One morning when even his first coffee of the day wasn't enough to ease his frustration, he thought of a plan that would allow him to finally see you.

To avoid making his kills personal, Five always prioritized a long-range way to kill, meaning with guns. Guns had a way to remove all responsibilities off his shoulder and lighten his soul at the end of the day. He had enough demons consuming more and more of his conscience on a daily basis, he definitely could do without this kind of remorse. Sure, he was the one who pulled the trigger, but ultimately, it was the bullet that killed the target, not his hands.

But tonight, Five decided that he would complete his mission with the idea that you were around. If you were, then he would finally meet you. If not, he would need something strong to accompany his coffee. Whiskey maybe.

He abandoned his prized sniper in the deserted building next to the one his target was currently dancing in and made his way to a back door. There he space-jumped inside the building and quickly blended himself with the crowd. He found himself straightening his suit in the case you were around and made his way to the bar.

A glass of whiskey in hand, Five turned his back to the counter and analyzed the crowd in search of his wealthy bastard who was enjoying his very last evening on this Earth. There he was, dancing around, totally unconcerned of the people around him.

Unconsciously, Five reached into his pockets where the gifts usually appeared out of thin air, his fingers searching around as they did a hundred times before but ultimately finding nothing. With a frustrated groan, Five grabbed his glass, emptied its content in one gulp, smashed the glass back on the counter and pushed his way to his target. Another night without your little schemes meaning another night chasing your shadow in his sleep. If this was how the night would unfold, then he wanted to finish this quickly.

Five's hand reached for his target, grabbed a hold of his upper arm and pulled him in a nearby hallway before jumping the both of them in the nearby abandoned building where his weapons were patiently waiting for him.

Five turned around to face his target, knife in hand and ready to strike when his breath caught in his throat and every muscle in his body contracted, stopping every movement. Where his prey stood mere milliseconds ago was now an elegant woman in a beautiful gown, all smile and giggling at his reaction. He knew it was you the second he heard your giggles, causing his heart to skip a beat and his fingers to let go of the sharp weapon.

He stopped himself from moving a stray strand of hair behind your ear, instead choosing to release his grip on your arm and take a step away. You were too beautiful, so much more beautiful than what he imagined, with your shining eyes, your soft-looking hair, your perfectly curved body, he tried to burn every detail into his memory.

"Dance with me?" You asked, closing the distance and reaching for his hand. Your movement got him out of his thoughts and everything came back full force. The mischievous glint into your eyes caused a smirk to form on his lips.

"You just want to keep me from my job." And you were doing a magnificent job at it.

"Is it working?" You batted your eyelashes in an innocent way, making Five roll his eyes before he positioned your hands correctly and pull your body so that you were almost touching each other.

You smiled in satisfaction, following his steps flawlessly on a tempo only he could hear. The blue-eyed man enjoyed the silent minute, savoring the feeling of your soft skin cradled into his palm and the warmth of your waist radiating through the fabric under his opposite hand. The comfortable silence was soon replaced by a soft song playing in the background, stopping Five in his tracks and almost causing you to fall if it wasn’t for his strong arms keeping you up and close.

Five eyes finally left your face and widened at the new scenery surrounding him. The once dusty floor was now pristine and exempt of all the trash and needles that were once lingering around, the tagged walls were perfectly painted in a new shade of light grey, giving the room a nice glow under the gleam of the light strings hanging from the ceiling.

Five didn’t know his mouth had opened in awe before you chuckled and your hand left his shoulder to caress his chin, effectively causing him to close it.

"I take it that you like it?" Your eyes were shining under the soft lights and the pride he saw in them almost got a smile out of him.

"You made this?" He was still stunned about the complete makeover of the room. Even the lingering moldy smell disappeared, letting a pleasant smell floating around in its place.

"You’re not the first one the Commission took a liking to, ya know. I’m kinda like an illusionist, but my stuff is the real deal. They saw my potential and offered me a job, which I refused and they’ve been on my tail ever since." You shrugged, replacing your hand at its rightful place on his shoulder.

Five was truly amazed by the woman standing in front of him. Her ability had so many possibilities and she managed to escape the Commission for seemingly a long time. Add this to the fact that she can time-travel and play tricks on the best assassin this planet has ever seen, Five has never been so interested in someone like that before, not even Dolores who has been his everything for many years.

"I can see why they were interested in you." He resumed his dancing, this time following the rhythm of the soft music playing around them. "Having two abilities is pretty rare."

You shook your head, before clarifying. "I only have one. I don't know where you get the second one from." You frowned in confusion, which reflected on his own face.

"But you time-travel." He remembered finding the folded fish in the 1800s, the dragon around the 1950s and today was September 23th, 1987.

"Yeah, the same way as you. With a briefcase." You nodded toward the black briefcase neatly placed near the window. Five only got more and more confused.

"But they were all dest-" He cut himself at your cheeky grin. "You created your very own. Impressive."

"Thank you." You were beaming at that point and Five felt proud that he was the source of your happiness.

The slow song ended but neither of you stopped moving your feet in unison. Five was enjoying himself like never before and he wasn't in a hurry to end it. The corner of his lips quirked upward when he realized that you pressed yourself against him when the song ended, your way of saying that you didn't want this to end either.

You silently danced the second song in its entirety, living every second like everything would disappear at any moment. Five was scared that this was a one night deal and that he would never see you again. Why did you reveal yourself tonight of any other night?

Before he gathered the courage to ask you, the song reached its end and a completely different kind of music floated in the air.

When marimba rhythms start to play

Dance with me, make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more

Five pulled away slightly, not much, only to be able to see the sheepish smile on your lips. "I love this song." Was your only answer to his frowned brows.

Five laughed softly before stepping away and made you spin. He pulled you back to him, your melodious laugh bouncing around him like the greatest melody ever written.

Like a flower bending in the breeze

Bend with me, sway with ease

When we dance you have a way with me

Stay with me, sway with me

It was clear that neither of you knew how to dance on this song, but you didn't care. You were both moving around freely, Five making you spin from time to time.

Other dancers may be on the floor

Dear, but my eyes will see only you

Only you have that magic technique

When we sway I go weak

Five's heart was beating quickly, not because of the physical exercise, he was trained to accomplish way more than dancing without breaking a sweat, but because the sight of your delighted face stroked something deep within himself. A primal need. The need of a life partner. Someone who he could trust blindly and love without holding back.

I can hear the sounds of violins

Long before it begins

Make me thrill as only you know how

Sway me smooth, sway me now

A too-quick step made you trip on your own feet, in an attempt to keep you on your feet Five reached for your arms but it was already too late. Instead of helping, Five only unbalanced you more leading you to fall to the ground and drag the man with you. Thanks to his sharp reflexes, Five caught himself on his forearms before he crushed your small form under his larger one.

When marimba rhythms start to play

Dance with me, make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more

For a moment the assassin's heart stopped in fear. He hasn't felt afraid in years and it definitely wasn't a feeling he had missed. Your laugh flicked a switch in his heart, making it beat again in an erratic rhythm that he was almost embarrassed of. He guessed that if feeling that good meant that sometimes he was going to be afraid, it wasn't a big deal. He could deal with his fears if at the end of the day you were fine and happy in his arms.

Like a flower bending in the breeze

Bend with me, sway with ease

When we dance you have a way with me

Stay with me, sway with me

"I'm so sorry Five!" You managed to say after catching your breath. Tears rolled from your eyes and into your hair, the reflection of the lights above creating stars in your eyes.

"It's fine." Was all he could say, for his brain had stopped working when he realized that only a couple of centimeters separated the two of you. His body started heating up to his dismay, Five pushed on his arms and sit on his heels to help you sit up.

When marimba rhythms start to play

Hold me close, make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more

"Thanks." You muttered while passing a hand through your messy hair.

The sound of a metallic object falling on the ground made you jump. Five frowned, confused as to why the Commission would send him another assignment right now and not wait until his return.

"What was that?" You whispered.

"My employer." He was beyond annoyed by the interruption. They couldn't have chosen a worse time than tonight.

Offering you a helping hand, Five got up and helped you when your hand closed on his. He couldn't stop himself, he enlaced his fingers through yours, the tightness of your grip made him chuckle.

"Don't worry, they are not here." He lightly hit the wall near the window with the underside of his fist, searching for a spot on the wall that wasn't hollow. When he found it, he searched for the dissimulated door and took the canister with his name written on it.

Releasing your hand, Five opened the canister, took the folded paper and read the words. Terminate Y/N L/N. How was he supposed to terminate someone he didn't even know? This job was so frustrating! He folded back the paper, storing it in his pants pocket. This would have to wait. He turned back to you and the sight bring a genuine smile to his lips.

You were smiling at something outside the window, the light of the moon joined to the string lights gave you an angelic glow. He would have loved to contemplate you longer, but duty called and he now had two targets instead of one.

"I have to go." He didn't dare say it too loud, maybe time would stop and let him live this perfect night for all eternity.

You turned around with a small smile on your lips. He could see that you were disappointed even though you nodded like it was nothing. "Well, tonight couldn't go on forever." You walked up to him, with each one of your steps Five felt himself growing weak in the knees. Oh how he didn't want to go. "It's fine. I'll find you again." At that, you tenderly reached for his cheek while your lips pressed a delicate kiss on the other one, stealing his breath.

You giggled, surely at the blush covering his cheeks and walked away, the illusion fading along with your steps. Just as you were about to walk down the stairs, Five remembered something.

"Wait! I didn't get your name!" He quickly space-jumped in front of you to block your path.

"Y/N L/N." Her smile dropped when a dark expression fell on his face. Even if he tried, he couldn’t have repressed it, the surprise and the anger were too much.

"You have to leave." He didn’t know how they found her, he always made sure he didn’t have any bug on himself before going on a mission.

"N-not that I wasn’t doing that anyway, but w-why the long face?" His fingers twitched at the waver in your voice. It wasn’t his intention to scare you, even less to scare you off.

"The Commission knows you’re here. I don't know how, but they know." Five was starting to get tired of them pretty quickly. Maybe one day he would get out of there with explosions resonating through the hallways. Maybe he could use grenades. Yeah, grenades were good.

You started to walk down the stairs when you stopped and turned to him, one last time. "Be careful."

Five smirked although your concern was touching. "I should be the one telling you that."

With one last giggle, you walked out of his sight. Five returned to his very first task of the night, took place at his spot by the window and finished the initial job.

Back at the Commission that night, Five removed his jacket, eager to go to bed and find himself dancing in your arms again to the sound of soft slow music. A sound caught his attention when he threw his jacket on the back of his chair, the sound of crumbling paper.

His hands searched his pocket, grabbing the grey fox that somehow found its way into his jacket without him noticing. A smile stretched his lips before he carefully slipped the fox under his pillow and went to bed.

A whole year passed before the next animal appeared in his pocket. As frustrated as he was of being away from you for a whole year, Five knew why this was necessary. The Commission was close on your tail. Apparently, he wasn't the only agent tasked of your termination and some got lucky enough to find your location but not enough to hurt you.

The whole year he kept tabs on the Commission's information on you and kept worrying that someday he would find a red stamp crossing out your picture. As of today, his worst nightmare hasn't yet come true, so he pushed his worry aside and continued his job.

He assembled his sniper, preparing himself to kill the president of the United States in 1963 when something hit him in the head. It didn't hurt or anything, it was light as a leaf. Frowning, Five pulled away from the scope of his weapon to discover a brown frog made of folded paper lying on the ground next to his feet.

Receiving one of your signature gift after all that time caused his heart to skyrocket in his chest. All those feelings he had repressed, fearing that one day you would be gone for good and that he would definitely be alone in this cruel world, came rushing back at full speed, making him drop his gun and look around for you.

You weren't far, waving at him with a tired smile on your face, dark shadows marking the underside of your eyes. He didn't take the time to run, simply jumping to you and engulfing your body into his arms.

Many times he thought about how much he had fallen for you after only one dancing night and five tricks followed by origamis. If it were someone else, he would have told them that they were being stupidly influenced by their primal urges that forced them to find a partner and procreate, for this was the circle of life since the dawn of time. In his case, he knew it was much more than that. It was more important to him than a need to procreate. He had found his equal, someone that sparked an insatiable interest in him and showed him that there was way more in this life than what he originally knew.

Five tensed as soon as he heard the first sobs. Immediately he started to scan your body for wounds or blood, anything to show that you were hurt. However, his analysis was cut short by both your hands cradling his cheeks.

"I'm fine. I'm just real' tired and I'm so happy to see you." Your arms wrapped around his neck forcing Five to hug your body closer. Not that he minded.

He whispered words of reassurance into your hair while thinking of what to do next. You couldn't keep fleeing the Commission alone, not in your state. They would catch up to you in no time and he couldn't have that. He couldn't say that he killed you to get them off your back, the higher-ups would request physical proof of your death. It only left him with his last resort. He would have liked to find the good variable, but time was against him so he would have to deal with it.

"I have a plan, don't worry." He dried her tears with his thumb when she lifted her head to look into his eyes. "I'll get us out of here."

You managed a smile before chuckling. "I know. Why do you think I gave you a brown frog? A frog to ensure a safe return of your journey and brown for home."

Five shook his head, once again amazed at how perfectly you could read him despite everyone else describing him as unpredictable.

He grabbed your hands in his, mentally reciting the equation he passed the last 45 years developing. Before the portal appeared, Five stopped everything in a hurry, scaring the shit out of you. He let go of your hands for two seconds, enough time for him to run back at his sniper, grab the brown frog and run back at you. You rolled your eyes when he secured the frog in his jacket pocket, quickly saying that it has sentimental value, before concentrating on the portal again.

The blue vortex appeared, its power pushing them away. It took every ounce of strength into Five's body to pull you with him through the portal, your weakened state left you helpless in front of the blue resistance.

Five did his best to catch you during the fall, your body falling directly on top of his, stealing his breath for a moment.

You managed to roll off of him, allowing him to take a nice bowl of air to fill his lungs. He made it. You weren't 100% safe, but he could have help now. He cou-

"Five." The worry in your voice along with your hand closing tightly on his forearm pushed him to sit up quickly and find the source of the danger. He understood your reaction when his eyes fell on his siblings who looked like hell.

"You guys didn't change one bit." He deadpanned. His usual unimpressed face was back in service at the gaping fish-like faces of his siblings.

"We should be the one telling you that. You haven't aged at all!" Klaus yelled, his outstretched arms moving up and down in his direction.

Confused, Five glanced at his body and realization hit him like a brick. He knew something wasn't right!

Your repressed giggles caught his attention, he found your 13 years old body, a hand on your mouth desperately trying to keep a full-on laugh in. He couldn't help but notice how much more tired you looked in your younger self.

"It's not funny." Was all he said before he spacial-jumped the two of you to his old bedroom. There he guided you to the bed where he helped you get under the covers and watched you get comfortable.

"It is funny." Five scoffed and went to the door, knowing his siblings were gathered behind it and very probably listening to their conversation. He hit the door with his foot and as expected, Klaus yelled in pain, complaining about his hurting ear.

"I'll be downstairs to talk in a few minutes so get lost." He told them through the door. He was awarded by some angry muttering and finally, fading footsteps.

He walked back to your side when he was sure that everyone went on their merry way, sitting on the nearby chair with your hand in his.

"You need to rest. You'll be safe here." He kissed your hand at your tired smile. "I'll stay until you fall asleep, that okay?" You nodded, already your eyelids seemed pretty heavy.

"I missed you Five."

You were out in less than two minutes, your breathing became deeper and slower, your facial muscles relaxed and your mouth opened slightly allowing Five to hear your even respiration.

The boy didn't notice exactly when it happened, but the demons were now silent and the traumas shrank in size, forming a clear path toward the center of the maze that was his heart. There, the three inches thick chest that was protecting his feelings was now wide open, strings were delicately wrapped around them, not too tight as to not suffocate them, but with just enough contact so that he could permanently feel her affection enveloping him.

"I missed you too."

[A/N] This passed SO close to having an angsty ending! So close! I figured you guys had enough angst with 11 already… and the part 2 that's coming next.

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #number five x reader #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #the boy #tua #tua s1 #tua s2 #the umbrella academy

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redhawtriot · 4 years

Text

Caught in the Act: You and I (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

Hiiii bbys

Back by popular demand: The Sequel to Caught in the Act!

This story shifts perspective like a mother fucker so take some pepto-bismal and enjoy the ride.

PS: You and I both have the same name

HnM 💕

What… just happened? You turned back around to face the door and placed your hand on the knob. You let it sit for a moment before you slowly retracted it, cursing under your breath. His soft, sad smile replayed in your mind over and over again as you stared at the handle—each run through of the scene causing you to fall deeper into uncertainty.

You had never seen him smile like that before. You had, of course, recently been exposed to a new, vulnerable side of him—raging and begging like a caged animal as you struggled to separate yourself from him, yet you had never seen him accept his defeat so solemnly. Actually, you had never seen him accept defeat in general.

Your face settled into a hard expression.

Was he really going to be okay? Did he finally crack after everything? Maybe you should turn back around, just to make—

“Y/N!”

You jumped at the sudden voice before a set of familiar, firm hands were pat down on your shoulders, “Sorry! I am so sorry!” It was only Kirishima. You relaxed from your tense stance as he continued, “I didn’t know Bakugou had left the hospital, I swear! I would have never sent you here!” You whipped your head toward Kirishima’s frantic expression as he profusely apologized, clasping his hands together and praying for your forgiveness. His sudden appearance sent a jolt of realization into your being: Katsuki cheated on you—that’s why you left him.

That’s why he was feeling the way that he was now-- why you were feeling the terrible way you were now.

No matter how much you wanted to make sure that he was okay, you needed to give yourself that pleasure first. You owed yourself at least that much after dealing with his bull shit for the past months.

You shook Kirishima off of your shoulders, startling him slightly; however, you sent him a reassuring smile, “You have to take care of him...” you didn’t mean for your voice to break toward the end of you sentence.

“W-what?”

“I…” You cleared your burning throat in an attempt to save your voice from cracking again, “I can’t-- won’t take care of him anymore, so I need you to, okay?”

“O-okay. Well—uh. I-uh… I was not expecting that,” he nervously laughed—breaking himself off mid-chuckle to search your eyes for any distress signals, “You okay?” He had an eyebrow raised.

“I’ll be okay. Thank you so much Kiri,” You once again smiled at him before you made your way to your car.

“N-no problem, I guess… You are really not okay right? I feel like that is what I am gathering from this situation,” his eyes continued to dance across your expression in an analytical matter.

“Don’t worry about me. You’ll have…” you signed a load of air that you hadn’t even realized had been stored within your heavy chest, “...a lot on your plate,” you finished before turning around to walk towards where you had left your car.

You could only manage a few heavy trundles before you felt strong arms wrap around you, “You’re solid, Y/N. I am so sorry you had to go through this, but if anyone can handle it, its you,” he whispered into your hair before placing a light, friendly kiss on your forehead, “Love you,” he bid his farewell as he pulled himself from you.

Kirishima watched as you made your way to your car to make sure you made it safely since it had grown dark outside. He noticed the tired way that your shoulders drooped as you walked. The dense man was never thought to be the most perceptive of the bunch—he knew this, but he swore that somewhere within your somber stance, was a hint of relief. It was as if your drooping form was due to a sudden weight being lifted off of you. You were only contoured to the emotional baggage that had weighted you down and soon, like the resilient, wonderful woman you were, you’d eventually mold back into yourself.

Kirishima felt the corners of his lips tug into a warm-hearted smile as he watched your car pull off—exchanging one more wave to you before you left.

It was bitter-sweet for sure. After all, who knows when the next time he’ll see you will be?

Never mind that though; He’s got another buddy to worry about right now. The man’s red eyes uneasily shifted to he front door of his crisp, worn down apartment, wherein he knew a train wreck resided.

Would Bakugou even listen to him after all that they had been through that day: the tree villain, the argument, the fire?

‘That night, you told me that you didn’t want her to leave us. There is no us, you delusional bastard. It is me and her.’ Bakugou’s words rang in Kirishima’s ears worse than any one of his explosions had ever managed to. Obviously, there was still some unresolved issues between them, so what chance would he have in being the comforting friend that Bakugou needed in that moment?

Kirshima suddenly shook his head in a crude attempt to get rid of the swarm of doubt infesting his mind, and pushed his chest out strongly as a man should,

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered under his breath as he opened the door to the home, “Bakugou?! Bro? You in here?” He knew very well that he was, but it felt right to give him some sort of alert to his presence. He read that about feral bears once when he used to hike with Bakugou a lot. It seems as if it could apply in this situation a well he guessed…

“Come get your crap,” the sudden rough voice shook Kirishima out of his his wandering thoughts. He looked up to see Bakugou holding a large plastic crate, “I only brought two bins, so make sure not to pack like a dumbass.”

“Huh?” Kirishima was expecting him to be much more of a... mess. The dull shine that your hazy eyes had held a few minutes ago was very similar to those of shell shocked veterans, yet this scene in front of him was far from war-- actually pretty domestic for Bakugou standards.

Bakugou’s expression hardened as he slammed the crate down in front of Kirishima. It sounded with a loud clang as he spoke up once more, his pressing voice just as booming, “We are going to Racoon Eye’s aren’t we, dumbass??”

“Uh-- right, yeah!” Kirishima found himself being distracted by a glint of something else in Bakugou’s angry expression, “You’re… okay with that now?” he questioned as he moved around the apartment, searching for salvageable items to bring with him.

Mina was the first and only one of their friends to come visit them at the hospital that evening, only because they were hospitalized for just a few hours and she was so close by.

She obviously offered to house her two friends until they got back on their feet since she had plenty of room in her duplex; however, before she could even get the words completely out of her mouth Bakugou had already begun protesting with “I don’t fucking need your help,” and “I’d rather live on the street than live in your garbage can house, Racoon eyes!”

The explosive man was now singing a different tune, “Well it’s not like I have much of a fucking choice now do I?” The blond man currently grumbled to himself as the two packed up their belongings.

Kirishima simply shrugged in return-- a slight smile on his face. Bakugou seemed to be doing much better than he was when he left the hospital. Maybe he was afraid for him for no reason.

The two men continued packing as a thick sheet of uncomfortable silence engulfed them. Kirishima didn’t mind though. He would much rather have this than have Bakugou explode the apartment again. Besides, the two were soon enough, finished packing up and Bakugou went to go “take a piss” one more time before they departed for Mina’s apartment.

As Kirishima placed his final item in his bin, a sudden gleam from Bakugou’s crate caught his attention. It was honestly nothing too vibrant or spectacular, yet something inside of the man told him to go investigate it. He shuffled the tightly packed items a little to uncover more of the object and turned it slightly to its side to unvcover its shattered face when suddenly—

“Don’t fucking touch that!” Bakugou roared, snatching Kirishim’a arm and tossing it away from the bin, but it was too late-- Kirishima’s eyes told that he had already seen what it was.

“That was the sports festival picture of you and Y/N from high school…” Kirishima reported with a concerned expression.

“I know what the hell it is, you idiot,” he gruffly replied as he snatched up his bin and began marching toward the exit.

Kirishima hurriedly grabbed his own and followed Bakugou’s actions, “I... saw her leave when I came in,” he wasn’t sure how to start this conversation, but this seemed neutral enough. And it actually piqued the blond’s interest.

His eyebrows slightly furrowed in surprise. Kirishima hadn’t come in for a long while after you had walked out of the door. Were you really waiting out there for such a long time? What the hell did that mean?

“She looked a little upset, but not like usual.” well recently. Kirishima could only internally add that, “You got the closure you needed, didn’t you.”

“Are you gonna just run your goddamn mouth all damn night??” Bakugou suddenly snapped, but upon seeing his friend’s worried expression a pit of guilt settled deep within his stomach. An awkward air of silence filed in between the two friends once more as a big Taxi van pulled up in front of them. Bakugou blew out a gust of hair as a pout rested on his face.

He would never say this out loud but maybe he would apply his new found methods of care to his best friend as he had planned to with you. It was no secret that Kirishima had pretty much been the only thing holding him together for the past few months, and he honestly didn't deserve all of the thrashing that Bakugou dished out toward him-- no matter how thick his skin was.

The blond didn’t know what he would do if Kirishima left him alone like you had.

“I kissed her... I kissed her a lot actually,” Bakugou grumbled under his breath. Kirishima’s jaw dropped in shock as Bakugou continued, “It felt like good bye, but also really good,” His cheeks crept into a slight blush at the recollection of how amazing your body had felt on top of his. He shook this light feeling away as the Taxi trunk lifted open, “So it can only mean goodbye for now. I’ll get her back one day—if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll have her be my wife,” Bakugou knew that he wasn’t saying this fully because he believed it, but as Kirishima as his witness, he would be held accountable for his winning or failing. No. Fuck that. For his winning.

Surprisingly, Kirishima ate up Bakugou’s determination and made it his own, “Sounds like a plan,” his eyebrows tensed as his expression folded into a proud smirk, “Just don’t do any thing irrational, these things take time.”

Bakugou grabbed the other man’s bin from him to load it, “Do you think I’m and Idiot or something?! I know that! That’s why I sent her out.”

“Wow…” Kirishima’s heart began swelling up, “That was really manly of you. Mature too! I am proud of you, bro.”

The other man simply rolled his eyes, “You haven’t ever even been in a real relationship, shitty hair. I don’t know what the hell makes you think that you’re better than me at this shit,” A sudden dull pain ripped through Kirishima’s chest at Bakugou’s words. He knew that he hadn’t meant it with more malice than typical, but for some reason, these words had reached him in a sore spot in his heart.

As Bakugou finally finished packing his final objects into the taxi, he slammed the trunk down, snapping Kirishima out of his wandering thoughts. Finally, the two made it back to Mina’s just as the sun had begun to rise again.

They walked up to her apartment, but just as Kirishima raised his hand to knock a loud screeching of metal could be heard from next door. A fumbling voice cursed under her breath before a face peeped out of the other half of the duplex.

“You must be Mina’s new house guests! Sorry for scaring you! This door is stupid loud! It just needs some oil, but honestly, I like to call it my homemade alarm system,” Kirishima gave hearty laugh at the woman’s passing joke, while Bakugou only glared away.

“Yep! We’ll be hanging out for a little while! I’m Eijirou Kirishima!” the red haired man excitedly greeted, “And this is my buddy, Bakugou.”

“Nice to meet you Bakugou—Kirishima,” the way that his name rolled out suddenly made Kirishima’s blood pool into a hot mess near the surface of his cheeks.

I studied the two of their faces and gauged them with my serial killer/freak/pervert radar and found nothing too alarming, “I am her landlord, Y/N,” I continued with a smile as I made my way fully out of the apartment to properly greet them-- eyeing the light shade of pink dusted across the cute one’s expression. I was obviously too infatuated to notice that the other man’s face had crumpled considerably at the mention of my name.

“We didn’t ask,” the ignored man spat instinctively, causing my eyes to sharply snap in his direction. He looked almost hurt. I honestly have seen a lot of hurt men in my day—not because I’m some kind of heartbreaker or anything, but because my apartments are usually dirt cheap. The inevitable divorce that happens with two people are fed up with one another usually sends the male party packing, and guess where the sad saps end up?

My duplex apartments—or some other crappy place like them.

So, what’s this ‘Bakugou’s’ story? I looked to him with an intrigued expression; however, he still hadn’t found the resolve to look me in the face yet.

“Bro! Can you stop that!” Kirishima instantly reprimanded his friend. He was completely embarrassing him in front of the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, “I am so sorry for him! He’s just had a bad day.”

I don’t even entertain that bullshit as I keep my eye’s steadied on the angry, obviously broken man in front of me, “Uh-huh… So anyways,” I finally looked back toward the cute red-head, “Here’s the keys Mina wanted me to give you. She’s got a early shift today so she won’t be around, but I am always here... sadly,” it was true. Being a landlord was pretty much my only gig. I really should pick up a damn part time or something.

Yeah right. And miss out on sad sap soap operas like this? I stifled a laugh at my thoughts before walking back to my apartment.

I sharply turn around catching the red-head’s eyes lingering on my form, “Holler if you need anything, but don’t holler if you don’t because nobody likes a noisy neighbor, got it?” I wink at him before making my way into my apartment.

Bakugou finally averted his gaze from the metal rail that he had been glaring at in the distance and snatched the key’s out of Kirishima’s frozen hands, “You’re drooling, dumbass,” he snaps his friend out of the trance that I had left him in as he roughly shoves past him toward Mina’s front door. The blond felt his heart ache begin to creep up on him again.

I just had to have the same name as you did. Who knew Y/N was such a popular name?

On the other side of town, you had only just returned home as well, “Todoroki?” you called out softly into the dark house. No reply came and you weren’t sure if you were relieved or upset. Your feet were still heavy from earlier as you tiredly shuffled into the living room and plopped down onto the couch, a huge sigh being released from your being as you threw your head back.

You sat like this for a moment, unable to feel much as a numbness began spreading throughout your aching body. Your eyes peeled open to stare at the ceiling above you. You forced your heavy head back up and took in the mess of papers scattered throughout your home from yesterday evening’s transgressions.

“Y/N,” The sudden voice made you jump, but your tense body was soon engulfed in Todoroki’s tight arms, “I was so worried when you didn’t come home last night! I--” the man found himself trying to calm down. He took a short breath and restarted his approach once more as he looked into your eyes, “You were stress driving again, weren’t you? I don’t like how we left things, Y/N. I can’t have you leave upset like that ever again. I love y-“

“Katsuki and I hooked up,” you abrupted his oncoming confession. You had to let him know. You were the mess of a human that ruined Fae’s love and stomped on Todoroki’s as well-- god!

A well of tears pooled in your eyes as you stared at the man who loved you-- the man you were definitely destroying. “W-what?” his stoic demeanor completely shifted into a zone of hurt.

“Katsuki and I kissed. A lot,” you corrected, “God Todo, it was like melting back into home-- into what I am supposed to be! I-I am no better than him!” your voice finally cracked as your first tears began falling. You moved your body to walk away from him, but he tightened his grip on you just enough to hold you in place,

“You’re nothing like Bakugou. You’re caring and honest and considerate and beautiful and I don’t take back what I said. I do love you. I still really do,” regret began filing into his expression as his pursed his lips, “Maybe I shouldn’t have waited so long to show that. I know that actions speak louder than words,” His eyes flickered down to your lips.

He had wanted to wait thing long to give you the time to properly heal, but that approach was obviously was simply letting your emotions simmer and crust over. Maybe the Todoroki would have to take a more direct approach in showing you your worth.

“How I feel remains the same,” his breath reached your face in a warm blanket as he wiped away your tears, “Y/N, I’d like to know if you feel the same way,” he leaned in closer to you and waited. He needed you to close that last centimeter of distance, then he could fully show you how much you meant to him—No reservations.

“I... do...” you weren’t sure if you sounded too sure, but to Todoroki’s ears, he’d never heard anything so certain! Taking initiative Todoroki disappeared the final distance between you as his lips slowly found their way towards your own. He passionately pressed his mouth against your own as if he were desperately trying to erase any trace of Bakugou.

Fuck that bastard for hurting the woman he loved and then having the gall to keep you entranced in some sort of spell. He was going to erase that fool from your life no matter what...

“Achoo!”

“Damn, city flowers!” The sun was at full mast as Bakugou made his way back toward Mina’s apartment after his “hike.” Mina lived pretty much in the middle of the city’s most urban area and there was practically no tree’s in sight. What was supposed to be a refreshing walk was turned into an aggravating extra shift at work as he came across multiple attempted muggings, an assault, and even a flasher.

The man huffed.

It wasn’t like he had shit else to do. He fucking wished that he could be like Kirishima, sleeping like a baby. He was going on 40 hours without sleep, after all. The past two days had been, in lack of better words, a complete shit show.

But things were about to look up for him. He had a plan in place to get you back. All that he needed to do was follow that plan and nothing in heaven or hell could stop him from—

A feminine shriek snapped him out of his thoughts, “Get you damn hands off of me, prick!”

Bakugou growled in frustration. He was gonna explode the hell out of whoever this was he swore to god.

The man angrily marched toward the bickering voices. They were near the base of Mina’s duplex.

Bakugou paused as he walked straight into one of my frequent arguments with my on-and-off dick of a boyfriend, Ty.

“Baby, you know that I love only you,” his voice hardly sounded believable. In, fact I was sure that I have heard toddlers be more persuading, “It shouldn’t matter what happened in the fucking past. Can’t you just let bygones be bygones?” A half-laugh, half-snort love child tore out of me as I rolled my eyes at the bag of dicks in front of me.

“You’re full of shit, Maybe that’s why your breath smells like ass all of the time,” I tried to turn to walk back into my apartment, but he suddenly snatched me by my shoulder and roughly whipped me around toward him,

“Dammit, Y/N!” the sound of yours and my name caused Bakugou’s heart to race as his nervous system suddenly went on edge. An intense mode to protect suddenly activated within him as the man that I was arguing with continued, “If you’d stop being such a bitch for five seconds and let me explain!” he roughly snatched my face in his hands.

“GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!”

Should Bakugou interrupt this lover’s quarrel? Or ignore the couple’s arguing and go home?

YOU DECIDE!!

Follow this link to cast your vote

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quoth-the-sparrow · 4 years

Text

A Burst Of Color

A Sanders Sides Fanfiction

Warnings: TS Deceit, Sympathetic Deceit (if I need to add anything, let me know)

Pairings: Analoceit, Background Royality, Remile and Joan/Talyn

Description: Soulmate!AU; a symbol of your soulmate is tattooed on your body in black ink. When you meet your soulmate it fills in with color

Word Count: 2,280

You can also find this story here on ao3

I wrote this story for @elfarmyenby

Virgil looked out the window, absentmindedly tapping his fingers against his leg. His father hummed along to the song playing on the radio, but he could hardly focus. High school was alright, filled with music and friends, but still he was missing something. Someone. Two someones, to be specific. He traced the black ink tattoos on his arms with his fingers, first the snake and dahlia on his left arm, then the hummingbird and lotus on his right. Soulmates. He had two soulmates; which wasn’t unheard of but wasn’t particularly common either. Maybe college is where he’d finally meet them.

He was so lost in thought that it took him awhile to realize his father was trying to get his attention. “Virgil? Kiddo, what’s on your mind?”

“Hmm? What? Oh, sorry, dad. I just am wondering if I’ll meet them. My soulmates, I mean.” The word made him feel melancholy; he wanted to know who the people he would come to love were. What they liked to do for fun, what kinds of food they liked, what music they listened to. If they’d be anything like Virgil imagined they’d be.

The car stopped at a light and his father looked at him over the top of his glasses. “Virgil, they’re going to love you. You’ll meet them soon, but it can’t be the only thing you’re working towards okay? You have to focus on school, work, and making friends too!”

Virgil nodded, running a hand through his short hair. He took a deep breath as the car lurched forward again. “I will, dad, don’t worry. I just… I thought for sure I’d meet them in high school. Most of my friends met their soulmates in high school. I didn’t.” He looked down at his tattoos again. What if he’d missed them somehow? What if he wasn’t driving towards his soulmates, but further and further away?

Patton seemed to sense his son’s worry and said, “Well, I didn’t meet your father until I was 24. I still remember the way his eyes lit up when he saw my tattoo fill in with color. He swept me off my feet, literally! He was so handsome; he still is! My Romeo.”

“Dad, gross!” Virgil laughed, and his dad did too. He loved his parents; they always had a way to brighten his mood when the storm clouds rolled in. His dad was right; he was gonna be okay. He had to have hope, right?

“How much longer until we get to the dorms?”

“Not too much longer, I don’t think. Maybe half an hour? Then we can get you all set up!”

Virgil nodded and went back to staring at the window. So much was happening in his life right now. He only hoped that all the steps he was taking would bring his soulmates into his life.

***

“Yes, dad, I have everything. I’m gonna fill up before I head out.” Logan said as he put the last of the boxes into his car.

Emile smiled, giving his son a hug. “Oh, I’m gonna miss you! You’ll call every day, right? And take care of yourself? Mental health is just as important as physical health, remember that. And if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll drive over. You know that, right?”

Logan let out a soft sigh and hugged back tightly before pulling away. “Yes, I promise I’ll call every day. I do know that my mental health is important; you’ve been telling me that my whole life.”

“I know, I just- you’ve never been away from home before! We homeschooled you, took you on trips, all together as a family. And now here you are, going off to college! I’m so proud of you, but I can’t help but worry. That’s what parents do.”

Logan adjusted his glasses, not sure where to look. His eyes fell on his tattoos and he smiled. They’d always been a source of comfort to him, a way to ground himself when the world got to be too much. “Dad, I’m going to be okay. I can do this. I have my stim toys and I remember all my grounding and coping techniques and I have you and dad on speed dial.”

He nodded and gave Logan one last hug. “Be safe on the road, and call when you get there okay? Bye, Logan!”

“I will, bye dad.” Logan got in his car and pulled out of the driveway. He only hesitated for a second before driving away. He was both excited and nervous, almost scared of what awaited him at college. But he couldn’t stay at home forever. He had to live his own life, follow his own path. Besides, he had two people to meet, and hopefully they were just as excited to meet him as he was to meet them.

***

Dee sighed as xe flopped back onto xyr bed. This was ridiculous. Why couldn’t xe just do this? “Just get up, you idiot, you have a dorm to get to.” Xe stared at xyr tattoos, lost in their patterns. Xe had always been intrigued by xyr tattoos; it was pretty uncommon to have more than one soulmate. Dee had two. One of the tattoos was a stack of books with a pair of glasses resting on top. The books covered a wide variety of subjects, from poetry to history to science. The other tattoo was simpler but no less curious; a pair of headphones surrounded by music notes.

Dee forced xemself to get up and get ready. Xe still needed to put the last of xyr boxes in the car, and drive up to the school. Maybe xyr soulmates were there. It was a bit troubling to xem that xe hadn’t met xyr soulmates yet. Xyr parents had found each other in high school, but Dee had graduated and hadn’t met either of xyr soulmates. Xe had gone to every music store, every library and bookshop in hopes of meeting them, but to no avail. College had to be it, right? Xe wished it to be true with all xyr might.

“Okay, I can do this,” xe muttered to xemself as they sat up. Grabbing a box of sketchbooks, xe headed to xyr car to finish loading up. Xyr parents had left for work for the day already but it wasn’t a huge deal since xe wasn’t even leaving the city for college.

Xe sent a quick text message to xyr parents letting them know xe was headed to the dorms before driving off. Xe took a deep breath and tried to think of who xyr soulmates might be, and hoped that whoever xyr two soulmates were, they’d love and accept xem for who xe was.

***

Virgil set down the last of his things. It had taken almost ten minutes to get his dad to leave. He knew his dad meant well, but still. It looked like he was the first to get there. The dorms were nice; he had chosen the room at the far end of the hall and hoped his roommates wouldn’t mind. He sat on the floor in the living room area and scrolled through Tumblr, having no real desire to unpack quite yet.

The front door opened a while later and Virgil looked up from his phone. A boy walked in, nearly stumbling as he crossed the threshold. Virgil stood to help the stranger, who was struggling with the boxes in his hands. “Whoa, hey let me help you with that.” Virgil grabbed the box on top and set it down onto the floor.

“Thank you for your help. My name is Logan, it’s nice to meet-” Logan stopped, words caught in his throat. Virgil had looked into Logan’s eyes and at that moment, their tattoos glowed softly before filling in with color. They each stared down at the ink, then each other again.

Virgil was the first to speak. “You… you’re my, we’re... “

“Soulmates.” Logan finished. Virgil blushed and nodded, smiling at the other boy. Virgil thought he was handsome, those bright blue eyes sparkling behind his glasses. He took everything in, not wanting to miss anything. He was tall, taller than Virgil by at least a few inches. He had some sort of medical bracelet on, and he looked utterly adorable in his black shirt and blue tie.

Logan was staring as well, which made Virgil blush an even deeper shade of red. He hoped Logan thought he was good looking, because Logan sure as hell was. Logan… “Oh hell, my name.”

“My name is Virgil, by the way.” He swept his dark hair out of his eyes. Logan smiled and said “Oh! Like the poet?” Virgil nodded.

“Yeah; my dads wanted something unique.”

“It suits you,” Logan said, and he gently took Virgil’s hand in his. Virgil looked down at their joined hands and smiled. Finally, a soulmate! He still felt that other piece missing, but even just having Logan there felt amazing, like a puzzle piece clicking into place.

“Do you mind if we compare tattoos? I’m curious to see what mine looks like.” Logan showed Virgil his arms, one tattoo colored and the other blank.

“Oh, yeah sure.” Virgil took in Logan’s tattoo, the one that symbolized him. It was a grand piano, with music sheets spread above it. “I love that; I’ve played piano ever since I was eight. I also really like playing guitar and drums, but I’m not as good at those yet.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Wow, you play three instruments? That’s incredible, you must be very talented.”

“Thank you,” Virgil replied. “I really like the tattoo that represents you. Do you like hummingbirds?” Virgil showed Logan the tattoo he had of a hummingbird flitting over a blue lotus. Logan adjusted his glasses.

“I do! They’re wonderful birds; did you know that they’re extremely smart? A hummingbird's brain is larger in comparison to body size than any other bird. Not to mention, they have a terrific memory. They know every flower in their territory and how long it will take each flower to refill; isn’t that fascinating?” Logan’s whole face lit up as he rambled about them, and Virgil listened happily. So one of his soulmates was an incredibly smart nerd; he could roll with that.

“I remember something about how they represent love and luck.” Virgil added once Logan was finished. “I looked it up, to see if maybe it could tell me something about who you’d be.”

“That makes logical sense; all flowers and animals have meaning. What about your other tattoo? For our other soulmate.” Logan held out his other arm, showing a sketchbook with a drawing of a snake, an ink pen beside it.

“Seems like they’re into art. Mine has a snake too, look.” Virgil showed Logan the tattoo of a snake wrapped around a dahlia.

“That is curious but makes sense. Snakes represent a creative life force, rebirth and transformation. I wonder when we’ll meet them. Perhaps they’re going to be our other roommate?”

Just then a car pulled up and parked. Virgil and Logan looked from the front door to each other and back again. “I guess we’re gonna find out, huh?”

Logan stood first and helped Virgil to his feet before heading out the front door. The two of them saw someone get out of the car. They held hands and waited, both of them hoping that this was their soulmate.

***

Dee parked the car and took a deep breath. Xyr nerves were completely shot at this point but xe knew xe needed to relax. Panicking would do xem no good; besides, there was no guarantee that xyr roommates would even be xyr soulmates. Still, xe knew xe had to prepare for the worst. “You just had to wear a skirt, didn’t you?” xe scolded xemself. It was too late now, so xe steeled xemself and got out of the car.

Xe saw two figures standing by the front door. Dee looked at them and waved. The shorter boy in the purple shirt nodded in return, and the taller one in the tie waved back. Dee gulped. They were both attractive, and he glanced at their joined hands. “Maybe they’re soulmates?” Dee walked up to them to introduce xemself.

“Hello, my name is December, but you can call me Dee if you want.” As xe moved closer, the boy in purple glanced at xyr tattoos. Dee noticed this and looked down, smoothing xyr skirt.

“It’s nice to meet you, December. I’m Logan, and this is my soulmate Virgil.” Dee looked back up and met first Virgil’s gaze, then Logan’s. Before anyone could say anything more, both Dee’s tattoos glowed, filling in with color.

Xe stared at xyr colorful tattoos and grinned. “You’re my soulmates. You’re my soulmates!!” Xe dashed up the steps and hugged Virgil and Logan, who hugged back tightly. It felt right, so right, but still Dee couldn’t shake that feeling of nervousness. Xe gently pulled away.

“Um, there is one thing I need to tell you both. Well technically two things…” Dee trailed off. Logan nodded, an encouragement to go on.

“What is it, Dee?” Virgil asked.

“I’m nonbinary trans, and I use xe/xem pronouns. Is that okay?” Dee bit xyr lip and waited for a response. Logan tilted his head and Virgil gave Dee’s hand a soft squeeze.

“December, that’s who you are. Of course it’s okay. You’re my soulmate; our soulmate. Nothing's gonna change that.”

Logan took Dee’s other hand and smiled. “I agree with Virgil. You have nothing to worry about.”

The three of them embraced once more, each of them finally feeling complete.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this story! Reblogs are greatly appreciated. Tell me what you think! If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my taglist, please let me know by sending me an ask. You can find me on ao3 at Storytelling_Sparrow. Thank you so much for your continued support!

Taglist: @galaxywitchwolf13 @magicallygrimmwiccan @daring-elm @creativity-killed-thekitten @007ardra @princeyssash @demigodnamedathena @khadij-al-kubra @im-shooting-straight @sawyer-saucee @gayzelley @it-me-the-phi @sparkedawg @ironwoman359 @today-only-happens-once @areyousirius-noheisdead @madly-handsome @milomeepit @princelogical @silversmith-91 @xxladystarlightxx @poisonedapples @romanamongthestars @ab-artist @ninjago2020 @anuninspiredpoet @justanormalfoot @gemini-the-kitsune-rp @urielthealienboio @aizawaisnotstraight @theresneverenoughfandoms

#sparrow writes #sanders sides fanfiction #human au #soulmate au #analoceit #ts deceit #sympathetic deceit #virgil sanders #logan sanders #background royality #background remile #background joan/talyn #reblogs are appreciated #let me know what you think

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aestheticdisposition · 4 years

Text

Kara and Lena go the same self-laundry place and Lena takes Kara’s clothes off the washer, puts her clothes in and leaves Kara’s on the floor. Later, they confront each other. (You can find it on AO3 but for some reason the link doesn’t work when I put it here 😅)

It had been an extremely difficult and exhausting day for Kara. She woke up late, realizing the phone charger was plugged in her phone but not in the actual plug on the wall, which meant her alarm didn’t ring, resulting in her sleeping in. Honestly, it wasn’t the first time she’d done something like this. In fact, she’s been doing similar things for about a month now.

She used her super speed to shower and get dressed but she really couldn’t afford to take her time to eat and enjoy a good cup of coffee, which was what really was frustrating about waking up late.

Deciding to fly to work today, she took off from her window and into the sky, already feeling the cool breeze relax her a bit. But it didn’t last long. As soon as she set foot in her office, Snapper barged in and told her off for being late (again). Kara pretended to listen to him and after a while he left with a glare accompanied with a scoff. She was finally left alone to finish a fluff piece about this cat breed that apparently had no fur on them? Don’t get her wrong, she loved animals but she was more of a dog person. Plus, cats in general were scary. She was a bit intimidated but she would never admit that out loud.

Several robberies (some with hostages), three fires, two alien attacks, some death glares from Snapper and only five pancakes later, she found herself leaving the Catco building. Greeting some of her co-workers goodnight, she set off to that self-laundry place she heard of from Alex. She sneezed on her washing machine a few days ago and froze it and she hadn’t gotten the chance to replace it with everything going on.

Alex keeps telling her that she needs to be a little more organized, but can you really blame her? She has two jobs she has to balance and a very demanding stomach that has to be filled every hour or so. It’s not her fault she sometimes forgets things. Or break some other things. Or cry when she sees dogs running, with their cute little ears bouncing up and down. But that’s irrelevant.

So anyway, tonight was the perfect night for laundry. The perfect way to end such a day. Honestly, the only good thing about this situation was getting food while she waited for the clothes to finish being washed. But food made everything better for Kara so it wasn’t that bad. It could be worse.

Somewhere not really afar, Lena was sat in her office. It was nearing 8 o’ clock at night and she was still working. Her day hadn’t been any better. She spent it in meetings with white, rich, sexist men who were looking down on her for deciding to take over Luthor-Corp, L-Corp now. God, they think they know everything, even how the tech that she herself developed works! It truly is infuriating.

It takes years of practice to master self-control at such level and in times like these, she thanks Lillian and her stupid grin for teaching her how to keep a neutral expression and not start throwing punches.

And like all this wasn’t enough, her heel broke. In the middle of her walking. She almost fell straight down her face but thankfully she caught herself just on time. But then she realized that what she had held onto was the shelf where she stores all her drinks. It broke and everything fell down (including her). Thank God she was alone.

Needless to say, her office still smells like whiskey. Anyway, she had to wear her sneakers for the rest of the day.

She also had to do laundry. She couldn’t escape it this time with some poor excuse she usually makes up. It needed to be done or she wouldn’t have clean clothes for tomorrow. Sighing, she decided it was best to leave work.

She exited her building and began walking to the self-laundry place she bought a few months ago. Yes, she bought it. It wasn’t like she tried to get closer to a very pretty girl who worked there and whom she helplessly crushed on or something like that. No, it’s nothing like that (even though Lena cried like a baby when she found out that said girl decided to move cities with her boyfriend).

Lena was a Luthor and Luthors are business people with no feelings and own multiple companies and make even more money. At least, that’s what she tells herself when she feels embarrassed of her decision. Nevertheless, she never had the heart to sell it. She’s become friends with an old man whom she regularly bumped into there. And by friends, she means that he was kind enough to smile at her or even make small talk.

But this very situation right now? It was literally a nightmare.

A fashion nightmare, to be specific. Another reason why everyone looked at her weird. She was a Luthor which meant that pretty much everyone judged her for her family’s doing but now, although she hates to admit it, she can understand why people looked at her direction. I mean, it’s not every day you run into a very rich CEO wearing her usual expensive blouse, paired with an also very expensive skirt and… running shoes. They just don’t go with the outfit. At all.

After a few agonizing minutes, she reached the laundry place. Greeting the old man, she rounded the corner and went to her washing machine only to find out that it was already being used. Looking around, she didn’t see anyone.

“Um, excuse me, have you seen…”

But her words died in her throat when she turned around and realized that she was talking to herself. The old man must have left.

She waited for about ten minutes before she started getting irritated. I mean, this was her washing machine. There literally was a sign that wrote “Lena Luthor’s, Do Not Use” at the top of the machine. Didn’t that person notice it? Wait, was it too small? Maybe she should get it replaced.

But it wasn’t small and anyone could see it. Laughing bitterly, she thinks to herself that this must be another man’s doing. One who is rude and disrespectful towards all women. She could just use another washer, truth be told, but she was done being patient with people who did not seem to have some common sense and were always looking for trouble.

Slamming her purse on the bench she is currently sitting, she stops the washer.

“If you want to be a disrespectful asshole, I can be an even worse one” she murmurs to herself.

She gathered all the stranger’s clothes and dumped them on the floor. She instantly felt bad but, oh well, too late now, what’s done is done. She loaded her own clothes in and started the machine.

The small screen read one hour before it finished, which gave her a little time to go and find a good book in the library. After that, she would definitely return. She has to see that idiot’s face when he realizes what’s been done.

Meanwhile, Kara was getting something to eat. Everything was finally organized. Her clothes were being washed and would be finished in a little while, she was now buying food to eat and she still had time for a good bath and a movie when she goes home. Alex would be proud.

She went for potstickers of course and almost swallowed them whole without chewing them first. It was just so satisfying to be able and treat yourself after a hard day. Her night was a hundred percent better that her day. After relaxing with the help of three more potsticker orders, she decided to leave the restaurant, leaving a small tip for the waiter she had become great friends with.

Scratching her skin in thought, she chose donuts for desert. Then, she would go straight to the laundry place because she must have taken a bit more time than she initially intended.

She ended up getting ice-cream too. Three scoops.

But no one could prepare her for what she saw upon entering. She almost dropped her food.

Her poor clothes laid down and wet in the middle of the floor. The washer she had put her clothes in was working but apparently somebody else’s clothes were inside. It didn’t take her long to realize what had happened.

How could people be so cruel? She works so hard to keep everyone safe and they treat her like this. They don’t know she’s Supergirl so it doesn’t really count but still. Has she done so little to show everyone that you should treat others with respect, even if you don’t know them? And besides, it’s not like it has a name written on it or something, this is a public place! Anyone can use whichever they want! (Unless it is already working, obviously!)

At that moment, her eyes begin to water. Her vanilla ice-cream, long forgotten starts to melt and droplets fall onto the floor making it dirty.

This was when Lena returned from the bookstore. Kara of course heard her and turned around and almost forgot about all her problems, including wet and still dirty clothes.

Wow. This was all Kara could think. This woman is gorgeous; long, dark brown hair, almost black, neated in a very elegant bun revealing her sharp jawline, her eyes were piercing green. They reminded her of kryptonite. She was wearing a blue, long-sleeved blouse that showed off her cleavage just the right amount and a pencil skirt that hugged her in all the right places, revealing her curvy figure. She was absolutely breathtaking. (Although something was terribly wrong with her choice of footwear).

The woman looked oddly familiar, though she couldn’t put her finger on it. Was she a model?

On the other hand, the sight of this, very attractive might she add, woman broke Lena’s heart. So it wasn’t some arrogant man. This woman seems small and sweet and kind-hearted and judging by the tears in her eyes and the two very full bags of donuts she is carrying along with some ice-cream which is slowly melting in her hand, she never meant any harm.

Lena almost started crying with her.

Her blonde hair fell down her shoulders in soft curls that made her want to run her hand through it, just to see if it was as soft as it looked like. She could tell her eyes were blue even behind the pair of glasses and were a bit glassy from the tears. They matched the pale blue sweater she wore, which was tacked in a pair of pants. She was adorable.

Yes, Lena was now officially the worst citizen in this planet. In the entire universe.

Kara is still standing there, ice-cream melting in her hand, staring at the woman.

“Umm… hello” the woman says, giving an end to the awkward silence.

“Hi…” Kara replies. “Are you the one who got my clothes out of the washer?” she asks suddenly a bit angry.

“W-what? No, I don’t… Okay, yes I am.” Lena replies. Her first instinct was to dodge the question but really, it was no use. They were the only people in the room.

“Why would you do that?” Kara asks, sniffing her nose. Her night was going so well up until this point.

“Well why would you use my washing machine when you could have easily used another one?” the other woman says while raising her voice a little.

“Your washing machine?” Kara asks with a scoff “Your washing machine? Does it have your name written on it? Have you bought-”

“Actually yes, it does have my name, right on top of it.” Lena interrupts “I also own this place” she adds powerfully, looking at the other woman straight in the eye. (She really does have pretty eyes).

Kara whips her head at the machine’s direction and sees a (rather huge) sign that reads “Lena Luthor’s, Do Not Use”. Crap. This is Lena Luthor. The Lena Luthor? That’s why she looked so familiar! So, the washer was hers and she was right after all… Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she turned around to face the woman once again.

“Well, I’m sorry I used it I honestly didn’t see the sign, but this doesn’t justify why you went and threw all my clothes on the floor.” Kara says, a little steadier and more confident this time.

Now it’s Lena’s turn to be taken aback. Of all the things she expected, this wasn’t one of them. The blonde didn’t even seem fazed by her last name. She expected an outburst of hate, worst case scenario she could have gotten stoned by the donuts she was caring.

“I waited for you but you were taking too long so this seemed like the most logical thing to do.” Lena says emotionless.

“And what was the least logical thing? Just use another darn washer?” the blonde emphasizes taking a few steps towards Lena while also making some motions with her arms.

Lena cringed a bit as drops of now fully melted ice-cream landed all over the floor and one on her shoe too, forming a perfect white circle on her black sneakers. She took a few steps back, mainly to prevent more ice-cream from showering her.

Wait, who uses the word darn nowadays?

“Look who’s talking! You are supposed to be here when the machine is working, but instead you got up and left! And I was kind enough to wait for you too, but as I said, you took too long.”

Now Lena is angry. Who does she think this woman is? Just because she’s-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the washer when all of a sudden, it started making some weird noises. Few seconds later, water came out from under it (along with some smoke from the top of it), making the floor all wet.

“Oh my God now you broke it too!” Lena shouts frustrated with how her night is going.

“I broke it? If I remember correctly it is you who started it the last time before it broke!” Kara shouts equally as loud as Lena.

Lena chooses not to reply. Partly because she is too irritated to function and partly because the woman is right, she couldn’t have broken it. Now she just stares blankly at the washing machine trying to figure out what’s wrong with it.

“A tube must be leaking somewhere inside it” Lena diagnoses.

“What?”

“I said a tube must be leaking somewhere inside this thing.” she repeats.

Deciding that she will have to wear the same clothes tomorrow, she gets up and takes her phone, ready to take over the situation and solve this problem.

At the same time, Kara looks at the mess she’s made with her ice-cream. She could clean it… or she could also just leave it as it is. No, that wouldn’t be nice… Rejecting her last thought, she digs into her purse and finds some baby wipes. She briefly hears the woman speak on the phone with a plumper about the leak. Well, she did say she’s the boss, she’d better act like it. But Alex didn’t mention that Lena Luthor was the owner. Maybe she didn’t know it.

As she was about to get on her knees, the other woman speaks up.

“What are you doing?”

“Um… Trying to clean up?” she says, stating the obvious.

“You don’t have to. I’ll have someone take care of it.”

“Are you sure?” she blinks. “It wouldn’t take more than five minutes” she tries to argue.

“Yes, you don’t have to.”

“Okay…”

Putting the baby wipes back in her purse (after cleaning her hands), she picks her clothes off the floor and puts them in another washing machine. She can feel the woman’s eyes on her the whole time. What’s her problem now? Can’t she do laundry like a regular person?

“What?” she asks flatly.

The woman, Lena, laughs a little without answering. Ignoring her, she makes sure everything is good to go and presses the start button. Then, she collapses on one of the benches, sighing deeply.

Lena silently observes the blonde from her spot. She’s really pretty and she seems masculine. She slaps herself internally.

“No, bad Lena” she mumbles. Oh great, now she’s talking to herself and as if she were a dog. She’s going insane. What’s next? Following Lex’s paths and losing all of her hair? She shivered at the thought.

She copies the other woman and starts unloading her clothes off the now broken washing machine and puts them in the one next to it. The whole time she does this, she’s thinking of how badly she behaved. She’s the boss, she should be good with her clients! They’re giving their money to her!

And more specifically, this woman who is sitting right there (and is probably watching me this whole time oh God oh God please don’t embarrass yourself), who was kind enough and didn’t leave after the freaking boss dumped her clothes on the floor, who was considerate enough and offered to clean up her ice-cream that she herself ruined.

She has to do something. She is Lena Luthor, CEO of L-Corp, a multi-billion company. She is a genius and more importantly, she is a good person. And she is going to prove it right now.

“I’m sorry”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry,” she states again more loudly and clearly. Seeing she has all the woman’s attention, she continues “I apologize for my previous actions, it wasn’t fair of me to do what I did. It was unacceptable, especially when such behavior is initiated from a person of authority. I let personal reasons cloud my judgement and I guarantee you that it shall not be repeated. I offer you one year of free subscription as a way of saying sorry ” she finishes her little speech with a small, true smile, one not a lot of people have the privilege to witness.

Kara just sits there and blinks. Okay, she did not expect that. That woman seemed so full of herself.

“Umm… wow… Th-thank you for.. for your words. I should apologize too. I should have been more observant. My sister always tells me to be a bit more… put together and I had a really, really bad day today so your words right now mean the world to me, you have no idea, but I couldn’t possibly accept your offer. It’s simply too much. I’m about to get my own washer actually sometime during next week. I just came her today because it… also broke, somehow, I’ll get out of your hair soon, I promise and I am rumbling again I am so sorry.”

Great, she managed to embarrass herself to Lena Luthor. Why couldn’t she just be like her alter-ego once in her life? Wait, was that a giggle she heard? At least she made her laugh. That’s something.

“Well, I’m a bit saddened by the fact that I will not be seeing you around for long.” She did not mean to flirt, why did she flirt? This isn’t going the way she planned it in her head.

“Haha, I’m not sure I’ll be any good news for the place. It’s only my first time here and there’s already a broken washer and the floor is sticky and full of my ice-cream so…”

Lena laughed at her response but decided to put an end to their conversation. Had the conditions been different, she would attempt some small talk, but she was too exhausted and tired to do anything but sit and stare at the wall.

At the other end of the room, Kara is sat at a bench and her donuts are all she can think about. They must be at the perfect temperature right now. She can smell them from inside the bags and they make her mouth water. However, it would be rude not to offer Lena one.

“Hey Lena, um… you do eat donuts right?” she asks gesturing at the bag she’s holding.

“Well, I am human.” Lena replies smiling from her seat.

Kara, like the gentlewoman she is, gets up and offers her the bag so she can choose.

“These are simple, just some sugar on top of them, these are so good, they have marshmallows on top as you can see and chocolate on the inside, but these, oh these are my favorite, the ultimate best. I’m telling you, you haven’t put anything better in your mouth” she explains to Lena. Realizing what she just said, she starts blushing. Oh Rao.

“Hmmm… I think I’ll try… this one. This seems good.” Lena says while examining it in her hand.

“Ah, good choice! I promise you, you will not be let down.” Kara states grinning.

“Thank you…”

“Oh, right, my name is Kara, God where are my manners.” Kara says in a rush while offering her hand to Lena.

But Lena’s hands are both dirty with chocolate so she ends up shaking her elbow instead.

So now they wait for the washers to finish while sitting next to each other. Kara offers Lena another donut but Lena kindly declines, so she ends up eating everything else on her own.

It’s late and both women can’t wait to go home. Kara doesn’t have time for the movie she wanted to watch and Lena is too tired to answer emails instead of going straight to bed. It’s already eleven at night and the city has quieted down. Less cars honking, less motorbikes revving to disturb Kara’s sensitive ears and Lena’s headache.

Kara wishes she could speak to Lena a bit more. She seems like a very interesting woman. She is a Luthor so that means that whatever she’s doing is immediately written in magazines. It’s easy to follow her scientific progress and with some more digging, she’s sure she can find some other facts about the woman sitting next to her.

But she doesn’t want to stalk her, it doesn’t feel right.

This woman deserves more. She is not sure if she is able to give it to her. After all, a Super and a Luthor? But she is willing to try. She can tell the woman is tired by her body language and her heartbeat and she has a sudden urge to make her pain go away, even if it’s just a little.

They have much in common actually. Both carry the weight of the world on their shoulders- Kara with being Supergirl and Lena with her technology that saves thousands of lives. Both betrayed by family, Lena left with a broken name, Kara with a broken planet and both with broken hearts. Both were adopted, despite the fact that clearly Kara had more luck than Lena in this part. The list can go on.

They didn’t start off very well, truth be told, but the start of a journey doesn’t determine its end. And Kara has hope.

But what was she supposed to say? Hi, it looks like you could use a friend and I’m available? That’s rude. She doesn’t even know if the other woman wants to be friends with her. Maybe she could ask what happened to her shoes. Surely, she couldn’t have worn sneakers with this outfit. But what if she did? Lena could get offended if she asked something like this.

Kara opted for silence. It was the safest.

Soon enough, the washers dinged signalizing that they are finished. The women stand up half-heartedly and go get their clothes. In a little while, they will be on her own again.

Ten minutes later, they exit together the (now a bit ruined) shop and Lena turns to Kara.

“So… again, I’m sorry for what I did. Please, do consider my offer of one-year free subscription, it is the least I can do. And thank you for the donut; you were right it was delicious.” Lena states with a tired smile.

“Apology accepted, we were both at fault back there. And I’m sorry too. Um… I will consider your offer although I suppose I won’t need it cause I’m buying a new washer. And you’re welcome. For the donut.” Kara ends grinning.

“Are you on foot?” Lena asks tilting her head a bit.

“Oh no I flew to work today… on-on a bus. Yeah on a bus. Aha. Yup. Definitely. Why?”

“My driver is about to come pick me up and I was wondering if you want me to drop you off somewhere since it’s gotten quiet late.” Lena says while switching her weight from one foot to the other.

“Oh no I wouldn’t want to get you out of your way. I’ll be fine honestly, it’s not the first time. My sister, Alex, she works for the FBI and she has taught me a trick or two so I’ll be absolutely fine, I promise haha, no biggie… and I’m also a good runner I’m sure I can escape any situation and I will uhh… I’ll just stop talking right now…” Kara shut her mouth embarrassed of her word vomit once again. She planned on flying home tonight because firstly, she doesn’t have a car and secondly, even if she did, she flew to work in the morning too.

“I don’t want anything bad happen to you. You may be able to protect yourself from a human mugger but what if an alien decides to show up? It’s a risk I’m not willing to take.”

“Right… because aliens are dangerous and could… seriously injure me... because I’m a human and I most certainly not indestructible.” Kara tries hard not to cringe at this conversation right now. She can hear Alex laughing in the distance somewhere in the DEO.

“Of course not, unless you’re Supergirl,” Lena stares for a moment “but even if you were I would still offer you a ride. I imagine flying must be tiring”

“Haha,” Kara fakes a laugh (horribly too) “I wouldn’t know since I’m not her.” She hasn’t hoped for call from Alex so badly before.

Thankfully, a nice black car with tinted windows pulls up in front of them interrupting their conversation and Kara has to stop her jaw from crashing onto the floor. She’s not a big fan of cars but man is she shocked. Of course Lena Luthor would drive something like this. Why is she even surprised?

“The offer still stands” Lena now fully turns to her.

“Which one?” Kara jokes.

“Both” Lena replies elegantly. How can she be so graceful all the time?

“Well since you asked so nicely I will not decline being taken home” Kara beams.

“Excellent” the other woman smiles back, her eyes wrinkling a bit.

Lena moves forward and opens the door for Kara. Mumbling a shy ‘thank you’, Kara gets in and tries not to gasp. The car is very clean and tidy, too clean and tidy. She almost asks if she’s allowed to sit or if they want her to float instead so that she doesn’t dirty the seats (don’t worry, she stops herself just on time).

The car ride was silent and lasted only fifteen minutes before the driver pulled up in front of Kara’s building.

“Thank you for the ride and for the- for everything actually. Thank you” Kara smiles, expressing her gratitude. She swallows her disappointment and grits her teeth. Why is she such a coward? She’s fought the deadliest of aliens, yet she’s afraid to... do something, anything regarding the green-eyed woman. Just say that she’d like to see her again. Anything! “Goodnight Lena.”

As she is about to get out of the car, Lena speaks up.

“Wait, Kara!” Oh Rao, did I forget something? My purse, my phone, does my cape show?

“Yes?” Kara replies a bit too eagerly.

“I was wondering if maybe… you know… if I could have your number? I really liked the donut you gave me and I would like to buy one myself. I could give you a call and you could tell me where I could find the shop? We can visit it together too if you want? I could also buy you some ice-cream since I pretty much ruined it.” Lena suggests, betrayed by her trembling voice.

“YES! I mean yes, yeah, why not. Sure, we can arrange that.” Kara almost shouts.

“Good.”

“Good!” Kara’s face is about to tear in half because of how hard she is smiling. “Okay goodnight!”

“Wait Kara, you never gave me your number!” Lena says in a rush.

“Oh right, sorry!” Getting inside the car once again, Lena handed her her phone and Kara, careful not to break the screen from her nerves, typed in her number.

“There you go! I saved myself as ‘Kara the donut girl’ in case you forget who Kara is” she says, handing the phone back to Lena.

“That would be impossible; you’re a hard one to forget. In a good way.” Lena adds hurriedly.

“Well, for the hundredth time in a span of half an hour, goodnight” laughing, she slowly backed away from the car and to her front door.

“Goodnight Kara” Lena smiles for one last time before she shuts the door and the car starts moving.

Kara sighs happily and turns so she can enter her building. That night, she slept better than any other night since she can remember. The next morning, she woke up in time and even smiled at Snapper. Needless to say, she had donuts for lunch.

#supercorp #katie mcgrath #melissa benoist #humour #happy ending #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #supercorp endgame #fanfic #fluff

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edencantstopfallininlove · 4 years

Text

Consolation (Lee Scoresby X Autistic!Reader)

Content Warnings: very mild bad language, anxiety references, sensory overload, implied/referenced ableist harassment in your past, hurt/comfort, acceptance, HUGGING, WAFFs galore, Lee generally being precious

A/N: This is a really self-indulgent little thing that I thought about at 1AM once and just had to put down somewhere. After roughly 8 nights of work, it's finally done in time for the HDM season finale! Both you and your dæmon (which was visualised as a disk-winged bat, but it’s ambiguous enough to be any terrestrial animal) are gender-neutral and referred to with they/them pronouns.

Without further ado, here it is under the cut! Enjoy!

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A sunset’s glow always looked stunning from the comfort of the balloon. The ceaseless breeze in your face finally died down as the balloon began to make her descent towards the ground below. While you weren't 100% sure what was happening, you sussed that your partner, Lee, had arranged to meet his potential contractors in the next town due west. It was an area that had a reputation for not being the safest of places to live, and for good reason; thievery ran amok.

And it was pure bad timing that meant that the only place you two could think to land the balloon was just on the fringe of the town's market district.

Before Lee set off to (hopefully) get something sorted as to the pay and terms, he left you in charge of keeping the balloon and her contents safe. He reminded you of where the valuables where and to keep as low a profile as possible.

“Stay here, alright?” He said as he disembarked onto the faded cobblestone below. He took one last glance at your weapons store. “And if you get into trouble, you know what to do.”

You nodded in affirmation. You hoped that your little visit wouldn't end in a fight, but conceded that it was better to be over-prepared than caught out.

“Good luck, Lee!” you called as he strode away, Hester following close behind. “Don't do anything stupid!” Terrible advice knowing him, you thought. Your dæmon, [D/N], waved goodbye to them as best they could.

But as soon as the two left your field of vision, something sounded off. Well, everything, really. At first your ears were drawn unwillingly to a conversation that tried to be hushed, and failed. After that, it was as if you could hear an uncensored compendium of life in this place. Drunks with their speech slurred. The hubbub of vendors trying to get their wares sold. Raised voices fighting over nothing. Every word you picked up was physically painful for you, and you couldn't even process them all. Still the mental pressure continued to build.

Then, to add insult to injury, you heard from within your basket fence a grating tick that lasted all but a second from an instrument you didn't care to identify; the only thing that mattered in the moment was that it broke your last atom of resilience and forced you downwards with a wail, hands clasped futilely around your ears. Your dæmon trembled as you fell, drawing back a cloth wall and agitatedly scouring the area for someone or something to ease your anguish. You couldn't tell how much time passed before you heard someone humming...

As Lee was trying not to brood his way back to the balloon after an unsuccessful confrontation, he expected to either find the balloon and her guardian exactly as he left them, or to hear you running up to him to tell him that something had gone horribly wrong. What he didn't expect to come back to was hearing you screaming and crying from within the basket. Lee's blood ran freezing. Fearing the worst, his eyes immediately darted to the one wall of the balloon not covered by cloth. It must've been how your assailant got in. He dashed towards the basket, one hand hovering over the holster where his pistol resided...

Only to find that there was no need to use it.

No sign of a fight, none of the cuts and bruises that he feared, but there was still the matter of you curling in on yourself, quivering and whimpering like an abandoned kitten. The sight of you reduced to such a mess capsized his already sinking heart.

“You've got to be kidding me…” he muttered, wasting no time in intervening. Your dæmon looked a little lost before they spotted him climbing through the opening (he didn't think it fair to ask you or your dæmon to lower the ramp) and gently approaching you. They protested with quiet “No!”s as Lee tentatively placed a hand on your shoulder, only for you to jerk your entire body away.

“Do NOT touch me!” you practically hissed, recoiling once again as Hester landed aboard and narrowly missed your legs. Lee leaned down so that he was at eye level with you.

“[Y/N], listen,” he said, trying to stay cool-headed for your sake, "It's Lee. Look at me and take deep breaths!"

You responded by turning away and continuing to sob. Lee cursed under his breath; you'd had panic attacks before but you'd never been this bad and, so far, you weren't responding well to his attempts to calm you down…

“You're better off giving them some space,” said your dæmon, giving Lee their species' equivalent of a glare. Their voice was more hushed than usual, with a pained quality to it. “This isn't a panic attack, if that's what you think. What you're seeing is a meltdown caused by a sensory overload. It will pass in a short while, so [Y/N] would rather you didn't speak to them until they've calmed down.”

Eventually, your ragged breathing steadied and the tears slowed down enough for you to make out your partner stood opposite you. The moment your eyes locked with his, Lee took a step backwards, perhaps concerned that it would set you off again. All you could do was shake your head when you realised the state you had gotten yourself into.

“I'm so sorry about this,” you began. “[D/N] probably said what was happening to me, but I feel I need to explain exactly what caused it. There's something neither of us have told you.” As you spoke, you grabbed the balloon's ledge and used it to help yourself, slowly but surely, back upright. Not necessarily onto your feet, though, since your legs were shaking too much for you to stand. “This might sound silly but, sometimes, I can hear conversations from far away. I can't filter them out and it all just gets louder and louder… It makes me feel sick. So, all the rabble from further into town was becoming too much for me. Then I heard an instrument on the balloon going off or something, and that was…” You took a deep breath in and out. “That was what caused me to get like this.”

“Look, [Y/N],” said Lee, deciding to give you and your dæmon a little more space, “You've clearly been through a lot since we left. But if you want to tell me something, just tell me. I swear on my life, and on Hester's life, that we won't judge you for it.” He spoke to you softly, a sign that he understood the nature of your ordeal. That little change reassured you that telling him was for the best, even if it was in distressing circumstances.

“Alright. I didn't really want you to find out like this, but…” You swallowed hard. No going back now.

“I'm on the autism spectrum.”

There was a long silence. Lee stayed put and didn't turn away in disgust, instead kneeling down to face you again. It was a good start, but still your gaze refused to meet with his. Instead, you stared at the roof of the balloon as you continued.

“You probably have loads of questions. I don't know if I can answer them all, or if [D/N] can help me, but I-”

“Why didn't you mention it before?” It was Hester who spoke that time. Your dæmon looked at you with face that said, ‘Aye, there's the rub.’

“I just thought it would be better to mask it and hope for the best than for you to know and think less of me because of it. Like I was a lesser being. I was made to feel that way countless times growing up, so I didn't want to tell you in case you became just another person who left me to my own devices because of something I can't help.” Before you knew it, the waterworks had turned on once again. You couldn't help but feel a crushing guilt over the way you spoke to Lee when he tried to help.

“I'm sorry for shouting at you. I know I need to do better. And I hope you don't hate me for not saying anything until now.”

You could've sworn you heard Lee's breath hitch at your words. Glimpsing at his face, you noticed his brows knitted in a frown and his lips quivering. Oh God, no. You've said something wrong, he's turned against you, you've scared him away and it's all-

“Hate you?” he said at last, disturbing you from your spiralling thoughts. His voice faltered on that first word, to your shock. “[Y/N], no! How could I hate you? You're not at fault here; something just happened that was hard for you to cope with.”

“That doesn't make how I spoke to you okay!” you replied with a shake of your head.

“I know. But you're acknowledging that, which is more than can be said for some people... To tell you the truth, I probably would've done the same had that been me. But it's fine, we'll move on from this. Still, if there's anything for me to hate right now, it's the way people have been treating you all this time. Who the hell would think it's okay to make someone feel worthless just because of how their mind works?”

“Wait - you mean you don't see me as less, Lee?”

“Of course I don't. And let me tell you why. You're handy with a weapon, we know that, but you have such a strength that goes beyond combat. It helps you to see the good in every person, every situation that comes our way. And not everyone has the strength to love as fiercely as you do. Your resilience and compassion are things I've always admired about you, in all honesty.”

“He's right, you know,” added Hester, joining your dæmon in front of you. “Lee wishes he was as trusting of others as you. I'm just a tiny bit concerned that it's bordering on jealousy!”

You sniggered at her attempt at lightening the mood. Sensing that you were feeling a little more comfortable now, Lee shuffled over to sit at your left-hand side and, as you looked at the bridge of his nose, you could just about see a wetness threatening to escape his eyes.

“I'm honoured to share my adventures with you. You're an amazing person, with or without autism. And I love you. I know I'm not always the best at expressing it, but it's true.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, you noticed Lee had placed a hand next to yours as Hester silently egged him on. He smiled faintly.

“You want me to hold you now? If you'd rather I didn't, you can say no.”

“Please do. Honestly, I could use a hug.”

And with that, he leaned in and enveloped his arms around your waist, holding you as if you were made of glass. You returned in earnest, crying into his shoulder - only this time, they were tears of happiness over the fact that this man, the love of your life, accepted and cherished you exactly as you were. Your last traces of doubt disintegrated. In that moment, Lee's touch felt like home. Out of the corner of your eye, you could spot Hester and your dæmon nuzzling each other; if your heart hadn't melted already, such a sight would've softened it completely.

“If you're ever worried about something like this happening again,” said Lee, “Please tell me, okay? And I'll do my best to help you. Like, from now on, if I have to leave you with the balloon, I'll make sure we land somewhere we know will be quiet. That alright with you?”

You decided to answer his question with a nod and a swift peck to his cheek.

“Lee. Thank you for this.”

His eyes narrowed. “Anytime.”

A small part of you was tempted to tackle Lee to the floor and pepper his form with kisses. But given the circumstances of where you two were, that wasn't an option. For now, you were more than perfectly content with the feeling of deep, heartfelt unity between your lips and his.

“You don't know what any of it means to me,” you sighed with a grin, breaking the kiss before tightening your grip around his midriff. “I love you so much…”

“I love you too, [Y/N]. I'm a lucky man.” With a grunt of effort, Lee stood back up (leaving you to wobble forward before catching yourself) and began to inspect the metalwork and various dials. “Now, are we ready to get out of this joint?”

“We're leaving already? But what about the contractors?”

“Yeah, turns out they're jerks, the whole bunch of them. I didn't want them around you before, and I certainly don't after all that, I swear to God. Pay would've been terrible anyways…”

“There's always next time, I guess,” you said to no one in particular.

All that was left now was to start the fire and take to the skies once more, heading for a place where you all hoped you'd be safer. Floating away from the quietening streets, you turned your gaze to the radiant stars above and allowed your thoughts to wander.

You felt, for the first time in your life, safe.

#HDM #His Dark Materials #Lee Scoresby X Reader #Writeblr #I Write Stuff Sometimes #hoo boy #this is the single most self indulgent thing I've ever written #not putting a ship tag for everyone else's sake

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filmpertutti51 · 3 years

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#The movie industry is one of the very booming industries worldwide. The reason being movies seem to be certainly one of typically the most p

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gasstationshane · 4 years

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Tales From The DishWasher, Part 1

In a small town, on the north end of main street, on the same side as the dollar store and local ice cream shop, there's a restaurant that is one of the more popular dine in places in town. On the front side, there's a large sign made out of an maroon awning that shades the outdoor tables and chairs for those that want to eat outside or smoke.

On the back side, there's a sign painted on a metal maroon wall with the restaurants name. There's also a lable on the side of the walls that tell you if the doors are for the kitchen or the entrance. If you were to walk in from the back entrance you might wanna make sure your not walking in through the kitchen door. We've had an array of customers that walked in and ended up with a bag of trash falling onto them. One guy even tried suing us because salsa got on his brand new white jeans. Look, even if he didn't see the sign, the door is obviously a kitchen door.

Now if you walked into the actual back entrance, you'd see a small array of arcade machines that were more then likely made in the 90's. The audio from the games faded from years of dust and play time.There's also a small stand of gumball and candy machines, one of the ones where you can get a temporary tattoo for 50 cents each.

A few footsteps and a turn to the right, you'd see the vast open area. Booths to the immediate right and left, a bar on the slightly farther left, tables all scattered around with more booths on the right and left against the walls.

The kitchen area, which would be left at the arcade machines, has a few different sections. The left of where you walk in is the front line cooks area, a grill, friar and a freezer along the front and back as well as countertops with storage cabinets for lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, and other toppings or side foods.

On the right of the entrance is the dishwashers station. A shelf and carts for the servers to sit the dirty dishes on, and a big sink with a sprayer and a few different soap options on the wall. There's of course, the washing machine that's usually used just for sanitation purposes.

Behind the dishwasher station is the shelves where the majority of the dishes that aren't plates or bowls are kept. Most of the kitchen employees keep their stuff there so it's out of the way. And finally, behind the front line cooks, are the back line cooks area as well as the walk in cooler and freezer.

In the dishwasher area is where I work. I spend most of my shifts there and only leaving to put away dishes or use the bathroom or even get a drink. Not everything's normal here though, most of the eventful things happening at night when it's just me and whoever is the main cook that night, and the closing bartender.

We've dealt with a pack of stray dogs that live in the old car wash station across from the dumpster. Their friendly though thankfully, begging me for pets and belly rubs after every shift as well as treats. All of them are a mixed breed between a husky and a wolf. I've taken the liberty of naming them all.

There's Yogi, the big grey and brown male who got his name from how much he looks like a bear. Luna, a blue-ish grey and white one, who got her name from the moon shaped crescent spot on her back. Waffle, a all black one with blue eyes, who got his name by sniffing out the waffle's in my bag one day. Then there's Crash, who's red orange-ish fur makes him look similar to the famous video game character.

There's a few pups too that I haven't named yet because I haven't had time to witness their personalities. Luna, the assumed to be mother of the pups, keeps them in the old storage room of the car wash. I've re done the storage room a bit to give them a bed and a few other things to help her take care of them.

I'm thankful that no animal control or pound people have taken them yet. If they tried, I wouldn't hesitate to take them home to keep them safe. The only reason I'm not taking them home now is because they are used to this place and I don't wanna make them uncomfortable. But believe me, the moment I feel like they are danger whether it be animal control, or them needing a vet visit, they'd be in my custody in no time.

And then there's the mysterious bar truck driver, a trucker who is always at the bar, no matter how early we open. The only time he's not there is when we're closed. He's always wearing a hat, flannel, and some form of camo. He drinks so many combinations of alcohol during his visits, it's a miracle he never passes out or hadn't died of alcohol poisoning. He knows all the words to all the songs on the digital bluetooth jukebox. If you ask him, he'll stop drinking long enough to sing a long to a full song of your choice if you buy him a drink.

And then there's the mysterious puddle of water surrounding the water softener and the pump. The puddle almost always fills the area where the tile is broken. No matter what we do, the puddle never goes away, and is a murky grey color. Sometimes it won't be as much water, but we could be closed for a week and the puddle will still be there. It doesn't help that some water that sprays off from the sink or gets spilled can add to the puddle.

I guess what I'm saying is, weird things happen at the patio restaurant in town. Mostly at night. Weird stuff has been happening even before I started working there. I remember a week before my first shift, there was an incident where all the liquors and vodkas to make mixed drinks were stolen, broken, or empty, as well as ate a whole gallon of ice cream. The whole situation could have easily been blamed on one of the bartenders or other employees at the time, but they were closed that day.

T-Dog, the main front line cook that I close with most of the time, thinks that the bar trucker pick pocketed the key and the security alarm code when we closed early one night. That would make sense, since they closed early the night before and he could've needed to make up for a days loss worth of drinks.

If you ask him, T-Dog always has a somewhat reasonable explanation to any weird thing that happens there. "That puddle isn't mysterious.." He told me after I had accidentally stepped in it again and almost fell over.

"The water softener is leaking, but since we run water so much with the sinks, washers, and bathrooms, the leak doesn't have a big impact. You think the owners would fix this shit, but since it's not causing any problems, they ain't touching it just to save them some fucking money." I always made an effort to hear out his explanations. They may or may not be true but it's way better than my theory about the bar trucker peeing on the broken tile. But my theory would explain the weird smell that happens over there, no matter how much we clean over there.

T-Dog isn't the only cook I close with. Some nights it's Danny, or Jack. Jack tends to ignore the weird things happening here. But he's also the cook that doesn't make me do everything I need to do before giving me the okay to leave.

And I know he doesn't do it because Tobias, Toby for short, is the opening cook in the mornings has told me multiple times whenever something doesn't get done. I see Toby once a week when I actually work a morning shift. He's one of the not so serious cooks, and jokes around every now and then. There was one time where acted like he was gonna knock over my drink.

What's kinda funny, about Toby being the not so serious guy around here, he doesn't believe any of the weird things that I've told him about. He thinks it's rumours to get more customers in.

"Shane, that bar trucker is only here for entertainment purposes. We don't have a stage so he just sits and takes his drinks at night to keep the drunks entertained." He explained. Well.. There was one night that Toby closed for the first time. He learned the hard way that the weird things really do happen here that night.

It was around ten thirty, and we were working on finishing our stuff up for the night when we heard a loud crash come from the cooler. "The fuck was that?" He asked. I shrugged.

"Maybe Alex is still cleaning his stuff up." I replied. He shook his head.

"No.. I saw Alex leave almost an hour ago. There's something back there." I finished taking care of the next load of dishes that needed to go in the washer, before following Toby to the walk in cooler. He was carrying a broom to defend us incase there was something that could attack us or scare it away.

We opened the door slowly to see, not one, not two, but three possums in the cooler. They were snacking on our most recent batch of precooked fish sticks. They looked up at us like a kid who had just got caught sneaking out. Toby went to swing the broom to get the mammals out of there, but as he did one of then jumped on the shelves, knocking down the large ice paddle.

It smacked into Toby and made him fall back. When he landed, the force of the fall against one of the shelves, causing a case of beer to fall onto him. Glass shattered, making him covered in glass shards, beer, and blood. Most of them in his legs and chest.

"Gah!" He cried out as he went to pulling some of the glass pieces. I rushed to the shelf where we keep the first aid kit, handing it to him but he smacked at out of my hands.

"Call an ambulance Shane! A first aid kit ain't gonna fix this shit." He yelled with a look of frustration on his face. I sighed and went to the area where the phone was and dialed the number for the station. When I had explained the situation, the man on the other end sounded genuinely confused.

"You said a Possum snuck into your walk in cooler, and made a ice paddle fall onto your co worker, which caused a case of beer to break onto him??" She asked to confirm what I said.

"Umm yeah that's what happened."

"But how would a Possum get into the cooler?" Possums usually never bothered with the busier end of town."

"I have no idea, but that's what happened!" She let out a sigh.

"And which restaurant in town was this again?" Now it was my turn to sigh.

"Darbie's Patio on Main Street..."

"Ooh that place!" She said, realizing who she was dealing with.

"Please hold." She said. I assumed she forwarded the call to the department that takes care of our cases. As much weird shit that happens here, the department has given us a specific branch and a officer to take care of us.

"Hello, this officer Mark here. Who is this?" He asked in his professional cop voice. Mark was the officer assigned to us, being close friends with the owners. Him and the owners have probably seen more weird shit than I have my whole life.

"Hey Mark, it's Shane Redfield from Darbies Patio. There was an accident with a few possums in the cooler, and now Toby is covered in glass shards." I briefly explained.

"Hang tight, I'll be there with an ambulance in five minutes or less. If there's any big chucks of glass in him, do not let him take it out. If he bleeds out before he can get to the hospital, that's bad news." I thanked him, hung up the phone and stayed with Toby while we waited. The bartender brought us both a drink. He took a long sip before looking back at me.

"Hey Shane?"

"Yeah?"

"..Does weird shit like this happen all the time...?"

To be... Continued

#tales from the dishwasher #tftgs fan blog #dishwasher shane #darbies patio #shane redfield #shane from darbies

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onepunchmanroadtohero20guide · 4 years

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kpop-forwhaat · 5 years

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how you met series

seokjin yoongi hoseok namjoon jimin taehyung jungkook

The pet store that you worked at believed in letting loose some of the animals during the day. What did that mean for you? Chaos.

Every day there’s always a cat fight, or dogs that will casually shit on the floor. It wouldn’t be too bad if there was more than one person scheduled at a time, but no. There’s not today. Because the owners, your parents, believed that you could handle it on your own for hours on end before scheduling help to cut back on costs.

What could go wrong?

A lot, that’s the answer.

“I just don’t understand why they think you can handle all of those animals, plus the reptiles in the next room by yourself?” Your best friend asks over the phone while you feed the guinea pigs.

“I don’t know, don’t get me wrong, I love my job. But sometimes, it would be nice to have someone else here, you know?” You close the guinea pig enclosure and move on to the hamsters, but not without tripping over one of the clingy cats that’s demanding your attention.

“Has anyone come into the shop today?” Her phone rings out now that she’s on speakerphone so you can add clean shavings to the hamster cage.

“No, just a few vendors picking up bags of feed for livestock and horses.” You wipe your hands on your dirty apron, moving on to the next enclosure.

In this one, the rats are. You coo at them when they run in circles, excited to be fed next. You don’t make them wait long, handing them their pellets as well as a few treats of your lunch before leaving back to the cash register where you log the feedings.

“Okay, well I have to go. I can’t be on the phone for my entire shift. But we’re still on next week for drinks, yeah?” You ask. After a quick confirmation from your friend, the call ends.

You sit there for the next hour, petting the cats, playing with the puppies, and rearranging the feeds to match the species.

The bell above the door rings in announcing a new customer entering the shop. You stand up and turn around suddenly, popping your head above a shelf. “Hello!-”

A prompt shout cuts you off, making you shout. In the doorway stands a tall man with broad shoulders. His eyes are wide as saucers, with thick lips and dark hair.

The man starts laughing after seeing you scared, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scream. You came out of no where and scared me!” He puts his hand over his heart and watches you walk around from behind the shelf where you were stocking dog shampoos.

Once your heart begins to calm down, you put down the bottles of shampoo you had almost thrown and walk towards him, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans.

He takes that moment to look at you. You’re much shorter than him, and you have an aura of shyness. The way you avoid eye contact while walking over to him makes him smile, he finds you absolutely adorable. His eyes brush over your curves as your skinny jeans hug your hips and thighs, showing a thickness that he would love to run his hands over. He bets the skin underneath the material is soft.

Your tight uniform shirt is tucked into your jeans, and it shows off your torso that you’ve been working on with your best friend. He sees the dip of your hips and feels compelled to place his hands there.

Your eyelashes flutter when you realize he’s slowly checking you out, and you flush. A man this handsome was checking you out, did he maybe see something worthwhile?

“Is there anything that I can help you with?” You cough, managing to plaster a customer service smile.

He focuses on your lips, a slight frown developing on his when he sees how fake it is. “I was hoping to find this brand of sugar glider food? I heard it’s the best and I only want the best.” He hands you a slip of paper with the printed bag of red sugar glider food.

Your eyebrows scrunch together in thought while you rack through the brands of food set on display towards the back of the store. “I believe we do have this,” you walk towards the presumed isle with him following closely behind.

Jin takes this time to think while staring at your ass. You haven’t seemed to show any recognition to who he was, any indication that you knew he was the eldest of BTS. As cute as you are, he can’t risk his career over a scandal, he has to be quite about anything he does. And a fan bragging about Jin in bed wasn’t exactly going to go over well with his managers.

You were quite shorter than him, and he found that adorable. He wanted to squish you and tell you how cute you are. You didn’t look too much younger than him, and he didn’t see a ring on your finger. He watched you look on the top shelf to locate the brand of food he was looking for, and she caught his eye.

Your cheeks heat when you realize he’s been staring at you the entire time. “Here’s the brand, but you still have to pick out a formula and flavor to really decide which you would prefer. There are also different sizing options, how many sugar gliders do you have?” Your voice is surprisingly clear and concise despite feeling flustered under his warm gaze.

His eyes shift to look at the feed, mulling his choices over. You take this split second to study him in return, finally. His features were pleasantly soft, and free of any acne. He’s wearing a black Nike cap on his dark hair, while wearing a comfortable hoodie and sweatpants combination. “I have 2, Odeng and Eomuk. They’re quite hyper when let out,” he licks his pillow soft lips, his eyes grazing back and forth over the colorful words on the packages. A cat rubs up against your leg before standing on his back legs and reaching his paws up your leg, asking for attention with a soft mewl. Your hand begins to scratch at the top of the orange tabby’s head without thought.

You blink at his deep voice. “I don’t know much about sugar gliders, but I think that’s a normal characteristic, right? But based on these formulas, from what little you’ve told me, I’d suggest this formula and because there are two I’d suggest this size.” You go into full customer service mode, a small smile on your lips.

Seokjin pays attention well to what you’re saying, genuinely interested in you and anything you have to say. He examines the choices once more before turning to you, he wanted to continue the conversation, he wanted to know more about you.

“So do you have any pets?” He pretends to mull over his options more to lengthen his time talking to you.

“Oh, only a cat, she’s my sweetheart.” You pull out your phone and immediately go to the folder in your camera roll reserved for your special animal. “She’s a tuxedo cat, and she loves belly rubs.” You stand there and show him your only child, and he takes everything in with wide curious eyes, indirectly falling in love with your baby girl as well.

You hear the front door open again, and you pop your head around to see the shift change. You quickly hide your phone and send Jin a look, nodding with your head for him to follow you. He picks up the bag he chose and follows closely after you, continuing the conversation. “I’d love to meet her, I’m not a big fan of cats but your cat just seems irresistable.”

You send a grin over your should. You’re surprised that you’re not completely opposed to introducing the closest thing to your heart to him. From what little you’ve observed, he’s charming and kind.

He places the feed on the counter as you walk behind to the register, sending a tight-lipped smile at the next employee as she hangs her jacket up on the coat rack behind the counter.

You scan the bag of food, the air between you and Jin is tense now. Neither of you know how to continue the conversation, the fact that a new set of ears nearby brings a stop to Jin’s plans to ask you for coffee.

After scanning the bag of food, you hit enter “your total is 22,500 won, sir”

“Oh, my name is Seokjin, call me Jin” he shoots finger guns at you with one hand while the other reaches into his pocket to grab his wallet.

You shift from one foot to the other, taking a side glance at your co-worker who is standing there waiting for you to clock out so she can clock in. You clear your throat and look at him, “my name is y/n”

Seokjin mumbles your name as he hands you the correct amount. “That’s a pretty name” he lets his fingertips graze your hand as yours close around the currency. You gulp and look into his warm eyes.

He opens his mouth to blurt out an invitation to dinner when your co-worker butts in “can you guys flirt after you clock out?”

You jump away from each other at her words, and you hurriedly finish the transaction. As you’re handing back his receipt, you make sure to catch his eyes as you do.

At first, Seokjin thought you were going to say your goodbyes and never see each other again. But he noticed a spark in your eye and a smile on your pretty lips. You began, “i just need to clock out and grab my jacket. Would you meet me outside?”

He’s nodding and grabbing the food before he can think, the prospect of seeing you for even a few more minutes sets his stomach into a frenzy and his heart on double time.

As he stands outside waiting for you, bag of feed already loaded into his car, he slides his mask back over his face to hide his identity to anyone on the streets that could possibly recognize him. BTS has began to really grow in popularity and he decided he didn’t need any body guards with him today, he didn’t plan on staying out long; until he met you.

He didn’t know what it was. There was something about you that drew him to you. He wanted to know more about you.

The ding of the door to the shop alerts Jin of your departure from work. You have on a large hoodie over your work shirt and a small bag on your shoulder. Seokjin spots your coworker behind you with a smirk on her lips, watching you approach him with a blazing blush across your cheeks.

You tuck your hair behind your ear, trying to forget the sex positions your coworker had told you to try out on Seokjin. You were absolutely mortified when the words poured out of her lips, the suggestions lewd and kinky, but you couldn’t deny they weren’t hot. But you literally just met the guy, and as attractive he is, especially his shoulder to waist ratio that almost had you drooling that you noticed when he turned to walk out the door.

“Hey”

“Hi”

More awkward silence.

Seokjin wants to kick himself. He thought thoroughly as to what to say when you walked out, but now he sees you here, every thought he had flew out the window. Seokjin is in the middle of trying to come up with something when something is suddenly in his line of vision.

“W-would you like to go out for lunch at this doggy cafe across town sometime? If you put your phone number in, I-I can text you a time and day...” you were so nervous that you rushed your words so fast that your syllables blurred together and your outstretched hands started to slightly shake, therefor shaking the phone that you held up to him that had a fresh contact open for his convinence.

He instantly deflates with a smile on his lips and a fond look in his eye. He decided that he wanted you. You made yourself look so small with the way you avoided looking at him that made him silently coo. He slides his hands under yours to support the phone, and chuckles.

“y/n”

Your eyes snap to meet his at the soft tone. He looks back at you and pouts his kissable lips “you’re literally so cute, how could i say no?”

#bts jin #bts #bts au #bts fanfic #kim seokjin #bts seokjin #seokjin #jin #odeng #eomuk #fanficfion #bts imagines #bts scenario #bts idol #bts fic

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wings-of-a-storm · 5 years

Text

Phew, I am half way through unraveling my thoughts on Lucas’ and Eliott’s big afternoon together. As the flirting gets more blatant, my posts get longer -- I don’t make the rules.

I’m saving your dashes with a cut though! :)

ELIOTT’S APARTMENT

So already one obvious question comes to mind: does Eliott live alone instead of with family? Because that room they were in screams bachelor pad. Plus there was no bed there, so no way is that tiny, cluttered room shared with anyone else as an actual living room. Not with Eliott’s drawings and belongings scattered everywhere. So if Eliott is living alone, I wonder how this will or won’t affect the setting of later plot.

BEER FOR TWO

Eliott saying he has some beer to lend Lucas and then coming out with a ‘suitcase’ of the stuff is pretty funny. I’m not sure if it is supposed to show us that Eliott likes to socialise a lot with friends, or that he might use it as a coping mechanism when his you-know-what gets overwhelming, or whether it is just to show us the difference in age/experience between them – that Eliott can afford loads of beer and is independent already to have such a cache of it stored up (he must surely live away from his parents!), or that he generally lives the life of a university student more than a highschooler (but I’m not French so what do I know?).

What I love though is that Elliot came into the room with two extra beers to visually lure Lucas into staying longer. He could have just asked Lucas if he wanted a beer and then gone off to get a bottle upon hearing his answer, but our sneaky Racoon wanted to make sure Lucas would really stay. How can you say no to someone already holding up beer (especially when they are already doing you a favour)? Plus having the item right in front of you is so hard to resist and so, I dunno, action-oriented (I’m sure there are studies on it). Smooth work there, Eliott. True lit student?

ELIOTT’S SPIRIT ANIMAL: THE RACOON

I love how open Eliott is with Lucas about his drawings; that he actually told Lucas that the racoon was meant to be a portrayal of himself. That is very personal information, right there.

BUT THE RACOON LOOKS SO SAD. DON’T DO THIS TO US, ELIOTT!

From the get-go, Eliott has been so open with Lucas and keeps offering bits of himself up even though Lucas doesn’t often reciprocate. Is this to make his secrets all the more painful? Because you get fooled into thinking Eliott is just this warm, open person who is upfront about everything? (Am I being too coy, Skam France? What I meant to ask was: is Eliott’s consistent openness a way to make the end of the episode that much more painful for Lucas? Because he was not expecting that sort of omission from Eliott? Ouch France. Very ouch.)

Anyway back to Eliott’s love of raccoons. How cute is it when Eliott got a little defensive when Lucas shortened ‘racoon’ to ‘rat’ and Eliott was like: IT IS A RACCOON! SHOW SOME RESPECT, BOY! Okay maybe it wasn’t so cute -- Lucas insulting the raccoon is like insulting Eliott and a representation he holds dear in his heart, and for a second, he seemed to take it to heart.

In Skam Italia, we had a deceptively brilliant spirit animal chosen for Niccolò and his state of mind (the giraffe whose heart fell in love before its head caught up), and now we have Eliott’s raccoon.

The most obvious connection Eliott has with racoons is from his own words: they wear a mask. Eliott points out this characteristic to Lucas in typical youthful exuberance, as if it is Zorro or something. But in reality, I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who felt pretty sad hearing him say it despite his adorable smile – it feels like he is already masking (pun definitely intended) why he is drawn to the idea hiding your full identity.

It is pretty interesting how Eliott’s internal turmoil is already being foreshadowed, actually. In previous versions, we’ve seen the pictures his counterparts have drawn and stuck on their walls. We’ve tried to study them to figure out what our Evens were trying to creatively express about themselves as they drew them. But the drawings have never been overtly explained to us by their actual owner before! The mask reference is unmistakable and a real little gem of an insight into how Eliott views himself in the world.

Aside from feeling like he has to wear a mask, I wonder what other elements of the Racoon will come into the storyline later…

‘HOW WOULD YOU DRAW ME?’

Oh my god, Lucas. Just oh my god. No matter how many times I rewatch this clip, my jaw drops at how bold Lucas is. Like have you no shame, child?!

A) Asking Eliott how he would draw him is basically Lucas saying: LOOK AT ME. STUDY ME. TURN ALL YOUR ATTENTION ONTO ME. LET THERE BE A MOMENT IN THE WORLD WHERE ALL YOU DO IS THINK ABOUT ME.

B) I know we’ve all been joking about ‘Draw me like one of your French girls’ but it does feel that intimate. Drawing a portrait, whether it is a spirit animal or not, is an intimate affair. Not necessarily Jack Dawson’s naked ladies-of-the-night kind of intimate, but still exposing on some level. Lucas was basically all: I want to get intimate with you. Challenge accepted or not?

B) The context of their conversation was about spirit animals, about Eliott knowing himself so well, he can see his own characteristics in a specific animal. But how the hell is Eliott supposed to know Lucas well enough to nominate an animal or even have a basic concept of Lucas so early in their acquaintance? They have spoken twice. Lucas asking Eliott how he’d draw him assumes that he is important enough in Eliott’s sphere for Eliott to actually know him the way he’d know a close friend. And since Eliott doesn’t know him that way, it is almost like a challenge to get to know him that way.

C) It is such a huge assumption that Eliott would have the time to even verbally craft a drawing of Lucas. That, my friends, is a transaction. Lucas just robbed Eliott of a suitcase of beer and now he’s demanding something else from him? I know he didn’t ask for an actual drawing, but even just coming up with a theoretical one takes time and thought. The boldness, Lucas, the boldness.

It was all such shameless flirting. Can you imagine Isak or Martino being bold enough to be all: draw a picture of me, babe, and add me to your collection. It was like Lucas skipped testing the waters and just went straight for it.

But somewhere along the way, Lucas must have felt confident enough to go there. Was it because he had seen how open-minded Eliott was in Polaris? Or because he was picking up on their own vibe together? Whatever it was, he was comfortable enough around Eliott to truly flirt. Our baby gay is actually flirting with another boy! But it makes the betrayal at the end of their afternoon so painfullll. I am sensing a pattern here, Skam France: ouch!

And the flirting worked. Because Eliott saw what Lucas was doing and fought fire with fire: damn right he took the opportunity to study Lucas’ face, to openly gaze at him for as long as he wanted and really take him in. (And Lucas ‘bold gay’ Lallemant didn’t even drop his gaze!) I love how Eliott even tilts his head back and steps back for a proper look, like challenge accepted, Lucas Lallemant.

But, incredibly, the quality of his gaze seems to shift, as if we can actually see his artist mindset clicking into place while he appreciates the angles of Lucas’ features and enjoys them.

It felt like such an intimate moment.

Of course what happens next, my friends, is the moment when Eliott drops one of the biggest lies of his life: “I don’t know how I’d draw you.”

L.I.A.R. My mind legit screams that every time I see him take that swig of beer.

Seriously, did you notice Eliott’s foot trying to push the folder full of Lucas’ drawings under the couch? Okay I am joking but those sketches of him must surely exist somewhere. If just glimpsing Lucas on his first day of school inspired Eliott to take another look at Polaris (as seen by the dates on his instagram account), he surely would have doodled Lucas and some of the things he had seen him do with his friends. That sip of beer seemed so much like guilt and thinking fast to cover himself. He lowered his head and everything. Guilllllllty. (Either guilt because he had already drawn Lucas, or guilt because he just got a flash in his mind of the perfect sketch and it was too personal for sharing.)

What I love though is how serious Eliott suddenly sounded when he said: “I’ll have to think about it.” Like even though they had both been half-joking about the whole drawing thing, Eliott really does want to try drawing a portrait of Lucas in whatever form and he is so flustered about that desire when confronted with Lucas’ seemingly omniscient gaze.

And then Lucas does that eyebrow wiggle and Eliott goes from barely-holding-on flustered to send-help flustered. He not only broke the super charged eye contact with Lucas, but had to physically turn his head away to hide his face from him!

Not only that but he suddenly brings up smoking weed out of nowhere -- it had absolutely nothing to do with anything they had been talking about! I imagine it is because smoking weed is Eliott’s go-to method to calm down and he really needed to in that moment so it just came out of his mouth.

And, well, luckily for Eliott, Lucas is a snake that has no qualms about offering up his friends’ weed for further bonding time. ;)

As other people have already mentioned though, it is such a fascinating change that there is such mutual woo-ing going on; that Eliott is charming and Lucas sees it and raises it and ends up knocking Eliott out. It happened with the piano obviously, but this clip is where it really begins.

#Skam France #3x02 thoughts #elu #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #skamfr thoughts #Clip 2 of 4 #Was this clip even real #I am still as shook as Eliott

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danfanciesphil · 5 years

Text

too high (can’t come down) by @danfanciesphil

Suspending himself 7,000 feet above the rest of the world seems likely to be a sure-fire way for Dan to escape normality, and isolate himself for the foreseeable future. The Secret of the Alps, a small hotel tucked into the side of the Swiss mountains is too niche for most avid adventurers to have heard of, making it the perfect place for Dan to work as he sorts through his problems. Unfortunately, privacy is a coveted thing, and as Dan soon finds out, the hotel harbours one guest who values it more than most.

Rating: Explicit Tags: Enemies to lovers, snow, mountains, skiing, hostility, slow burn, secrecy, longing, repression, nobility, classism, cheating, eventual sex

Ao3 Link

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

Chapter Six

For a moment, no words will come. The blood in Dan’s wrist pulses in odd, shifting patterns beneath the skin. He swallows, caught on the edge of a gelid blue stare. “I… can’t.”

“You can’t ski?” Phil asks, his sneer an anchor that yanks Dan back down from the astral plane into which Phil’s touch had propelled him.

“Of course I can ski,” he retorts, bristling. He chooses not to mention that he hasn’t skied since he was fourteen, when his family went to Chamonix for a week, and his mum and dad complained the entire time that it was too cold. At a ski lodge. “But I have to… y’know, work. Hotel stuff.”

Mesmerised by the slight twitch of the corner of Phil’s mouth, which still doesn’t quite count as a smile, Dan’s hostile stance falters, then wanes. Like it’s a perfume wafting from Phil’s skin through the air between them, in the next second Dan smells the imminence of his own surrender.

“Come on,” Phil says, his voice quiet, like it’s just for Dan. It doesn’t seem to matter that nobody else could have heard him anyway. “What else are you gonna do all day? Cook lunch for the hotel ghosts? Sit at reception and pretend you’re not playing on your phone?”

A spurt of blood shoots into Dan’s cheeks; he’d thought he was so stealthy, hiding his phone under the desk as he attempted to load a single meme at a time on Tumblr mobile, using tenuous 3G.

“I- I don’t have any skis,” Dan says lamely.

“Lucky for you that my old ones were repaired by the elusive hotel elf, then,” Phil quips, already stepping away. “I’ll meet you by the front door, shall I?”

He’s gone before Dan can muster up a further refusal. He stands gormless in the middle of the kitchen, gazing around at the pristine surfaces. If only he’d resisted the urge to clean everything already, then he could at least have the excuse of needing to scrub the day away. Perhaps he could quickly throw open all the cupboard doors, ransack the fridge and hurl ingredients and coffee everywhere, feigning a wolf had snuck in somehow, or a snow leopard.

An image flashes into Dan’s mind, of Mona’s deepening frown as Phil explained to her that not only did Dan let some wild animal break in and contaminate the kitchen, but that he also refused to grant the one request of the only guest. He shudders, closing the door on that image before it can develop. Mona is already far too close to a stark realisation of Dan’s utter hopelessness; despite the words of any fortune-telling crows, a voice lingers at the back of Dan’s mind, assuring him that it’s only a matter of time before he slips up and disappoints everyone. His only hope is to stall that inevitability for as long as possible.

Plus Phil is, annoyingly, right. There is nothing else for Dan to do today; he and Mona did a deep clean of the whole hotel before she left, and the place is spotless. With no guests to look after, and a low chance of anyone phoning given that the Swiss news helpfully predicted a terrifying blizzard, Dan really is at a loose end.

It takes about two minutes of dithering in the kitchen before he has to admit defeat. Dan lets out a dreaded sigh, pushing all the air from his lungs, and then goes to wash up the two mugs he’s still holding. As he’s scrubbing the coffee stains, he decides that caffeine is the only acceptable (or available) drug he can utilise to get through whatever lies in store, so he places the mugs on the drying rack, and rinses out a thermos flask he finds, along with Louise’s percolator. He makes the coffee very strong, pours it into the flask, then thinks for a moment, and adds a dollop of soya milk.

As soon as he opens his chest of drawers, Dan is struck once again by how ill-prepared he is for a sudden, impulsive foray into the snowy wilderness. As he lacks proper ‘ski-wear’ - whatever that might be - Dan Instead chooses to go for layers. A clingy t-shirt that barely fit him when he was sixteen, then a baggier, long-sleeved t-shirt. He covers these with a shapeless grey jumper, then a black jacket, and then, finally his warmest coat. He adds thick socks, a hat, boots, sunglasses, gloves and a scarf. By the time he feels he’s ready, his arms stick out stiffly from his sides, but he figures that a little loss of movement is a fair price to pay for not getting frostbite.

He slots the flask into one of the deep pockets of his coat, and tries not to think too hard about what he’s about to do. Or with whom. He deliberately takes his time getting down to the lobby in order to prolong the inevitable, and also because he likes the idea of the Fresh Prince of the Alps having to wait for him. Phil lowers his phone as Dan approaches, pushing off from where he’s leant against the wall. It takes a moment for him to drink in the sight of Dan, and then his eyebrows shoot up, and he seems to swallow something suspiciously close to a laugh.

“Err, think you’ll be warm enough?”

Dan rolls his eyes. “I didn’t exactly pack for extreme sports.”

Phil just makes a ‘hmm’ noise, turning to the collection of skis and poles leaning against the wall. “Not sure cross-country skiing could be classed as an extreme sport, but you do y- er, suit yourself.”

If Dan tries to reply, he’ll probably swear, so he clamps his mouth shut, and sticks an arm out to grab for the the red skis. Phil snatches them up first.

“I’ll wear these,” he says. “You take the new ones.”

He doesn’t look at Dan, just pushes the shiny new skis into his hands. Bewildered, Dan stares at his warped reflection in the electric blue varnish.

“What? Why?”

It takes a minute for Phil to respond; he’s tugging at the repaired bracket on the red ski, seemingly to test its durability. This alone is enough to make Dan want to slap it out of his hands. Then, he turns to Dan, that vague almost-smile still tucked beneath his smug expression.

“Haven’t tested the new ones out yet,” he says with a shrug. “Reckon it’d be better for my caddy to fall on his face than me, right?”

Dan splutters, outraged. “Caddy?”

“Grab those ski poles for us, would you?” Phil asks, a spritz of amusement perfuming his words.

Dan might be intrigued by the lightness of his tone if it weren’t for the fact he were quietly steaming inside his many layers. The heating in this place does not fuck about. Worried he’ll boil alive unless they get outside soon, Dan chooses to just do as he’s asked. If Phil insists on calling him a caddy again, at least Dan will have four long weapons to wield. Dan gathers the four poles up in his arms as best he can, along with his own skis; on the verge of dropping everything, he opts for speed, and scurries after Phil out of the front door.

“If you expect me to haul all of this up some peak or other-”

Dan can’t see, as he’s got a number of pointed objects obscuring his view, so he doesn’t realise that Phil has stopped directly in front of him, a few paces beyond the door. Dan bumps straight into him, and instantly everything he’s holding drops to the ground. When he looks up, Phil is aiming an exasperated gaze down at the pile of poles and skis, as if he’s already regretting inviting Dan along.

“No, I don’t expect you to actually be my pack mule. We’re going to wear our skis,” Phil explains slowly, like he’s talking to a child.

He’s already got his skis laid neatly out in front of him - two bright red parallel lines striking through the snow. As Dan watches confusedly, Phil pushes the tip of his right boot into one of the skis. Dan’s stomach squeezes with discomfort; he’d been correct before, when repairing the skis. The fastenings are not the same as he’s used to.

“Erm,” Dan says, moving his attention to one of his own skis, laying at an angle in the snow. It has the same unfamiliar fastening, much to his dismay.

Mind racing to figure out every option available to him that doesn’t involve swallowing his pride and asking Phil for help, Dan moves to inspect the contraption. As if he’s sensed Dan’s incompetence, Phil drops into a crouch anyway, and reaches for Dan’s boot. Instinctively, Dan jerks his foot away. Phil lifts his head to look at Dan. Viewing him from this angle is strange. From this perspective, he seems hunched, small, insignificant. He has none of his Lordly airs about him, hunched down in the snow near Dan’s feet. Phil doesn’t say anything, he just waits, hand calmly outstretched towards Dan’s boot. Wordlessly, Dan moves his foot back into Phil’s reach, and watches as Phil carefully rights the ski, then pulls his foot towards it. He fits the toe of Dan’s boot into the unusual strap.

“They’re telemark skis,” Phil says, tightening the strap around the ball of Dan’s foot. “I’m guessing you’re more used to Alpine skis? They’re the ones with the strap at the back as well.”

Dan bristles again at the condescending tone. “I’m familiar with both,” he says, because he’s a stubborn moron. Phil says nothing, but that near-smile returns as he reaches for Dan’s other foot; Dan wobbles slightly as Phil guides it into the left ski. “But, uh, it’s been a while. So... remind me again of the difference between, er, telemark and…”

“Alpine,” Phil supplies, standing up. He holds Dan’s gaze for a moment, and then laughs, short and quiet, but just enough for Dan to catch a glimpse of two rows of pearl-white teeth, with a flash of pink tongue caught between them. It’s the most Dan’s seen him smile yet, though he’s obviously laughing at Dan which isn’t ideal. “Telemark skis are designed so that you can wear them for both hiking and skiing. You can move your ankle in them, see?”

He demonstrates, twisting his un-strapped heel to and fro. Dan tries to do the same, and almost falls over. “Why do we need to use our ankles, exactly?”

Dan doesn’t remember skiing requiring a lot of joint movement. From what he can recall of his brief experience as a teenager, he strapped the skis on, let the lift drag him up a big hill, and gravity did a lot of the work getting him to the bottom again.

Phil is full-on smirking now. Dan thinks he preferred the non-smile. “You may have noticed that we don’t have chairlifts up here. We’ll be hiking to the slopes on foot. I’ve put skins on the bottom of these to give us more grip, but we can take them off when we get there.”

Dan tries not let the alarm show on his face. They’re going to be walking up hills? In skis? “And... I suppose once we ski down the slope we’ll be having to...”

“Walk back up again? Yes. Unless you fancy setting up camp down there.”

An ill-timed image of the Brokeback Mountain tent attacks Dan so viciously it nearly knocks him sideways. “No! No, no. Walking back up. Cool. Good thing I’ve been practicing with those bloody hotel stairs, right?”

Dan forces a laugh, but this time Phil’s face remains unmoved. Clearly it’s only Dan’s unintentional idiocy that can procure a genuine smile from him then, right.

Phil looks to the sky briefly, seeming to assess something in the heavens themselves, and asks, “ready to go, then?”

He doesn’t wait for Dan’s reply. He picks up his ski poles, then turns and begins sort of slide-walking away from the hotel, in seemingly no particular direction. There’s a large thicket of trees ahead of him, but then there are thickets of trees in a few other directions too. Nevertheless, Dan has no choice but to trust this man’s sense of direction, so attempts to move after him; to his horror, his legs immediately split apart in a move he is certainly not flexible enough to achieve. He manages to stab his ski poles into the earth and rectify himself before pulling anything, but in doing so he flails, and almost falls. Luckily, he’s gotten back into a reasonably dignified standing position by the time Phil turns to him, wondering what the hold up is.

“Sorry,” Dan says, making a valiant attempt to copy Phil’s movements exactly as he inches forwards again. It works, sort of, though he doesn’t do it anywhere near as gracefully as Phil seems to be able to. When he gets to Phil, he shrugs, like he’s totally fine. “Just… admiring the view,” he explains. “Lead on.”

It takes over thirty gruelling minutes to cross the plains of the mountain in pursuit of a supposedly safe ski-area, but eventually they reach an abrupt dip, where the mountain begins its gradual slope downward. This close to the edge of the mountain, the view is breathtaking. Dan can’t focus on it, however, because his thighs ache, the moisture in his lungs has turned to ice and is freezing him from the inside out, and for the last twenty minutes, Phil Novokoric has been unhelpfully telling him everything he’s doing wrong with the stupid ‘telemark’ skis.

“Is this where we do some actual skiing then?” Dan asks crossly, jamming his poles into the snow.

He’s so glad to get to a point where he actually knows what he’s doing that he’s already shuffling up to the edge of the slope, more than ready to get this over with. He’s so keen, in fact, that he’s only just about saved from teetering over the edge and hurtling down in an enormous cartoon-style snowball, by a far more sensible Phil. He grabs Dan by the hood of his coat before he can topple to his untimely death.

“Careful!” he exclaims as he yanks Dan backwards. Yet again, the irritating warning is at least ten seconds too late. Dan has already been an idiot; unless Phil expects him to travel back in time to ten seconds ago, and take heed of Phil’s caution. Phil pulls him so sharply that Dan jolts backwards, skis slotting between Phil’s as his back crashes against his chest. His heart pounds incessantly. Or maybe that’s Phil’s heart. “Are you some kind of moron?” Phil asks, then pauses, like he’s actually waiting for an answer. “Just wait a minute, we’ve got to take our skins off. Then I’ll lead the way.”

“Remind me why I agreed to this,” Dan mutters, carefully sliding away from Phil whilst trying not to accidentally fall down the slope.

Sulkily, he stands to the side and watches as Phil removes one ski, and peels a thin black strip from the underside, then does the same to the other. Dan copies his action in silence, though he has no idea why on earth this is necessary. Phil monitors Dan wordlessly, but thankfully makes no judgemental comments.

“Ready?” he asks once Dan has his de-skinned skis back on.

Dan shoves the bunched up skins into his jacket pocket. No. “Yep.”

And then, with enviable ease, Phil pushes himself over the edge of the slope, and begins drifting downwards, swaying gracefully to and fro as he descends. Somewhat alarmed by how quickly that just happened, Dan swallows his nerves and shoots after him. It’s terrifying.

Dan hasn’t experienced this level of self-propelled velocity for years, let alone the searing chill that whips his cheeks, or the sensation of being at once in control of his own speed, and simultaneously ill-equipped to do so. He grips his ski poles tightly, attempting to copy Phil’s swooping motions up ahead, leaning left and right as much as he dares in order to slow his pace. The slope had not looked particularly steep from the top, but Dan should probably have been more concerned about the amount of debris on the path that he has to keep swerving to avoid. Annoyingly, Phil was completely right in insisting he went first, as otherwise Dan would have crashed several times into boulders and tree stumps and icy patches.

It can’t last particularly long, but it seems to Dan that he’s skiing, teeth gritted, eyes frozen open, for hours. Eventually however, the slope evens out, and flattens enough that they slow to a stop. Somewhere in the recesses of Dan’s brain, he scrounges up his knowledge of how to point the tips of his skis together to halt himself. Phil does some kind of impressive, sudden, 90 degree turning move, but he doesn’t outright laugh at Dan’s less stylish method, thankfully.

Dan is just about to collapse to the floor and weep, relieved he survived that and didn’t so much as fall over once, when Phil pulls off his sunglasses, and gives Dan the widest, most brilliant grin. His teeth are as white as the snow surrounding them. Seeing such animation on his usually sullen features is so unexpected that Dan swears his heart literally skips a beat, though that might be on account of all the adrenaline from plummeting down the side of a mountain. Dan removes his own sunglasses, somewhat shakily, and aims a tentative smile back at him.

“Not bad,” Phil says, eyes bright and crystalline in the light. “If you did some fitness training, you might be halfway decent.”

The smile wipes itself away again. “Thanks,” Dan mutters.

“What did you think?” Phil asks, elbow resting on one of his upright ski poles. He’s a tiny bit breathless, which gives his words a whisperish quality. In another setting that wasn’t as eerily silent, it might be difficult to hear him. “Fun, right?”

“I’ll get back to you on that,” Dan replies, heart still pounding at double his normal rate.

Phil chuckles. “This is probably the gentlest path I’ve found.”

“Found?”

“Yeah. I can’t be certain of course, but I doubt anyone else has ever skied up here.” He grins again, jarring and hypnotic. “I’m the Columbus of the Alps.”

This seems highly unlikely. Dan’s no expert in mountaineering, but surely other adventurers have come up and explored the mountain before now. Phil being the first one to ever scope out reasonably skiable pathways seems incredibly dangerous, and probably illegal.

“Are you, like, allowed?”

Phil shrugs, slipping his shades back on. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

It’s this offhanded, entitled flippancy that Dan detests about the rich. He chooses not to respond to such an irritating question, and instead asks, “so, what now?”

“Climb back up,” Phil says, already pulling his skins from his pocket. “Unless you wanna check out one of the trickier slopes?”

“No, thank you,” Dan says tightly.

Phil chuckles again. “Alright then, skins on, Howell.”

In hindsight, Dan should really have given more thought to the idea of climbing back up the hill they’d just skied down, in skis. To say it was difficult would have been generous. By the time they reach the top (it shouldn’t go unmentioned that Phil was much, much quicker than Dan at getting back up, and then shouted helpful suggestions of how he should turn his heels, or dig his skis in to the snow from the summit) Dan is so exhausted he never wants to lift another limb in his life, let alone slide down a hill just to climb it yet again. Phil is raring to go, of course, but Dan simply unfastens his skis and falls back onto his bum, unconcerned that the snow immediately begins seeping into the seat of his trousers, and gestures for the other man to go on without him.

“Suit yourself,” Phil says, snickering, and pushes over the edge.

From his position, Dan is able to watch as Phil airily glides down. It’s obvious, from this vantage point, that skiing gives Phil an air of freedom that he lacks in everyday life. His limbs are loosened of their usual tension, and even from a distance Dan can see that he is calm and happy. As Phil re-climbs the slope, Dan peels off the weird skins from the underside of his skis again and studies them for a bit, then stuffs them into his pocket, deciding they’re just flaps of fabric you could make in five seconds, probably sold in sports shops at an absurd cost. He then attempts to browse the internet on his phone, though given that they’re currently in the middle of absolutely nowhere, this does not go well. He quickly abandons any attempt to check his Facebook feed, and plays Crossy Road until a shadow washes over him. He looks up just as Phil slumps down beside him, panting.

“You’re a bad influence on me,” Phil says between breaths. “Usually I do this about twenty times, up and down. On the steeper slopes, too.”

Dan snorts. “Excuse me, but screw that. Nobody told me there’d be climbing involved. Give me a terrifying ski lift any day.”

“Anywhere there’s a ski lift there’s a hundred tourists crammed on, waiting to dawdle in front of you on the slope on the way down.”

Again, Dan doesn’t remember this being particularly true from his previous skiing experience. On the red and black runs, there were only a handful of other people to avoid. He can see nothing wrong with something being made safe by professionals. Deciding it’s probably wise to keep this thought to himself in order to keep the peace, Dan instead digs the flask of coffee out of his pocket, pulls both the plastic cups off the top, and hands one to Phil.

“So you’ve skied in a lot of places, then?” he asks.

Phil is looking down at the cup like Dan just pulled it out of his rear end. “Er… yeah. Quite a lot.”

Dan ignores the curious expression being aimed at him, and just focuses on pouring out the coffee. He’d remembered at the last minute to bring sugar for Phil, so he digs out the packets from his pocket, and presses them into Phil’s free hand along with a wooden stirrer.

“Cool,” Dan says. “Where abouts?”

For a moment, Phil says nothing. It’s as though he’s forgotten how to move, or speak. Dan just waits, the warmth of the coffee cup in his hands starting to spread through his gloved fingers, melting the stiffness. He sips his own coffee until Phil regains composure and pours the sugar in.

“Uh, lots of places. My family used to go every year at Christmas.” He stirs the coffee slowly, gazing out at the thick, snow-frosted trees lining the slope. “I’ve been to Andorra, Saalbach Chamonix…”

This peaks Dan’s attention. “Chamonix? I’ve been there.”

Phil’s eyes go round. “Oh my God… I knew I recognised you.”

Dan’s stomach drops. “W-what?” Surely this cannot be happening.

“The New Year’s Eve party…” he gushes, placing a hand on Dan’s shoulder. Fuck, fuck, fuck, abort, abort, abort. “There was karaoke... we were dragged on stage to sing a duet…”

For a split second, Dan’s mind is hurtling in circles as he tries to remember any such awful event, and then he notes the twitch of Phil’s mouth, the glimmer of obvious teasing lurking in his expression. Right as Dan’s about to grab a handful of snow and smash it into that obnoxious mocking face, Phil clutches his chest and belts out, “this is the start of something newww!”

Dan groans, eyes rolling so far backwards he can see the folds of his brain. “As if you’re making an actual High School Musical reference right now.”

“Hey, you’re the one that got it,” Phil points out, giggling softly.

“You’re so irritating,” Dan mutters, sipping more coffee.

The snow has officially soaked all the way through his trousers, and his bum has gone entirely numb from the cold. If he has to sit here and listen to Phil’s annoying, posh-boy teasing for a second longer, he’s going to ski directly into a nearby tree.

“Are you supposed to call your guests irritating?”

Dan fights a smile, hiding his mouth in his cup. “Depends how much they piss me off.”

This makes Phil laugh; a sound Dan is sure he will never grow used to. “At least I have a dry bum right now. Your idea of appropriate ski attire is as shocking as your technique.”

“You know what?” Dan says brightly, and stands up. He pretty much instantly regrets doing so as the cold water that’s been soaking his bum for the last half hour trickles down the backs of his thighs. He chucks the remainder of his coffee into the snow, and pockets the cup along with the flask. “Being the official laughing stock of the slopes is not part of my job description. It’s been a blast, Mr Novokoric, but I have a hotel to run, so if you’ll excuse me-”

“Ooh, back to Mr Novokoric, is it?” Phil asks, standing up as well. He drains the last of his own coffee, and gathers his ski poles. “Hang on then, let me-”

“No, no,” Dan says, swishing his ski pole at Phil as he tries to slide closer. “I’m clearly stopping you from throwing yourself down some more death-defying hills or whatever. I can get back to the hotel on my own just fine.”

He shoves his feet back into the skis one by one, thankfully able to tighten them to his feet without help this time, and then awkwardly shuffles around to face the direction they came from. There’s a bit of a hill ahead, but in comparison to the one he climbed up not long ago it looks tiny, so he slides towards it with determination.

“Dan, hold on,” Phil says impatiently, still strapping himself back into his own skis. “You can’t just-”

“I said I’m fine,” Dan says through gritted teeth. In truth however, gaining any sort of momentum on this incline seems a lot harder than it had been previously. “Just go do your thing.”

He’s about halfway up the small hill, and he feels alarmingly unsteady. The skis seem to have a mind of their own, and keep threatening to slide out from under him. Dan just shoves his ski poles into the snow as hard as possible, using them to help drag him upwards.

“Dan,” Phil is calling from somewhere behind him. “Can you stop being so pig-headed for a minute? You’ve forgotten-”

Dan cuts him off with an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp as his right ski slips sharply backwards, splitting his legs wishbone-style. With the help of his ski pole, he manages not to rip his own crotch in half, but the back of his right ski crosses over his left, and in trying to correct it, Dan falls backwards. His right ankle seems to not want to cooperate with the angle Dan is toppling, and twists beneath him; his boot still being attached to the ski, this hurts like a motherfucker.

“Shit! Ow, ow ow-”

Pain, scorching and sudden, shoots up Dan’s leg. His ankle is bent somehow beneath him, and it’s agony. He only has mere seconds to revel in the pain however, as then hands are on the strap of his ski, scrambling to unattach him, and blissfully his ankle pops free.

“I told you to wait for me!” Phil shouts, though the sound is fuzzy and distant from the leftover cloud of pain hazing Dan’s senses. “You forgot to put your skins back on, you idiot.” Dan barely understands, too focused on his throbbing ankle. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes it bloody hurts!” Dan snaps, clutching the ankle. "What kind of idiotic question is that?!”

“Let me see.”

“What? No!”

“Dan, I need to see how bad it is.”

“It’s fine,” Dan protests, but Phil is already picking at the knot of his laces, clearly not listening.

As he reluctantly surrenders to Phil’s insistence on acting the hero, Dan realises for the first time just how… close he is. At this level of proximity, it’s possible to detect notes of the shampoo Phil uses dancing on the thin, icy breeze. Coconut, possibly. Or watermelon? In the distraction of trying to place the smell, Dan doesn’t realise what’s happening until his laces are untied, and Phil begins carefully pulling off his boot. He removes his gloves, and blows quickly on his hands before reaching out and rolling down Dan’s thick sock. Something about this whole scenario is so intimate that Dan wants to squirm. Presumably, he’d only blown on his fingers to warm them - to ease Dan’s discomfort. Dan wouldn’t expect such consideration from his own mother, let alone this dick-brain. To stifle his drumming heart, Dan bites down on his lip, and turns his face away.

“Looks swollen,” Phil mutters as he pulls the sock down. Gently, he presses the pads of his fingers to the puffed, pink skin around Dan’s ankle. It doesn’t hurt any more than the existing pain, but Dan twitches nonetheless, and Phil’s blisteringly blue eyes flick up to his. “It doesn’t feel broken. Do you think you could stand on it?”

Experimentally, Dan tries wiggling his toes. It’s unpleasant, sure, but not completely unbearable. “I’ll try,” he says, attempting bravery.

Phil begins rolling his sock back up. “Good choice,” he says, reaching for the boot. “It’s just you and me up here, so unless you fancy spending the night in minus six degrees under the stars, I’d advise hopping if you can. It’ll start getting dark in a few hours.”

“Gee, thanks for the sympathy,” Dan snorts, batting Phil’s hands away to re-tie his laces.

Phil waits, saying nothing, and when Dan is done, he holds out his hand. For a moment Dan just stares at it. He’s seconds away from slipping his own hand into it, when Phil says, “your skins? I’ll put them back on for you.”

“Oh, right,” Dan says, hoping Phil doesn’t notice his odd behaviour. He has no clue what the fuck this mountain air is doing to him recently. He digs in his pocket and pulls out the skins, then shoves them into Phil’s hand. “Cheers.”

“You’re much more… bony than you look,” Phil huffs.

They’re about halfway through the hideous journey back, as far as Dan can tell. Approximately three minutes in, Dan had realised that attempting to walk on his own, wearing the damn ‘telemark’ skis, was not an option.

“I apologise sincerely for having bones,” Dan replies scornfully. In truth, he feels like a pile of boneless goo, so it’s surprising that Phil seems to think he’s the opposite. His arm is wound around Phil’s shoulders, allowing Dan to lean a great deal of his weight onto the other man. He’s got one ski on, the other is in his right hand. Phil is carrying all four ski poles, tucked under his arm.

They’ve been moving at a torturously slow pace, so the sun is already dipping towards the horizon at their backs. Even in the space of a few hours, Dan can feel the drop in temperature, and it wasn’t exactly warm before. They were lucky, in a way, that Dan’s little accident had happened whilst there was still a lot of light left. He leans closer into Phil’s body heat, hoping the other man doesn’t notice.

“Are you cold?”

Crap. “Um, a bit.”

They hobble further on in silence. Dan wonders what the purpose of Phil’s question might have been, as now he seems to be deliberating something silently. Please, God, don’t say that Phil Novokoric is about to hand over his snow jacket to invalid-Dan so he can tell the story of his chivalry to some doe-eyed journalist months from now.

In a way, Dan is almost glad when Phil, predictably, says, “another reason to invest in some proper thermals. Might have been an idea, considering you’re living up a snowy mountain.”

“Noted,” Dan says through gritted teeth. Finally, the sight of the hotel crests the horizon, some way off still, but at least within view. “Thank the fucking Lord,” he mutters under his breath.

“You could get on my back for the last bit, if you like,” Phil suggests, tone lilting into something like a tease.

“You’re alright, thanks,” Dan replies tersely. He sincerely wishes he could extricate himself from this infuriating human and sprint the rest of the way back, but unfortunately he thinks he might snap his own ankle off, brittle as it is now from the cold. “Can we just focus on getting to the hotel without any further injuries, please?”

“Sure,” Phil says, then effortlessly hitches Dan’s arm a little higher across his shoulders, taking on significantly more of his weight. For a reason Dan refuses to analyse, this action makes his stomach flip multiple times, but he has no time to dwell on the how’s or why’s, because Phil has doubled the pace now, near-dragging Dan along.

(Chapter Seven!)

#phanfic #phan #too high #enemies to lovers au

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