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the-modernmary · 4 years ago

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my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (ch. 5)

Chapter summary: Aaron and the rest of the BAU finally make an arrest on their case, and you spend the weekend at Aaron’s.

Warnings: SMUT, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms

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I had a few, got drunk on you, and now I’m wasted

And when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you tasted

- Harry Styles, “Medicine”

~~~~~~~

The investigation was slow going, and every day when you got off the metro to get to your internship, you would see the undercover van that you knew had BAU members cramped inside, sitting and waiting for somebody, anybody , to slip up and say something incriminating.

It was weird being at work knowing that it was bugged, but it did wonders for your productivity. Whenever Chris or another one of your friends at the office started to ask you about your personal life, you were able to deflect it with a quick “Sorry, I’m in the zone right now, and I’ve really got to focus!” Usually, you had no problem sharing, but you really didn’t want the FBI to have audio evidence of your retelling of you double fisting vodka Sprites the night before until you passed out in your bathtub.

You also hadn’t seen Aaron since that first night together, which was almost a week ago now. The two of you had been texting back and forth pretty consistently, but you quickly found that there was a variable that wasn’t there two years ago - Jack.

You should have realized that, of course , Jack would be living with Aaron now, but it never crossed your mind. Jack used to live with Haley, and Aaron rarely brought him up to you. Now that Jack lived with Aaron, it made things a little more complicated. It also meant that you couldn’t just show up at Aaron’s doorstep whenever you were feeling lonely, or vice versa. After a long and awkward phone call, Aaron and you had both agreed that it was best that Jack just didn’t meet you, just in case he got attached.

“For now, at least,” Aaron had added at the end, and holy shit, you did not have the time to unpack whatever the fuck that meant.

Especially not with Chris throwing a crumpled piece of paper at you like the two of you were in middle school and passing notes.

You held up the ball of paper with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously? You have the desk across from me, you could have just said my name.”

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked you, pointedly ignoring your question. “Nina just got the Catan expansion pack and she wants us all to come over.”

You pursed your lips as you thought about the offer. You did love game nights with your friends, but it was Friday night and you were still holding out on the possibility of Aaron maybe being free and inviting you over. It was almost pitiful how touch starved you were after just a few days of not being with Aaron.

“I’m not sure whether or not I’m busy tonight,” you admitted, maybe speaking a little too loudly in the direction of the listening devices, just in case Aaron was listening in.

Chris gave you a knowing smirk. “Oh, are you waiting to hear from your secret lover?”

“Okay, don’t use the word ‘lover’ again,” you groaned. “And what makes you think that it was anything more than a one night stand?”

“Because when you’re not actively texting, you’ve been checking your phone every 20 minutes.”

Your face turned red as you sunk into your seat, trying and failing to hide yourself. Maybe if you willed it hard enough, the ground would open up and swallow you whole, just to save you from the embarrassment. You hadn’t realized you were checking your phone so often, but you also didn’t doubt it.

“Fine,” you grumbled, deciding that coming clean to your friends was going to be much easier than having to deal with them bringing it up at every moment possible. Besides, you didn’t have to give them all the details. “I will tell everybody all about him, but later . Not now.”

Chris smirked as he leaned back in his chair, obviously proud of himself. You turned back to your work, mindlessly doing edits as you came up with a cover story in your head.

Ran into an old friend, you could say. We got drinks, and then one thing led to another. That could work, except you came to the realization that you didn’t have any photos of Aaron, which would be suspicious if he was an old friend. You would have to look him up, which you were sure would just lead to a slew of FBI ID photos and news articles, which would mean that they’d just do some major googling of their own. You had avoided looking up Aaron, maybe in fear of what fucked up cases he had been involved in, but your friends would not hesitate.

You could come up with something so ridiculous that they would just laugh about it. Yeah, I got a sugar daddy and he made me sign a nondisclosure agreement, sorry! You giggled to yourself just thinking about it. Aaron would probably be mortified at the thought. Although, he did wear a Rolex, so you guessed that anything was possible.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” Chris mumbled, and you just gave a lazy hum as a reply, not really paying attention. “The FBI is here.”

Your head snapped up at that . You whipped your head around so that you could face the entrance, and sure enough, the entire BAU team was walking in like they owned the place, with Aaron in the lead. They all had their FBI vests on, a sight which was way more attractive than it should have been. JJ and Reid stayed at the entrance to make sure nobody got out.

“Everybody, please stay calm,” JJ called out, putting her hands up non threateningly. “Everything is okay, but we need you all to stay sitting exactly where you are.”

A commotion came from the conference room and against your better judgment, you turned your head to watch what was going on. It wasn’t just one person getting arrested, it was every partner. You watched as Aaron spun Julian DuPont around by the wrist and pushed his face down on the conference table and oh, the FBI vest was nothing compared to watching Aaron arrest somebody.

If anybody asked you if you got turned on during an FBI raid, you would vehemently deny it, but watching Aaron take out his handcuffs made your mind flash back to all those times you were in that same position, cuffed and bent over, completely at Aaron’s mercy.

Just as quickly as they came in, the BAU made their arrests and made their way back out. As Aaron passed your desk, his eyes met yours for a brief second and the corner of his mouth quirked up smugly. It was so subtle and quick that even you barely caught it, but you knew that look.

At least you weren’t the only one in this situation with your mind in the gutter.

Once the rest of the BAU was out of the building, JJ and Reid started the process of getting everybody else out of the office so that CSI could come in and finish looking around. When you passed by them, both agents greeted you with a warm smile, like the three of you were old friends.

“Y/N, we’re going to need to get your statement before you go home,” Reid told you as you walked by, and you just nodded in confirmation.

Once you got outside, you were immediately greeted by some agent named Anderson. He needed to get your statement on the work you did with the team, and you quickly gave him the PG version of the story. Your mind, however, was more focused on finding Aaron, who you knew had to be somewhere in the crowd. God, how long did it take to write down a simple statement?

“I’ll take it from here, Anderson. Thank you.”

Aaron’s voice sent shivers down your spine and you spun around to look at him. You brought your bottom lip in between your teeth. “Nice arrest, although I’m surprised. Mr. DuPont doesn’t even drive himself to work, I can’t imagine him waiting out to kill somebody.”

“That’s because he hired hitmen,” Aaron explained. “The victims were all bribing judges to get their cases dismissed, and all of those dismissed cases looked really bad for his prosecuting record.”

You shrugged, placing your hands on his hips. “Probably not as bad as prison, though.”

That actually got a laugh out of Aaron, but he quickly composed himself as another agent walked past the two of you. “Yeah, he’s not going to be practicing law ever again.”

You opened your mouth to say something - maybe to invite him over? You weren’t totally sure - when one of the CSI’s came over to ask Aaron something.

Aaron waved him off, telling him that he would be there in a moment, before turning back to you. “My house will be empty all weekend,” he whispered, looking around to make sure nobody was watching. “Pack a bag, come over.”

Before you could even answer him, Aaron had already taken off. You made your way towards the metro so that you could run home before heading to Aaron’s. You had to fight the smile that was growing on your face when Aaron mentioned packing a bag. Not only was it an unspoken promise of a weekend full of sex, it also meant that he was planning on making room for you to keep some of your stuff at his house. The two of you were quickly falling back into your old routines, and it was weirdly comforting.

When you got to your house, you made a split second decision to change out of your work clothes into a more casual outfit, although it didn’t matter much what you were wearing. It’s not like it was going to stay on for very long. As you packed your bag, you ordered an Uber, knowing it would get you to Aaron’s place faster than the metro.

Sure, you were a little impatient, but it had been so long since you had spent the night at Aaron’s place. It always intrigued you how different it was at his house than it was at yours. You were just staying in a shoebox apartment while you were in college - something liveable and temporary until after you graduated and got a job where you could put actual roots down. Your decor was fairly minimum, an assortment of knick-knacks and photos of your friends.

Aaron’s place was different. It was a certifiable, adult house with framed art and random decorative bowls scattered around. All of his kitchenware was a part of a matching set and his living room looked like all the pieces were picked out by an interior designer. In a weird way, being at Aaron’s house gave you a glimpse of the life you could have in just a few years. Sometimes, it was easy to imagine that you were a part of his world.

You couldn’t think like that, though. Especially not when he greeted you at his door with an eager kiss, pulling you in so that you were pressed against him.

“I’m going to use this entire weekend,” Aaron mumbled against your lips in between kisses. His hands slid up your sides, pulling your shirt off almost immediately. “To thoroughly and completely ruin you, until you can only say my name.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you smiled into the kiss, your fingers already working on the buttons of his shirt. A soft moan escaped your lips, which only encouraged him to deepen the kiss.

The two of you stumbled towards Aaron’s bedroom, only detaching your lips when absolutely necessary and leaving a trail of clothes behind you. You needed to be naked, to feel your bare skin pressed against his. His hands were impossibly everywhere all at once - running up your thighs, cupping your breasts, and gripping your hips so hard that it was bound to leave bruises. Your body burned everywhere he touched and soon all you could think about was him and how badly you wanted him to touch you where it mattered.

Once you got to his bedroom, Aaron pressed you against the wall. You tried to grind against him, but he moved one of his hands onto your hips so that he could hold you in place. His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, sucking just enough to make your back arch. “You have no idea how often I thought of you this week. How hard it was to listen to you and not think about how you sound when you’re begging for me. How badly I needed you.”

Your nail scratched down his back lightly, just enough to elicit a soft hiss from him. “Desperation is unbecoming on you, Aaron,” you teased, knowing that would get a reaction out of him.

It worked. One of his hands stayed on your hip, pressing you firmly against the wall, while his other hand tangled itself in your hair, pulling your head back so that your face was lifted up towards him. He kept you at an arm's distance as his eyes raked your body up and down hungrily.

“I’m desperate?” he said scornfully. “Coming from the girl who is so needy that she couldn’t stay away from her phone for more than a few minutes, just waiting for me to want you. I could have called you at any time, and you would have dropped everything just to let me use you, isn’t that right? You’d let me do anything to you, just like the filthy slut you are.”

You visibility gulped at his statement but you nodded obediently, which earned you a sharp tug of your hair.

“Yes, Aaron, fuck ,” you gasped out. “I would have let you do anything at any time, just please…”

Aaron gave you a predatory grin as the hand on your hip slowly made its way up your stomach until it cupped your right breast, thumbing lightly over your nipple. It wasn’t enough to get any real pleasure, but it made you moan all the same.

“You did such a good job this week,” he murmured, looking at you almost worshipfully like he wanted to commit you to memory. “I was going to give you whatever you wanted tonight. But maybe that would make me too desperate .”

You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but it was no use. “I- I-” you stuttered out. You couldn’t think straight.

“I- I-,” Aaron mocked. “I thought you were a lot more intelligent than that. Come on, Y/N, whatever you want. Use your words. Unless pleasure’s turned you into a stupid whore.” He punctuated the last word with a light spank to your clit, which made you cry out and your legs instinctively try to close.

“I want you to use your mouth,” you begged, arching your back in a pitiful attempt to create some form of contact. Your shoulders pressed against the wall was the only thing keeping you upright.

“Where?” he asked all too casually.

Your breathing was still shaky at best, but you forced yourself to make eye contact with Aaron. He looked back at you expectantly, waiting patiently for your answer.

You slowly raised your hand to point to your left breast, which so far had been woefully ignored. “Here,” you said hesitantly, not sure whether or not he was going to tease you. While Aaron always gave you what you asked for eventually, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make you beg for it first.

To his credit, however, Aaron immediately bent down and attached his mouth to your nipple, his teeth gently scraping over the sensitive flesh. His eyes never left yours, he wanted to watch your reaction.

Feeling more confident, you cupped the sides of his face and pulled him off you, and the sound it made was obscene. “I want you to eat me out,” you whispered, blushing as you said it. “I want to feel myself cum on your face, please .”

Aaron smirked as he slid down to his knees, kissing all the way down your stomach. “Good girl, you asked so nicely,” he mumbled against your skin and it sent shivers up your spine. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, giving him a perfect few of your pussy, slick with your arousal. “Look at you, dripping down your thighs before I’ve even started. Desperation is unbecoming on you, Y/N,” he mocked. He was using your words against you, and you didn’t even care. You just wanted him to do something, anything.

Aaron ran a finger through your folds, ghosting over your clit. You hips bucked, desperate for more contact, but his finger was already gone. “Look at me,” he ordered, and as soon as you did, you were greeted with the image of Aaron admiring the wetness that was covering his finger. Then he stuck the finger in his mouth, smirking as he did, and you moaned out at the sight. “You taste so good, Y/N.”

“Please, Aaron, I need you to- oh! ” you begged, but you were cut off by Aaron licking a strip up your center, still avoiding your clit.

His hands came around and grabbed onto your ass as he got to work, lapping through your folds. You tangled your hands in his hair, rocking your hips against his mouth, craving more . His tongue teased at your clit, humming every once in a while in a way that sent vibrations throughout you. Without warning, he pushed two fingers into you curling them in just the right spot.

As Aaron’s fingers pumped in and out of you, his lips focused solely on your clit. He flicked it once with his tongue before sucking, relishing in the way you moaned out his name. You tightened your grip in Aaron’s hair as your first orgasm hit you, your whole body shaking and a string of expletives leaving your mouth. But that didn’t stop Aaron.

He added a third finger and replaced his mouth with his thumb on your clit. “You’re going to give me another one,” he practically growled. “And then I’m going to fuck you until you’re a whining mess. This is what you asked for isn’t it?”

When you didn’t answer right away, he turned his head to the side and bit down on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, causing you to cry out. He sucked on that same spot for a little before dragging his tongue over the newly formed bruise.

“Yes, I want that, Aaron,” you cried out. “I want you .”

He reattached his lips to your folds with newfound vigor, making tight circles around your clit. His free hand snaked up your sides to your breast, pinching and twisting at your nipple. You continued to beg, although you weren’t sure what you were begging for exactly. All you knew was that you were so full of want , want for your second orgasm, and want for Aaron.

Aaron fucked you with his fingers with ease, as if he had all the time in the world. You ground down on him again, chasing your orgasm the best you could. Your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure, but you needed more. You opened your eyes, only to be met with Aaron’s blown pupils, eyes full of desire. You could almost feel his smirk as he wrapped his lips around your clit and pulled .

The heel of your foot dug into his back as you cried out, your second orgasm twice as intense as your first one. Aaron’s fingers kept pumping into you lazily, and even your panting couldn’t cover the filthy sounds it was making. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs.

Aaron slowly removed his fingers from you and lightly swiped them over your clit once more as he stood up, which almost made you completely lose your balance, a sob tearing from your mouth.

He held his glistening fingers in front of your mouth and you opened obediently, moaning as you tasted yourself on him. Your tongue swirled around his fingers, making sure to clean every trace of you off him.

Aaron removed his fingers from your mouth. “Do you have one more in you?” he asked, and it was softer than you were used to. “It’s okay if you don’t. We have all weekend.”

“I need your dick in me,” you said in lieu of an answer. “Please, please fuck me.”

Aaron pulled you to his bed and you all but collapsed onto your back, your legs still shaking from your back to back orgasms. Aaron crawled on top of you, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake, all the way from your stomach to your mouth.

“You’re so beautiful when you come for me,” he whispered, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock. All of his movements were gentle, bordering on caring. “Yelling out my name so that everybody can hear that you’re mine .”

He pressed into you slowly, his first few thrusts shallow, and you could see that it was taking all of his willpower to keep teasing you like this. You dragged your nails down his back, not caring if it left marks on him.

“Aaron,” you whimpered, bucking your hips to try and get more movement. “Please fuck me. I need more.”

Aaron was always good at giving you what you wanted.

His hips snapped into you harshly, and you had to attach your lips to his shoulder to keep from screaming out. Aaron thrusted into you hard and fast, wanting to feel every inch of you. He stretched you in all the best ways and your back arched off the bed. You were holding on to Aaron like a lifeline, and all he could do was grunt out your name over and over, repeating it like a prayer.

Your third orgasm came fast, spreading through your body like a wildfire, and you could feel the tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the overstimulation. Aaron’s thrusts became more desperate and harsher as he felt you squeeze around him. He dropped his head to your shoulder, his breathing ragged and you could tell that he was so close-

“Cum for me… Fill me up,” you purred into Aaron’s ear, and that’s all it took for him to finish, holding himself deep inside you as his warmth filled you. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, both trying to catch your breath. You brought your head up to kiss Aaron, slowly and deliberately and filled with… something . You couldn’t figure out what it was yet.

Aaron pulled out of you slowly and flopped onto the bed next to you, but he reached over and held your hand. The two of you laid like that for several moments, giving yourselves time to come back down to reality. Finally, Aaron rolled on his side to check on you. You admired the flush on his body, especially as it rose to his cheeks and made him look like he was practically glowing.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on your hand. “Can I do anything?”

You turned your head to smile at him, giving his hand a squeeze, before sitting up. Aaron was always so careful about aftercare, which you were immensely appreciative of. “Oh, I’m fine, I’m just going to go to the bathroom. A UTI might ruin the mood,” you joked.

When you returned, Aaron was already in a pair of pajama pants and sitting in bed. He had also laid out one of his shirts for you, which caused your stomach to do flips. Despite the fact that you actually did pack pajamas, you chose to wear his shirt. You could feel his eyes watching your every movement as you made your way back into bed, leaning back against the headboard.

Aaron placed an arm around your shoulders and you leaned into him, catching his lips in another kiss, this one soft and sensual. You placed your hand on his bare chest as the kiss deepened, and Aaron’s fingers ghosting over your skin sent shivers down your spine.

“So,” you murmured against his lips. “What are your plans for me this weekend?” It was partially a joke, but you wanted to be as prepared as possible for just how sore you were going to be on Monday after an entire three days of being thoroughly wrecked by Aaron.

Aaron’s lips curved up into a smile as he dropped a kiss on the top of your head, letting his lips linger for just a second too long. “Hm, we can play it by ear. Although, I was thinking Indian for dinner tomorrow night?”

You were too old to get butterflies, but there was something so soft and so sincere in his reply that it made your stomach do flips. Aaron yawned, probably not even giving a second thought to his reply, and pulled you in closer to him.

“Yeah,” you conceded, closing your eyes. “Indian sounds good.” You could deal with the butterflies later.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #my best habit #my writing

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internalsealpanic · 5 years ago

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Fabulous Friday Evenings

Summary: You were having a really bad day. Conner decides to help cheer you up and make sure your drunk ass doesn’t face plant on the side walk.

masterlist

word count: 2,652

a/n: Special thanks to @anothertimdrakestan for helping with the ending and helping with editing! Love you, Elle!

warnings: alcohol and swearing and author does not know how alcohol works. No one is under the drinking age. This may benefit from more editing.

"Mosht people are jusht the careful scaffolding of complexshesh," you slurred, your face red, head half buried in your arms, and golden ear cuffs winking under the dim bar lights.

"You somehow still sound like a fucking nerd even you're when drunk," Conner laughed throwing his head back, handsome face stretched with a cheeky smile. "You look like a mess," he said softly, reaching out for your cheek.

"Fuhk you! Not eberyone can be born too pretty for their own guhd- how did yah evehn know I was here? It was Tim wasn't it! "

"Good guess buuuut it was actually Bart" Conner explained casually taking a seat next to you as you lifted your head momentarily before plopping it back down to stare at the amber gloss of the drink. The light from the ceiling seemed to dance so elegantly in your eyes even as you wrinkled your brows. "That rat," you cursed miserably into your arm.

Across from you, a pretty brunette shot you two a wink and without looking you could tell Conner flirted in kind. Normally, you'd have the audacity to steal the girl's attention away before Conner could even make a proper move but tonight you were in absolutely no mood to be charming. In fact, you were sloshed. You didn't know whether it was the fourth or fifth drink that did it but there you were sitting next to one of the most attractive people he knew with your makeup smeared and eyes still swollen and puffy. You kind of just want a portal to open up and swallow you.

The brunette made a motion to her friends which indicated that she was gonna try her luck and you wished her the best of luck. You bit your soft lips before pressing them into a pout. It took everything in Conner not to kiss you on the spot. Be the responsible one they said. It would be fun, they said.

"We should go. You're-"

"Have fun," you said, patting him on the shoulder, cutting him off curtly; placing some cash on the bar before leaving. The buxom brunette approached Conner placing a hand on the shoulder you’d just touched moments before. He didn’t seem to notice her, his mind still lingering on the warmth of your hand. Before she can say anything, he pivots and runs towards you .

The casual slump in your shoulders in place of your usual elegance was a pretty good indication that you would probably fall in a gutter before you got home. Conner highly doubted you could see straight.

"I can’t believe Roz let you get this sloshed without checking on you," He joked bringing one of your arms over his shoulder and slinging his own arm around you for balance. You walked like a newborn horse. It was incredibly embarrassing and you wanted to die. Conner, on the other hand, just found it incredibly hilarious.

"She's out getting into her own brand of sloshed at a bachelorette party,"

"Huh. Didn't know she was the wedding type. Thought she hated going to those,"

"She's the stripper," You deadpanned, sounding abnormally sober. With that Conner let out a genuinely hearty laugh. You would trade all the martinis, dackories, and margaritas in the world just to get drunk on that laugh.

"That reminds me," Conner drawled, adjusting his hold feeling just how shaky you were from the late October Metropolis weather pressing you closer to his warm body. You kind of wanted to melt into his side but you had too much pride. "Bart never said why you were out here getting shit faced," You frowned at him but couldn't really muster any sharpness into your expression.

There were lots of reasons to get 'shit faced' even in shiny Metropolis. You twitched your nose and mouth side to side gathering the makings of a sentence. Where do you even start? Your little sister got suspended, your mother (who somehow found out you were in Metropolis) is either demanding money or for you to drop everything to go back home to help around the house (translation: help out with the bills while babysitting your siblings), Bats and some other league members were on your ass for the last mission (probably the only thing on this list you found reasonable), this morning, you got fired from your library job so they could hire Marco's girlfriend (who is in fact a perfectly nice person which means you can't really hate her), or the dozens of little annoyances such as Bart not being able to keep his trap shut.

"This week was just a little much,"

A long moment of silence passes between you. Uncharacteristic for Conner but it was cute that he thought silence would make you fess up.

"You know I could have gone home on my own. That brunette looked like she was up for a good time,"

"Yeah right. Also you're welcome."

"You're right. Thank you for getting blue balled this fine evening to escort me" you didn't want to be prickly but Conner was being too nice and that made your skin crawl. Why couldn’t he be mean to you right now like a normal person?

"First off, she wasn't even my type-" You raised a brow.

"Kon, her tits were the size of Jupiter-"

"Did you really just say 'tits'?"

You threw him a scowl clearly sobering up from irritation.

"Shut up. Point iiiis, you didn't have to-"

"You just said-"

"Oh for the love of- yes, I said tits. Speaking of which you should be staring at some instead of having to lug my sorry ass around on this fabulous Friday evening." Your hand fluttering, gesturing vaguely in the air.

"Eh. There'll be other Fridays" Kon shrugged. Pulling you closer and some selfish part of you felt relieved.

----------

Much to your surprise (you really ought not to be), Roz wasn't home yet which meant you had to dig out the keys from the secret hiding spot- another hassle. You reached out peeling a hilariously well concealed hole in the wall and fished out the set of jingling keys. Conner looked like he was between amusement and bewilderment. Good enough. At least, this stopped Conner's 30 minute TED Talk about the new 70s sitcom he'd found.

You two entered the shoe box apartment clumsily thanks to your disastrous limbs.

You blew out a breath and muttered a thanks as Conner helped you plop onto the couch. Though, it was more like gravity decided to magnetize your body to the couch and Conner just let it happen.

You shut his eyes for a moment wrapping a ragged blanket around you. You made a mental note to raid the thrift store for a new one. Preferably one void of holes.

"So what's up and don't you dare say it was nothing. I've never seen you this hammered before," He said handing you a mug of steaming hot chocolate.

"Does it occur to you that I might get hammered like this often and you might just not see it? Who knows maybe I'm actually a functional alcoholic?"

"Ok, first off, you are barely functional. Second, that might be your weakest deflection yet. Try again,"

"Ok... did it occur-"

"I didn't mean it lite- just tell me what happened. Everyone's worried,"

You stared at the steam rising from the fresh cup of cocoa. It was none of Conner's business. It was no one’s business. Your friends were too goddamn nice. Blowing out another breath, you said "You might wanna sit down too,"

Conner takes his own mug of hot cocoa and sits next to you because for some reason eye contact made you a better liar and Conner for all his dumb decisions wasn't gonna let you off the hook that easily. You shifted uncomfortably and muttered about either Cassie or Roz ratting you out. He assumed it was the eye contact thing. Conner felt a little offended. He might not be Tim but he’s smart enough to figure it out on his own. Despite his hurt feelings and bruised ego, he decided to table that and focus on the current issue or, likely, issues.

"Do you want it in alphabetical order?"

"Please tell me you can actually do that," Conner teased with a wide grin. You couldn’t fight off a smile forming on your face. "Sadly, I am not Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. My brain cells work like a normal person's,"

"Didn't you die?"

"Death only fixes stupid when you stay dead. You've seen Red Hood and whichever other Ex-Robin has been to the pearly gates,"

"You say that as if Jason wouldn't tell the big man to fuck off,"

You blinked and turned your head up to the ceiling. "Ok that's true," You conceded, your mouth twitching rapidly from side to side making you look like an exasperated rabbit. Cute.

"So what's up?"

All the good mood from the past few minutes dissipated in an instant. You looked down solemnly at the still steaming mug. You were silent for what felt like an eternity.

"It's family- Immediate. And the source of all evil-"

"Lex Corp?"

You snorted a shy tired smile cracked across your face. You shook your head. Those little gestures just make Conner feel a little warmer. You, on the other hand, cursed at how easily Conner could make you laugh. You were supposed to be sad damn it.

"Money," Conner knew immediate family was always a sore spot for you. No one knew the specifics except Roz but that was inevitable when you're cousins. Money was also a sore spot and based on your near dead tone. You’ve either lost a lot of it or you’re in a tight spot but not ready to elaborate.

"Wanna try buying a lottery ticket?"

"What?"

"Who knows you might get lucky?"

"You could have gotten lucky you if you-"

"Are you seriously gonna keep bringing that up?"

"Yes, most likely. Depends,"

"On what?!"

"On whether I can think of something funnier to give you shit about or if you can convince me-whatever the fuck you're thinking of doing stop!"Conner's cheeky grin did not disappear nor did the faint flush on your cheeks.

"I wasn't thinking of anything, you sick pervert" he laughed. You really should have been exasperated with Conner. You tried damn it. You looked at him skeptically before violently letting his head rest on Conner’s shoulder causing the other boy to fall over.

"Aaaaaaawwwww babe , if you wanted to cuddle you could have just said so,"

You wanted to. In fact, both of you wanted to. But unfortunately neither of you were martian and neither of you was willing to say jack. You closed your eyes trying to pretend Conner wasn't a little shit. Conner radiated too much smug for that though.

"Shut up," You mumbled into Conner's shoulder already feeling sleep pull him under. You clung to him. Maybe just for tonight you can indulge in this. Just for a little while you can cling to Conner's warmth. Maybe in the morning your head will ache too much to remember this. Waking up alone wouldn't be too painful then. Hopefully.

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

You woke up feeling like a troop of Can Caning hippos decided to host a live performance all over your head. You sighed remembering that you had in fact run out of Aspirin just days before so you decided on just lying there and praying that Roz also needed Aspirin and had more energy to run to the store.

You settled in nuzzling in to the warm-

Wait. It was October.

Nothing in the apartment should be warm.

NOTHING.

Then, you heard it. A LOUD snore. It honestly sounded more like the roar of an engine than anything. Everything else followed. The slow rising and falling of the chest beneath you, the press of stubble against your forehead, and the strong arms loosely wrapped around you.

Yeah. You died again. Yeah. You finally went to heaven. Yup. You were ok with that. You were definitely 100% A Ok with this if this was heaven. Being held tenderly by the guy you liked while you got a good night’s sleep was definitely heaven. God, you were such a sap.

How the hell you missed all of that baffled you.

Oh wait. Dancing hippos. Fuck.

Your head felt like it was threatening to crack open but somehow you honestly could not mind even if you tried. You were laying on top of a hot (literally and metaphorically) guy mutually cuddling. You nuzzled into the junction between Conner’s neck and shoulder in an attempt to steal more warmth. Sure, you were probably gonna go deaf from the snoring. Sure, you were definitely irritated by the stubble pressed against your face. And sure, you would probably die of embarrassment once Conner woke up. You could worry about all that later. All you could think about was how nicely your arms fit around Conner’s neck and how Conner’s arms wrap around you a little tighter in return.

Click.

You could hear the distinct sound of your own camera shutter. Each sound chipped away at your peace of mind. You lifted your head only to see Roz holding your camera.

TAKING PICTURES.

Your cousin was nothing if not a petty opportunist.

“I would tell you to get a room buuuut the only bedroom iiiiis preeeeeeetty occupied,” Roz drawled smugly way too pleased with herself. You opened his mouth to ask but you’d already made the mistake of walking in on Roz and a guest once and you were pretty sure you needed more therapy for that than you did for your murder. You just sighed as Roz took another picture.

“Come on, (y/n), smile a little,”

“I’m not smiling for your blackmail material,”

Roz gasped trying to sound scandalized. She failed, only sounding amused beyond belief. “It’s only blackmail if you’re ashamed of it. Personally, I think you’re scoring big time,”

“Roz please just fuck off before you wake him up,”

“Too fuckin’ late for that. He’s been awake for awhile,”

You could feel Conner smiling into your hair and his arms wrap around you a little tighter. You tried to straighten up. To tower over him. To look intimidating.

But…. you couldn’t. You were kind of trapped because, yanno, super strength.

You were seething and threw a scowl at Conner who only chuckled at you in response.

“You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?” You snarled, clearly exasperated and feeling the hippos start their encore performance.

“ Mmmmmm, it depends,” Nope. The hippos did not only come back for an encore. They brought friends. Based on the absolutely smug look on Conner’s face, you were in for an entire parade.

You let out a breath not sure if you wanted to play this game but not really seeing any other options. “On what?“

Conner paused and hummed and hummed and hummed some more as if he was actually thinking but you knew from the crook of his lips that he had this planned out. Maybe not this exact scenario but something close“Go out on a date with me,”

You blinked then rolled your eyes theatrically enough that your head rolled along with it. “And be seen with you in public?” You teased, an almost sheepish smile tugging at your features.

Yeah, Conner wasn’t exactly expecting you to say yes.

“Yeah. Sure. Why not?” You said playing it off as casually as possible but you couldn’t help but mirror the absolutely goofy grin plastered on Conner’s face. His happiness was infectious. You felt weightless. It was probably the fact that you were floating with him but you were pretty sure you were just on cloud nine. You were doomed. Definitely, inevitable, indubitably doomed. Even though everything has been shit up to now. The happiness radiating off of Conner was enough to make everything feel a little better.

Thank you so much for reading!

tag list:

@idkmanicantenglish

@batarella (I thought you might like it?)

#conner kent x reader #conner kent #conner kent imagine #My writing #dc fanfiction #DC comics #kon el x reader #kon el imagine

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moondustaeil · 5 years ago

Text

nct ⥂ twenty-one ways to kiss

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ✧☾.·:·. twenty-one ways to kiss

⋅ genre: little soft hour collection w fluff, angst, a bit of everything

⋅ inspiration: here

⋅ members: taeil → jungwoo (in age order, pt2 soon)

ｍｏｏｎ ⋅ ｔａｅｉｌ

⠀〔 5 : 12 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss casually

“Come to me~” Taeil sang out loud as he opened his arms widely, ready to receive you like he would receive his birthday presents. His arms opened until you dropped your body in his welcoming arms, then his arms prevented you from walking out of them. “It’s Taeil time,” he said with a small grin as he thought about sitting on the sofa without doing any chores or other time-consuming things. “What about me?” you asked with a small smile as you turned towards him more, unable to hide your smile at the cute expression on his face. Taeil seemed to consider your words, even though you knew he would never have to consider adding your name right next to his. “Okay fine,” he said with a fake sigh, stealing a casual kiss from your soft lips “It’s y/n and Taeil time”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｓｕｈ ⋅ ｊｏｈｎｎｙ

⠀〔 7 : 54 am 〕

⋅ a kiss to wake yours up

Johnny’s fingertips burned against his closed eyes as he began to rub the sleep out of them, the bittersweet feeling caused a small groan to escape from his lips. Adjusted or not, Johnny opened his eyes to stare towards the other side of his bed, the place where you were still ‘gracefully’ asleep. “Morning” Johnny spoke out as tiredness was like a string of saliva that fell from his lips, his body turned towards you to admire you as you slept. As adorable as your cheek was when it was squished against the white pillow, you were even more adorable with your eyes open and a smile on your lips. The sheets shuffled quietly as he leaned over and pressed a delicate kiss upon your lips, a soft kiss to wake you up.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｌｅｅ ⋅ ｔａｅｙｏｎｇ

⠀〔 5 : 16 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss on a scar

“They edited it out again,” Taeyong said while his eyes scrolled just as fast as his fingertips did through the collection of new pictures. It only took one look at the corner of his eye: he knew himself well enough, but at the same time knew photographers and magazines well enough. To others, it was an imperfection, and Lee Taeyong himself was a part of that group as well. To you, it didn’t count as imperfection, neither did it count as ugly or any other negative label. “It’s a shame, it only makes you more beautiful,” you pointed out, trying to catch a glimpse of the little scar but he was fast enough to turn away. “Don’t hide it, it makes you more you” you said soft, making his head turn towards you again as he listened attentively. Your lips placed themselves against the unedited scar, leaving a delicate kiss to linger there.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｎａｋａｍｏｔｏ ⋅ ｙｕｔａ

⠀〔 9 : 03 am 〕

⋅ a kiss out of habit

“I have to go now y/n” Yuta complained as his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes were on you as you just nodded from your position on the sofa. Your response caused him to huff, staying frozen in his spot which made it seem like he wasn’t able to move. “y/n!” He said, his voice getting louder as his arms finally opened themselves up to give away what he needed before he could walk out of the door. “Quick kiss” he muttered once you were finally in his arms, his lips pressing some tiny kisses on yours. Yuta simply needed his usual kiss before he could leave

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｑｉａｎ ⋅ ｋｕｎ

⠀〔 8 : 46 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss to shut them up

“Do you think we have everything?” Kun asked you as his eyes scanned the suitcase for the third time that evening, the slowness of his eye movement made it obvious how each object seemed to go past his checklist before he could move on. “We already checked everything, I bet we do. It’s only a weekend away” you said, stating your point in a gentle voice before Kun got worked up over the many worries he had in his mind. You sat down behind him, your arms wrapping around his body as both of you now were crouched next to the suitcase. “Stop worrying,” you said, earning a small moment of eye contact from him. His lips parted as he was about to add another point to already long list, but before he could, you pressed a little kiss on his lips...perhaps to shut him up, or out of love...

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｋｉｍ ⋅ ｄｏｙｏｕｎｇ

⠀〔 7 : 55 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss virtually

The waiting room was crowded: with eight other members and a bunch of staff filling every little bit of personal space Doyoung wanted. The time went by slowly as each time he unlocked his phone, only a minute or two had passed from the last time he checked. Another text caused his screen to light up: the standard iPhone wallpaper hiding his relationship with you, but then again, his notification space was now filled with the text from you.

y/n 💕 [7:55 pm] : I miss you but I hope you do well today. Don’t forget to have fun! 😘

doyoung [7:55 pm] : I love you 🥰

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｔｅｎ

⠀〔 10 : 01 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss as an apology

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Ten said right after a small string of insulting words towards you had fallen from his lips, his eyes merely trying to come in contact with yours as he knew you would decline. Like he expected, you didn’t say the words he wanted to hear, nor the words he didn’t want to hear. Rather than looking down in sad silence, he gave up his pride and walked up to you, a hand reaching out for you. “I’m sorry, I really am. Sorry for saying those things and for hurting you with them” he said as his hand lifted your hanging one, holding it tightly to represent the bond you shared. The hint of a small and yet smile appeared on your lips, a hint he took immediately. He leaned towards you, pressing tiny kisses all over your face like he would usually spoil your ears with whispered apologies...

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｊｕｎｇ ⋅ ｊａｅｈｙｕｎ

⠀〔 00 : 14 am 〕

⋅ a kiss without motive

“Do I still look like your prince charming?” Jaehyun asked you teasingly as he looked at your face through the mirror, a small chuckle making bubbles fall from his structured face when he noticed how your face was covered in bubbles. A hum was heard in the bathroom as you had to fake your thoughts for a second but nodded your head almost right away. “Of course, wouldn’t want to do facemasks with anyone but my prince charming” you simply said, giving it no other explanation in the teasing moment. His face leaned closer to yours once you had spoken, tiny bubbles colliding and becoming one as your lips touched in a kiss...

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｄｏｎｇ ⋅ ｓｉｃｈｅｎｇ

⠀〔 8 : 29 am 〕

⋅ a kiss in secrecy

“Good morning” Sicheng whispered to you after you had already said the words to him, a tired smile gracing his pink lips. He lifted the sheets from your bodies, pulling them up higher until they covered up your existence to the decorated room. A small laugh left your lips in confusion but didn’t question it further as you were enjoying the little bit of privacy, shielded from a new day that would start. Sicheng’s lips pressed over the soft skin of your face: from the tip of your nose, to one of your warm cheeks, ending with a kiss on your lips.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｋｉｍ ⋅ ｊｕｎｇｗｏｏ

⠀〔 10 : 43 am 〕

⋅ a kiss in joy

“Where are we going?” Jungwoo whined out as he kept his eyes unnecessarily closed whilst he was walking hand in hand with you, through the streets of familiar Seoul. “It’s not a surprise, Jungwoo!” you said, playfully rolling your eyes now that he couldn’t see the gesture anyway. Though you rolled your eyes, you enjoyed the playful part of your boyfriend: the way he could laugh at his own silliness and make you laugh as well. Once you arrived at the destination you hadn’t spoken out loud of, you opened the door and led him inside. By then, curiosity had taken him over and made him peek lightly at what was in front of him. “The dog café? Seriously! We’re at the dog café” he said cheerfully as he grabbed your arms and pulled you against him, his eyes on the little puppies as he pressed his lips to your cheek.

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overheardatthecontinental · 5 years ago

Text

Talk Chapter 7

AO3

Helen learns about the hit that’s been ordered

John addresses the guilt that’s holding him down

John packs up quickly, filling the car pretty much to the brim, holding on to the knowledge that he really doesn’t know when he’ll come back.

By putting a contract out on Helen, it was no longer a matter of killing DeLuca and ending this. The contract was open. Whether he was dead or alive, people would come for her.

And while dead was the only way John wanted to see Mateo DeLuca, the fact remained that only he could remove the bounty on Helen. DeLuca, he thinks, or the High Table.

But the High Table wasn’t going to give a shit that Helen Kingston was a civilian. That she hadn’t done anything.

A hit was a hit.

He isn’t sure how he’s going to fix this.

John goes back down to the basement, to his workshop, and found a book hidden among the masses. It’s a newer book that stands out among his bookbinding collection. Larger than most.

He selects it and heads back to the main floor. John lays it open and takes out his phone to prepare to send the message.

As technology got better, so had hackers. Even phones issued by the Continental were subject to being hacked or tracked. He, Marcus, and Sofia had set up a failsafe years ago.

Even if the phone was hacked, it would take years to crack the code they came up with.

He opens the book and finds the first letter he needs, capitalized. He types in the page number, followed by the line that the word is located on, and finally counts out how many words into the line it is.

John hears Helen’s footsteps on the stairs and spares a glance upward. She has a tower of books piled into her little hands. He withholds a smirk and instead, shakes his head. “Just those?”

“This is as many as I can safely carry.” She replies, walking towards him and setting the books on the side of the table, “But rest assured, I’ll be back to steal more.”

He says nothing to that because he can say nothing. Every plan he’s had is screwed up now. His original thought, to separate himself from her, is in shambles now that every assassin in New York knows her name.

She peeks at his phone, “Is that an Ottendorf cipher?”

John feels himself inhale sharply. Why does she have to know that?

It’s such a small thing, really, but she says something like that and his heart starts to stutter in his chest, making him all the more aware of just how much he loves her. He loves her and he can’t have her.

But she says that and he’s lost.

“Yes, but modified. Do I want to know how you know about Ottendorf’s?” John asks, instead.

“I was a paranoid child.” She says, glancing over the book he has chosen, lifting the cover without closing the page to better assess. “All my childhood diaries were written in some kind of code.” She glances up at him, a small smile on her face, “I made up my own cipher when I was eleven to pass notes to my friends in school.”

It occurs to him that she’s never mentioned her own childhood before. Of course, he knows a bit. Between his actual stalking and the time spent on the Continental database, finding every piece of information on Helen Kingston, he was bound to find some things.

Like citations from Elementary school where she got her class to mutiny against a teacher or the handful of detentions she got for backtalk.

But they’ve never talked about her early life before.

Their lines had always been blurred but this was one they hadn’t crossed.

John glances back to his book, “Quite the little rebel.”

She shrugs, “We talked about it last week. What are rules in the face of meaninglessness?”

“And here I thought we were stepping away from nihilism.”

“You’re stepping away from nihilism.” She corrects, “I’m quite content with the idea that there’s no plan or grand design.”

His lips twitch, “There’s still some food left in the kitchen if you want to grab something before we go.”

She hoists her books back up, “Alright. I’m going to drop these in the car first.”

John nods, continuing to compose his message. The Ottendorf cipher was difficult to crack because not only did you need the right book, you needed the right edition, the right printing. It was also a bitch to decode because it required time and accuracy. He, Marcus, and Sofia even took it a step farther by using the first letter of every word rather than using the word itself and often wrote in shorthand.

That said, it was a bitch to put together.

He manages to type out the address of his safehouse and hits send.

John types up a quick message to Winston that he was going off the grid until further notice as he goes back up the stairs. He changes quickly, forgoing the suit for something more casual. Jeans and a t-shirt are oddly discomforting but a three-piece suit would stick out in the middle of nowhere.

Once changed, he checks his phone one last time before powering down.

By the time he finishes, Helen is outside, leaning against the car, eating an apple.

He makes a mental note that they’ll need to stop and pick her up some new clothes because the sight of her dressed in his makes it hard to breathe.

“Ready?” He asks.

She nods, pushing off the car and opening the passenger side door. “Do I want to know about the matching holes in the windows?” She asks as she climbs in.

“Probably not.” He admits.

Helen shoots him a smirk as she buckles in. He’s grateful when she dives into one of the books she had brought rather than asking him questions. He’s still not sure how to broach the subject.

She knows something is wrong, he’s certain, but she hasn’t asked.

Not that he’s offered information. He wants to keep it from her, to protect her for just a little bit longer but he can’t. It’s not fair to her.

Every so often, he catches her looking up from her book, checking road signs and overhead passes that give off locations, directions.

Her curiosity is palpable but, even now, she’s playing the therapist. Not pushing, just waiting for him to get there on his own.

It’s not right. She shouldn’t have to do all the work for them. He tries to bring it up, pushes himself to say something, anything, the next time she looks around curiously.

Half an hour passes.

Then an hour.

Then two.

He gives himself until the clock on the dashboard hits the hour mark. Then he watches as that arbitrary deadline passes, too.

At quarter past, she looks up at one of the signs and he forces himself to choke out the word, “Vermont.”

Helen looks over at him, an eyebrow raised. “Vermont?” She repeats.

He nods, “I have a safehouse there.”

She looks back at the road ahead of them, “Are you ready to talk about it?”

No, he thinks. But it doesn’t matter. They need to talk about it. She needs to know what’s going on.

What was the expression she used? Quick, like a band aid?

“DeLuca put a hit on you.”

He glances over, gauging for a reaction and is met with a simple nod. “How much?”

That, John thinks, should not be her primary concern but he answers anyway, “Four million.”

That makes her head shoot up, repeating the number while staring at him, “Four million dollars?”

He nods, once.

“Jesus.” She mutters, shaking her head, “For four million, I’m tempted to turn myself in.”

John’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white, “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.” Helen rubs at her temple, “Fuck.”

That about covered it, John thinks.

He waits. She’s kept it together this long but news of a bounty on her head has to be enough to snap her out of the idle calm she’s been sitting in. He waits for her try cry or get angry or scream but, no. She shakes her head and looks back to the book on her lap.

He can’t help himself. “Seriously?” He asks, looking between Helen and the road, “You have a four-million-dollar bounty on your head.”

“Yes.” She agrees.

“There are hundreds of assassins looking for you right now.”

“I gathered.”

“Helen…” he cuts himself off, before he says something stupid.

She closes the book and leans back, facing him the best she can in the moving vehicle. “Do you think it would help?”

“What?”

“Do you think it would help if I broke down right now? If I started crying, do you think it would help either of us? Freaking out will not help me handle everything that’s going on. And it won’t affect the guilt that you’re clearly experiencing from something, and I can’t emphasize this enough, was beyond your control.”

He flounders for a moment, opening and closing his mouth as he searches for how to respond to her, “You’ve been kidnapped.”

“Mhmm.”

“Held hostage, sedated, been forced to play mind games with mobsters,”

“Seems like it was only yesterday.”

“And now you have a four-million-dollar hit out for you and you’ve barely reacted!”

She shrugs. She fucking shrugs and John wants to pull off to the side of the road and fucking shake her just to see if that sets her off.

“We all process things differently, John.”

“What have you processed?” He asks, unable to keep the frustration from his voice, “You’ve been eerily calm this entire time!”

She waves a hand, “I started processing it before it even happened. Maybe, if it had been completely out of the blue, I might have had a more visceral reaction. But let’s be real: this was going to happen at some point or another.”

“You were going to be kidnapped at some point or another?” He asks incredulously.

“Given the circumstances, it isn’t a large jump.” She points out. “You’re the Boogeyman. You might not understand all the fear people have when it comes to you but you recognize it. Fuck, I saw firsthand how terrified of you DeLuca’s men are. But you don’t present with a lot of exploitable weaknesses. And, regardless of how I entered the picture, it’s easy to see we have unhealthy boundaries.”

It takes him nearly a minute to process everything that she says and, when he does, he’s shaken.

“You’re saying you knew you were going to be kidnapped because we supposedly have unhealthy boundaries?”

Another shrug, “I wasn’t blind to the possibility that I could be targeted as a way to get to you. And there’s nothing supposedly about it. Our therapeutic relationship has been fucked since the beginning.”

John does a doubletake and looks over at her. “No, it hasn’t.”

Helen snorts, “One month in, I told you to forgo Tarasov V. Regents. A single phone call from you and I could have had my license revoked and my practice disbanded.”

“Isn’t trust the basis of a good therapeutic alliance?”

“There’s trust and then there’s putting my career in your hands. But if you don’t think that’s enough to indicate our God-awful boundaries, we could talk about your late-night stalking habits.”

John’s head flies to look at her.

“Traffic, John.”

He swerves and narrowly misses driving off the road.

His mind reels. She’d never mentioned it before and neither of them has ever brought it up. He operated somewhere between the assumptions that she didn’t know and that she would never mention it if she did.

He asks gruffly, “What did DeLuca tell you?”

She snorts at that, “Please. DeLuca doesn’t see nuances. He’s just convinced we’re sleeping together.”

“Then how--?”

Helen glances over, her voice softening, “Give me some credit here, John.”

He swallows, “How long have you known?”

“Five months.”

Since the beginning.

He watches the road, suddenly hyper-aware of the pounding of his heart, the hairs on his arms that are standing on end, and the tension filling his body.

He’s unable to look at her. He wonders if he’ll ever again be able to look at her, knowing that she knew. This whole time, she actually knew.

How many times had she asked him if he was planning for a late night, supplying him with coffee, all the while knowing that his late night was going to end sneaking into her home and watching her sleep?

And she had known? For five months?

And no, John Wick wasn’t the kind of man you took a restraining order out against, but she knows him better than anyone. One word from her and he would have disappeared.

Morbid curiosity and confusion get the better of him. “You never said anything.”

“You would have stopped.”

It really isn’t fair, John decides, that she can read him like a book despite his prevarications and evasions. But she answers him, and he can barely understand her.

“And that would have been a bad thing?” He can’t keep the incredulity out of his tone.

“I weighed the pros and cons.”

Now John can’t help but look at her. Calm as ever, her eyes remain kind and non-judgmental. “You weighed the pros and cons.” He repeats.

She nods, once, and John really isn’t sure what the hell kind of pros she came up with to sit back and just let that happen.

“Do you really want to have this conversation right now?” She doesn’t sound exasperated, only concerned. “I’m pretty sure you’re about to pull the steering wheel out if we keep going.”

He considers it, but John is pretty certain that the only thing worse than talking about it would be to stop. He wasn’t certain he’d be able to sit in his anxiety now that it was known.

“Yes.”

“To having the conversation or to yanking out the steering wheel?”

He shoots her a look but is a bit relieved that she’s still making jokes. She gives him a smile.

“I figured it out fairly quickly, I think.” She admits, “I woke up one night and just had a gut feeling that I wasn’t alone. Saw your reflection in the window but it was the middle of the night, and I was tired, and so I just went back to sleep.”

“Probably shouldn’t have been your first instinct.”

He doesn’t even have to look to know that she is rolling her eyes again, “You really want to start talking about instincts and poor decision making?”

She has him there.

“Anyway, you were gone when I woke up. At first, I thought it might just be a one-off. You’re a paranoid bastard. It made sense that you wanted to see where I live, gain a little bit of perspective. Trust that I wasn’t some sort of sleeper agent out to kill you or some shit. But then you came back.” She looks back to the road, almost thoughtfully. “And you kept coming back. So, I sat down and thought out a list of pros and cons.”

“And the pros outweighed the cons?” The disbelief is apparent in his tone.

“Yes.”

This, John thinks, has to be the most surreal conversation he’s ever had in his life. Casually talking about the pros and cons of stalking his therapist, with his therapist. Only for said therapist to decide that there were more pros than cons.

“What possible pros did you find?” He asks more out of interest than validation.

“What would you have done if I addressed it in session?”

He blinks at her answering his question with a question. Truth be told, he’s not sure what he would have done but walk out and never come back seems like the most likely.

“You would have run.” She says, matter-of-factly but somehow still manages to make it sound nonjudgmental. “Which, given your history of disorganized attachment, is perfectly understandable. But, it would have been a drastic step that would have pushed you farther away from the healing process.”

“After all this,” John bites, “You still think I can be healed?”

“We've talked about this before, John. There is no "perfect healing" when it comes to trauma. Things can and they will come back up. But I think that you can get to a point where you can let go of the things that have haunted you for so long.” She lets out a breath, “But nobody can get there on their own.”

John shakes his head, “And healing me is worth having your space violated?”

She huffs, “Believe it or not, it isn’t all about you, John.” He glances over and she shrugs. “I— I sleep better on nights you were there.” Helen pauses, then adds, “You keep the nightmares at bay.”

Her words cut him like any knife, but he feels it so much deeper than any cut.

Nightmares.

His thoughts seem to erupt in too many directions at once for him to even follow?

Nightmares?

She’s known for so long.

She sleeps better when I’m there.

What does she have nightmares about?

How the hell have I never noticed that she has nightmares?

Not like she would’ve fucking told you. She’s your therapist.

But she says I keep the nightmares away…

She know; she knows; she knows.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

He can’t handle it, can’t process it right now. Especially while driving. He needs a moment. Or a few thousand.

How can someone’s presence simultaneously sustain him and destroy him?

They pass a highway sign advertising food, gas, and lodging.

It wouldn’t hurt to fill up the tank. They still had hours to go. And she needs food. Real food, more than just an apple.

“Can you eat?”

She smirks knowingly at the abrupt change in conversation, “Yeah. Probably should.”

He nods to himself, pulling off on the exit ramp. Focusing on finding food, on providing, was much easier than letting himself sit in his own thoughts.

But even as he switches focuses, keeping an eye out for one of the places advertised, he can still hear her in his mind.

Your abrupt change in subject indicates that you’re afraid. Are you afraid, John?

They both knew the answer to that. He was fucking terrified.

He catches sight of a diner and pulls into the parking lot. They’re far enough from the city that he isn’t too concerned that anyone from his world will see them, but he hasn’t put it out of his head that he could have been followed. Even watching the rearview constantly hadn’t helped to ease the paranoia that came after having Helen taken.

John puts the car into park and Helen shoots him a grin, gesturing to her outfit. She’s still wearing his shirt and sweatpants, drawn tight. “Hope you don’t mind that I’m hard-core scrubbing it.”

He blinks, “I don’t know what that means.”

She rolls her eyes and gets out of the car, “Come on, John.”

He follows her into the diner, which boldly advertises breakfast all day. He keeps his eyes peeled and steps directly into the space behind her as he assesses the patrons.

A few bikers, a teenage group of friends, and two couples. It was late enough that the actual dinner rush had died down.

“Stay close to me.” He mutters and she shoots him a look over his shoulder, as if to say, seriously?

He nods.

Helen rolls her eyes but murmurs, “Fine.”

“Two?” A waitress asks.

“Yes.” Helen replies as John nods once, adding, “The back booth, please.”

She gives him a look, as well, but grabs two menus and gestures with her head for them to follow. Helen starts to sit on the near side of the table but John gives her a tap. She sighs quietly but goes to the far side, against the wall, and scoots into the booth. John sits next to her.

“You want anything to drink?”

“Just water, please.”

“Coffee.” John says.

The waitress walks away and Helen leans into the corner, “We’re hours away from your place; hours from the city. Do you really think we’re going to run into trouble here?”

“I’m not taking any chances.”

“I’d roll my eyes but if I keep doing that, I’m afraid they’ll get stuck.”

He shoots her a look and pushes the menu towards her. Helen only grins in response but takes the menu and looks it over.

He peruses it idly before turning his attention back to the people in the diner.

The teenagers looked normal but he had been trained to kill when he was their age. No one blended in quite like a teen.

The bikers had plates from South Dakota. He had checked all the license plates on their way inside. How many assassins lived a nomadic lifestyle?

Fuck, there had been a time where John, himself, had lived like that. Riding under the hot sun, funding his travels by killing at night.

The couples seemed inconspicuous but there was nothing to indicate that it was anything more than a cover. How often had he posed with Sofia as a couple on complicated cases?

The waitress comes back with his coffee and her water and he’s sick to his stomach, thinking of a thousand ways they could be poisoned.

“Know what you want?”

Helen orders first, offering a kind smile to the older woman.

She’s so trusting, he thinks, and that terrifies him.

“And you, hon?” She asks John.

“The southwestern hash.” He pushes his and Helen’s menus across the table and the waitress takes them, eyeing him.

Was the waitress a part of the Underworld? A spy for people leaving New York?

Had he made a mistake by choosing some place only a few hours out from the city?

But she turns and walks away.

Everything else has him on edge.

He acknowledges that he’s paranoid as he picks up his coffee and swallows it down. The burning almost helps to alleviate the frustration.

Over the course of the weekend, he’d lost her. He’d lost the woman he loved to an unknown enemy; had clung to the idea of finding her to keep him going. And Helen had managed to save herself. And things weren’t fixed by getting her to safety, but they were better.

And now, DeLuca was pulling this new shit.

While most of the older, more disciplined assassins were smart enough not to go up against him, he wasn’t naïve to think others wouldn’t come.

He had been a young, stupid assassin once, after all.

He’d made his share of stupid decisions trying to make a name for himself.

And what better way to make a name for one’s self than to go up against a renowned assassin?

He remembered his training well.

The Director had beaten it into their heads: it only takes one bullet.

One well-aimed bullet, one perfect blow with a knife and even the best would fall.

John would die for Helen, happily, a thousand times over. But things were fucked and dying for her wouldn’t be enough to keep her safe with a bounty on her head.

And he didn’t know where DeLuca was.

He didn’t know what it would take to remove the bounty and—

Her hand lands on his thigh and he nearly drops the coffee mug in his hand. Quickly, he sets it down, glancing over to her.

Her hand is on his thigh.

Fuck.

“Tell me five things you can see.” She says and he knows better than to ask questions when she’s using that sort of tone.

He blinks, swallowing as he looks around, “Uh, there are thirteen people in this room, aside from us. There’s the exit sign. A clock. An old license plate on the wall. And you.”

“Four things you can feel.”

“The seat we’re on. The scratch of denim. The air circulating. Your hand.” He tries to keep his voice from breaking at the last. Her hand is on his thigh.

“Three things you can hear.”

He listens, intently. “Murmur of conversation. The sounds from the kitchen. Coffee being poured.”

He can tell what she is doing. Simultaneously distracting him from his paranoia and grounding him in the moment.

“Two things you can smell.”

John breathes in and stutters on the exhale. There are many scents in the diner that he can distinguish, but none more powerful than her. Bathed in his shampoo, his body wash from her shower. She smells like he does and it makes his head go a little fuzzy when he thinks too much about it.

He swallows, deciding he is not going to say that. “Uh, I smell the grease from the kitchen. And my coffee.”

“And one thing you can taste.”

“The coffee.” He says, before he can start to think of what he wants to taste.

“Good,” Helen praises and she squeezes his thigh, “Are you with me?”

“I’m here.” He wonders if he’s flushed.

Helen had, once again, pulled him out of his head. Stopped him from going down a darker path and it wasn’t right, he thinks, that Helen is having to calm him down.

“Are you?” She asks, raising her hand from his lap up to his face. She cups his jaw and turns his head to face hers, “Because you look like you’re still lost in your head.”

“I’m sorr—”

“Don’t be. You have no reason to be sorry, John.”

He doesn’t deserve her. Not her love, not her friendship. Not even her help. She’s too good for him, but now, neither of them have a choice. He got her into this mess and now she won’t survive without him.

“This is my fault.”

“I’m not exactly blameless, John.” She removes her hand and he immediately mourns the loss of her touch, “I kept you on as a client even after knowing what you do. I knew you were sneaking into my house at night and I didn’t do anything to stop your or dissuade you. I’m positive that I don’t have the best security at my house.”

“It’s not the same th—"

“John.” She interrupts him again, “Look, we can go back and forth for eternity about where the blame goes. But it’s not going to do us any good because, ultimately, it lies with DeLuca.”

Helen pauses, giving him a moment to ingest what she has just said, before she adds, “I know you’re not used to being scared. And I know it feels like a lifetime since things have been out of your control. But everything is going to be okay.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I can. Because no matter what happens, no matter what horrors and traumas we face, no matter what loss we experience, we still get up in the morning. We figure things out, we adjust our tactics, and we do what we have to.”

He almost believes her but his fear lingers.

He offers a small smile, “Is that how you managed to stay so calm when DeLuca had you?”

She smiles back, adding teasingly, “I figured you’d be stressed enough for the both of us.”

John relaxes his posture, still on guard but no longer feeling fight or flight instincts that had been drowning him since their arrival.

Their waitress walks over and Helen calmly smiles, thanking her as they’re passed their dinners.

John waits until the waitress has gone to respond, “I’ve had missions go south, but not being able to find you, not knowing who had you…” he shakes his head.

“You crave control.” Helen says understandingly, “With your life, in general, of course. But primarily, over your emotions. So you ignore them until something sends you into overdrive.”

“What’s the solution there?”

She reaches over with her fork and snatches a bit of hash from his plate, “No easy fixes, unfortunately. We’ve already talked about rational verse irrational thoughts. The next step would be directly talking about your reactive attachment but I don’t think you’re fully ready to address that.” Helen tells him as she pops it into her mouth.

“What the fuck is reactive attachment?”

She swallows, “One day, I’ll let you read your file.” She takes a sip of her water, “Okay, attachment crash course: attachment is, basically, the bond that develops from person to person. It starts when you’re a baby and the relationships that you have in your early years tend to be large indicators for the rest of your life.

“Babies have needs that have to be met: being clothed, being fed, changed, and cuddled. When these needs are met by a consistent caregiver, babies start to develop trust. They can recognize their caregiver, they feel secure in knowing that, even if their person leaves them, they’ll come back.

“But, these needs aren’t always met. And, when kids don’t form secure attachments, it effects their relationships growing up. If not addressed and treated early, it transitions into adulthood.”

John couldn’t remember that far back but he still remembered the tribe. The orphans were taken care of. They weren’t abandoned but they sure as hell hadn’t been loved, either. He remembered, not too long before he was sent to live under the Director’s care, being in the orphanage and telling one of the little ones to stop crying.

Nobody cared.

It was best to learn that lesson early than to waste tears on someone who would never come.

“And what does that look like?” John asks.

“Being withdrawn from social interaction; not asking for help when you need it because you don’t trust anyone to come through for you; feeling like you don’t understand the world around you, like everyone else is in on something that must have skipped you; not seeking comfort; avoidant behaviors; a tendency to shy away from intimate relationships.”

John exhales a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Jesus.”

“When kids with RAD—reactive attachment disorder—start to form connections, they typically go one of two ways. There’s the disinhibited, where the kid with RAD ends up becoming overly emotional. They search for affection in anybody who pays them the slightest bit of attention.”

That didn’t exactly describe John so she continued, “There’s also inhibited. Those kids avoid any emotional bond, they reject kindness and relationships because they don’t trust it. Even if a kid likes someone, they eventually reject them before they can be rejected.”

John swallows. Just that morning, he had been thinking about how to disentangle himself from Helen. He had justified it by telling himself it was to protect her. From him, from his enemies.

But Helen was still there; still sitting by his side. Still trusting him with her life despite everything.

“When kids with RAD grow up, relationships—even friendships are strained. There’s a fundamental lack of trust that’s based in fear. You avoid close relationships; avoid personal relationships, period.”

“I didn’t avoid you.”

She inclines her head, “Yeah, well…” She takes another bite of her dinner.

“Well, what?” He’s almost afraid of the answer with the look she’s giving him.

“It isn’t unusual for someone with RAD to over-attach themselves to one or two people in particular. Those relationships tend to be a bit obsessive.”

And now, he needs a drink. He preferred to savor bourbon, but he was ready to down a bottle to avoid this particular conversation again.

He can’t help but wonder if she knows just how far his obsession for her goes. If he told her he loved her, would she say that she already knows? After all, she knows everything else about him. Or would she smile sadly, empathetically, and tell him that she cared for him, but not like that?

He wasn’t sure which would be worse.

John had accepted a long time ago that he would love her forever. That he would never feel for another what he felt for her.

A part of him is… almost angry. He loves her but it isn’t because of his trauma.

She’s kind and good and so damn empathetic. But she’s more than that. She’s clever and unyielding. Smart and funny and so damn beautiful, inside and out.

And he isn’t sure he can give a reason why he loves her but he doesn’t want his feelings for her, his obsession, his love for her to be tainted by the abuse he had suffered.

“I don’t want to be defined by that trauma.” It slips out before he can think better of it but Helen takes his words in her gentle way. Her head tilts to the side.

“Do you feel like you are?”

“Sometimes. At least, that I’m a product of it.”

Helen nods, thoughtfully, “You are… distinguished by your trauma. It has shaped you, just like every other experience you have been through, you are changed by it. But you are far more than the sum of your past, John.”

John shakes his head, “The things I feel… they’re not normal.”

Again, her little hand finds his, resting atop the back of his hand. She squeezes in comfort.

“That doesn’t mean they’re not real.”

Ultimately, John thinks, he’s still fucked in the head.

But it’s a little easier to live with that fact with Helen at his side.

#john wick talk #john wick #helen wick #john x helen wick #helen x john wick #otp: daisy #overheard at the continental #john wicktion #john wiction #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction

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heartofsnark · 5 years ago

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This is Love (Chapter Eight): Whispers of Wolves

Notes: Heyo, since A) I took a break and B) it’s friday the thirteenth, as it was when I posted the first chapter of this is love back in January, I decided to go ahead and post chapter 8 today. Chapter 9 is already done and I’ll be beginning work on chapter 10 soon, as this is my current hyper fixation. I hope you all enjoy.

Word Count: 8671

Chapter Warnings: Oh boy we got some shit today my dudes! Stories/Reference of Past Child Abuse, Animal Death In the Context of Hunting, Homphobic Slurs/Homphobia towards lesbians, and referenced past anti-Semitism. Less important but there’s a pov change and like three different quotes in this chapter, from the Book of Joseph, and two different songs, which is probably a lot but I ain’t editing this shit anymore

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here

Pain cracks through Joseph’s skull late that night, shooting across from each temple, seeming to split his head apart. He sits on the edge of his small bed, a modest bedroom in the back of his church. He knows what it means, he’s grown accustomed to the sharp ringing pain, visions always come with it. They’ve started to come more frequently since The Lamb arrived.

He grabs at his head, as if he could press hard enough to keep his skull together as pain racks him, an instinctual reaction. Pain strikes through and breaks the reality of the world around him, closed eyes starting to see visions of what could be, images of what may await him.

A world anew surrounds him; one changed by the Collapse and washed of sins. Lush and natural, even more beautiful than the world that came before it. Vibrant pink flowers decorate the earth, thick green moss covering trees. A soft pink flowered apple tree stands at the center of the compound, white buildings replaced with hand made little houses.

Men and women are all around, working around New Eden. Parents playing with their children, carrying their babies; loyal followers allowed to pass through the gates and grow their family. Some members bring back hunted animals to be prepared for meals and others tending to gardens.

And then he sees his brothers and sister.

A fact that changes time and time again as his visions come to him in waves. He’s seen New Eden with and without them. He’s seen each of his siblings die time and time again, old and young, premonitions of what will be or what could be.

In this version, this vision, he’s been allowed his siblings. Faith, Jacob, and John talk at a distance where Joseph can’t quite hear the words, only taken in the moment. Jacob and John’s ages showing more clearly in the gray just starting to pepper their hair.

A voice rises above all others, cutting through the mumbled conversation through the compound, and Joseph knows it’s calling towards him. The soft voice calls him a name similar in meaning to his title, but it cuts to his heart so differently.

“Papa!”

Through the eyes of his older self, he can only watch and take in what happens, no control as he turns to see the source. A young boy of about five comes running towards Joseph, bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. Joseph’s body moves of it’s own volition reaching out to hug his son, his son, but before he can feel the embrace of his child the world cracks apart again.

Pain splinters through the world and rips him from the moment, when he opens his eyes again he’s back in his room. And his hands itch to hold his son who’s yet to exist, instead he rubs at his temples, fingers knotting in his own hair as he attempts to soothe the agony within his own head. The only respite being what he hopes is a new promise from his creator. A chance for his family to not only walk with him to New Eden, but the chance to expand it.

He’ll have a son. The very idea soothes his pain and is like a salve to frayed nerves. Becoming an internal mantra as he eases himself back to sleep that night.

Sweat coats Dahlia’s skin as she does another push up, her muscles aching at the workout. She shifts to lay on her back on the living room floor, t-shirt riding up her sweaty stomach. Her second day of no work has turned into an impromptu work out, push up and using doorways for chin-ups. She uses her shirt to wipe sweat off her forehead before grabbing her phone to check the time. Dahlia must have gotten her way through the day, it has to be late by now.

“Fucking hell.”

It’s noon, it’s only fucking noon.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” She screams into a pillow, how the fuck is it only noon? Dahlia looks at the mess of her coffee table, trying to consider what to do just to eat at her time, she could draw again. But her hand is still cramping. She read somewhere you’re suppose to do warm up for drawing, she’ll have to start doing that.

Then she sees the Book of Joseph, her drawing still sticking out of it. She’s burned through her backlog of manga on her phone and fuck, it’s something to do. Joseph seemed like a genuinely sweet man, maybe he has something interesting to say. Music still blasting, because everything in her life requires a soundtrack, she opens the book.

“Bless the name of those who have dealt you blows.

Be grateful to those who have caused you harm.

For it is these sufferings that have led you to me.”

The first sermon in the book, she chews her lip, it’s not that much different from things Joseph told her yesterday, that he’s thankful her past led her to him. But, something rubs her wrong about the idea of being grateful for her abuse. Not for her, she plans on dying mad about it. She reads onward, an illustration of a flaming capital building surrounded by waves with someone drowning in the foreground. That’s…dramatic.

“If a person had been walking down the poorly maintained road out front of the Seed’s house on that afternoon in June and felt the strange urge to glance over, they would have witnessed a bizarre sight.

They would have seen a man dress in black pants and a white undershirt, frothing with anger, brandishing a comic book in one hand and a bible in the other at his son, a child of about ten. But no one had been down this in the poor suburb of Rome, Georgia, in a long time. Not ice cream trucks, not social service cars, not even police patrols.”

Dahlia stops almost three pages in as Joseph begins to write about a dying widow who once gave him and Jacob cakes before she grew sick. The picture he’s painted is far too clear and hits too close to home for her to continue, at least for the moment. A belligerent bible thumping drunk of a father who derided Joseph for loving Spiderman comics and beat Jacob’s back for the younger brother’s supposed misgivings.

Father Monroe, her stepfather, wasn’t quite the ruddy faced sloppy drunk that Old Man Seed was. But when Joseph describes Jacob offering his back up for a beating, she nearly feels the bite of leather against her own. Stripes for the backs of fools, is all she hears.

She wants to talk to Joseph, she realizes, thinking of both the beginning sermon passage and how their own pasts match up. Does he really bless the man who hurt him? Is he grateful for Old Man Seed? Maybe that kind of forgiveness and peace with it comes with age or is it just him? Ruth has a similar story as well, a little older than Dahlia, and she holds on to the same anger Dahlia does. Has Joseph managed to let it go? Does he still like Spiderman? Did his father beat the passion for comic books out of him or does he still enjoy them? Its hard to imagine, the intense Joseph Seed casually reading a comic book.

Less than three pages is a pathetic excuse for reading and didn’t pass much time, but it’s intense for her. So, she’d rather just…stare at the wall for a bit until she’s ready to tackle it again.

It’s Saturday night, Pratt and Hudson won’t be going to The Spread Eagle tonight, because no work. Meaning a rather mundane day with no interruptions. Other than a short walk, Dahlia spends the rest of it fucking around on her phone and watching shitty tv; passing out after downing an unevenly heated microwave meal.

Sunday morning rolls around, spent much like the last, Dahlia using her down time and excess energy to work out. It’s important to stay on top of exercising and staying in shape, given her profession, she makes a mental note to order some weights online. There’s not really a proper gym in the county and she doesn’t want to lose muscle.

She’s in the middle of another round of pushups when there’s a knock at her door; she jumps up from her position, skin still slick with sweat as she rushes towards the door. Finally, something to disrupt the monotony.

It’s Pratt standing on her porch, hazel eyes looking her over. She’s expecting a shitty comment on her appearance, dressed in shorts and a baggy shirt, hair mussed with sweat.

“You need something?” She asks him, slightly out of breath. Dahlia lifts the bottom of her shirt, using it to wipe sweat from her face, breeze skimming the bare skin of her stomach.

“What the hell has you sweating, Rook?” The older deputy chews his lip, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

“I was working out.”

“With a head injury? Seriously?”

“The fuck else am I suppose to do?”

“Figured you’d be bored out of your mind, reason I’m here,” he grins, “throw some clothes on and we can head out.”

“You mind if I shower first?” She asks, while she’s not sure where he plans on dragging her but she’d rather not stink like sweat while she’s there.

“Uh, yeah, sure that’s fine.”

“You wanna wait in here?”

He nods and Dahlia steps aside to let Pratt into her trailer, it’s not the most tidy of place because, well, she’s not the most tidy of people. She can feel the judgement starting to build up as Pratt looks around her messy living room. A pillow and blanket haphazardly on the couch; her duffle bag on the ground with clothes falling out of it. Her table has her sketchbook, thankfully closed, and the Book of Joseph is tucked under it. It’s a messy little nest, but it’s hers.

“Are you sleeping on your couch?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s just, I prefer it,” she explains with a shrug, not really sure how to elaborate on her weird feeling about sleeping in a bed.

“You have a bed, right?”

“Yes, I have a bed, I just, shut up. I don’t barge into your house and start judging how you live,” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “just sit down, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dahlia grabs a change of clothes, hearing the couch springs creak as Pratt sits down. It’s weird seeing someone in her trailer. The closest she’s had to visitors have stayed on her porch. Pratt is the first person to be in her actual trailer, he looks immensely out of place and judging by his eyes glancing around, he seems to feel that way too. She tries not to think too hard about it, making a beeline to her bathroom.

She tries to keep her shower short, not wanting to make Pratt wait too long and not wanting him to snoop while he’s left alone. That doesn’t stop her from playing music as she showers, just limiting herself to two songs before she jumps out. A quick dry off and she tugs on her clothes, towel still on her damp hair as she walks back out to her living room.

Pratt, sure enough, has found something to snoop through. Dahlia grimaces at the sight of him picking through her little jewelry box of photos. Was he rifling through her dufflebag? She clears her throat, smirking when he jumps up.

“I was just-”

“Snooping,” she cuts him off, ruffling the towel over her hair.

“It fell out of your bag.”

“No it didn’t.”

“It did...after I kicked it a little, but it did fall out.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snatches the little wooden box off the table, Lloyd and Caroline’s photo booklet was on top, so at least she probably avoided him seeing baby photos.

“You, uh, don’t look much like your parents. You adopted or something?”

She can’t help but chuckle as she puts it away; she can’t blame him for thinking Lloyd and Caroline must be her parents. The pair are both about Whitehorse’s age and why else would she have so many photos with a couple that age. But, the couple absolutely look nothing like her. Both fairer skinned and blue eyed; Lloyd with dark strawberry blonde hair and Caroline with light honey blonde locks. Short of some shenanigans the chance of them producing an olive skinned, brown eyed brunette is slim. And while the couple have their share of adopted children; Dahlia isn’t one of them.

“No.”

“Oh, uh…” She can nearly see the gears turning in Pratt’s head, her usual one word style of answering has put Caroline’s devotion in question and Dahlia won’t have that.

“They’re not my parents; legally or biologically.”

“Oh, you just hang out with old couples?”

“Maybe, maybe not, ain’t really any of your business,” she shrugs, “more importantly, where the hell are we supposed to be going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t trust your surprises.”

“Would you rather sit here and twiddle your thumbs all day?”

“Fuck no.”

“That’s what I thought, you ready to go then?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she throws the damp towel onto her laundry chair before shoving her feet into her boots, “lets get going.”

She locks up behind Pratt then follows him out to his car. Compared to the last time she was in his car, this is infinitely more relaxing. She hums along to the radio, resisting the urge to sing along. He probably already heard her yelling along to her music in the shower, she doesn’t need to blast his eardrums at close range. After one song ends and another shittier one begins she starts to fiddle with the radio setting.

“The driver is supposed to pick the music,” Pratt tells her as she flips through stations, trying to find a station playing something other than country.

“The driver needs to worry about the road, while I find something worth listening to.”

“Yeah, ‘cause your taste in music is so good.”

“I have excellent taste in music,” she turns to one station and it sounds like a choir.

Help me, Faith

Shield me from sorrow

From fear of tomorrow

“Turn that crap off, right now.”

“The hell is that?” It’s not a bad song like technically speaking, but it’s definitely a bit much.

“Peggie station, it's all crap, Eden’s Gate runs it. It’s all their choir music and sermons.”

“Gross, but the song ain’t that bad.”

“You might wanna have your head checked again.”

“Piss off.”

She finds something better, even if she doesn’t necessarily mind Eden’s Gate music, she’d rather listen to something without fear of a sermon coming up after. At the very least, Pratt doesn’t complain about her choice, a few more songs playing before they cross into Holland Valley.

“How’s your impromptu vacation been going?”

“Boring.”

“That’s what I thought,” he laughs, “figured you’d be going stir crazy by now.”

“So, you decided to come end my boredom?”

“No need to sound so excited,” Pratt rolls his eyes, not appreciating her lackluster response.

“Sorry, I, uh, do appreciate it,” she admits, looking out the windows, cheeks warming at it. It’s embarrassing to say that she is genuinely thankful. Hell she nearly jumped up and ran to the door like a dog when he knocked. Boredom is hell.

“Oh, it’s fine, I was bored too.”

They pull into the police station parking lot and she raises an eyebrow at him as he parks. He’s taken her to work? What on earth is he planning?

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re gonna enjoy this, c’mon.”

She follows him out and around the building to the helipad she noticed before, a black police grade helicopter on it. He doesn’t hesitate to climb into the pilot's seat, telling her to get in. She listens, climbing into the seat next to him. It looks like a mess of buttons and controls to her, none of them making sense. But Pratt confidently starts turning switches, lights coming to life in front of her. They’re going for a helicopter ride, holy shit.

“Pffft,” Pratt huffs out a laugh, “we’re not even in the air yet and you’re already grinning.”

“This is okay, right? Like, no one will mind.”

“I’m the only person at the station who can fly, so if they needed it, they’d be calling me anyway. Don’t worry.”

“I’m fine, I just wanted to know I can enjoy this guilt free.”

“And lift off,” Pratt says as he brings the chopper up off of the ground. The station grows smaller and smaller as they ascend up into the air.

“Wow…” Is all as can seem to say at first as the chopper kisses the sky.

They’re surrounded by a bright blue sky and puffy white clouds as Pratt flies across the county. Lush green forests and farms beneath them, mountains along the edges of the county. A top down view of animals running through, specks in their vision. She oohs and awes, unable to help acting like an excited child over the view. They fly along the county, Pratt is kind enough to answer her stupid questions about flying, what buttons and switches mean. She’s certain to a seasoned pilot her naïve question must be frustrating, but he grins with every answer. Before she knows it the sky around them has shifted to an awash of pinks and purples, the sun setting, before a midnight sky takes it place. Brilliant stars twinkling around them, feeling so close, like she could reach out and touch Andromeda.

Once it gets too late, Pratt lands back at the station, her cheeks ache from all the time smiling. He drives her back to the trailer park, the pair in comfortable silence as she hums along to the radio. Her thoughts drifting off as they are so quick to do. Pratt and her butted heads a bit when they first met, but he’s quickly become her closest friend in the county. Their light-hearted bickering and shenanigans have become her favorite part of her days in Hope County.

He walks with her to her trailer, shoulders brushing occasionally as they move. She turns to look at him when they reach her door. Dahlia clenches and unclenches her hands searching for what she wants to say.

“Thanks, a lot, really.”

“You like flying that much?”

“Not just for that, not to be all mushy and crap, but coming out here, keeping me from going nuts, being my friend. It, uh, means a lot, seriously.”

“Eh,” he scratches at the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes, “just watching out for you, probie.”

“Well, I appreciate it, I, uh, know I’m not the easiest person to get along with.”

“No one in this county is.”

“Good to know I fit in, I guess.”

“Uhh, you’re getting there, once you start stinking like beer all day and have a house full of deer heads, we’ll call it good.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she grins, “night.”

“Night.” She waves Pratt off before going back to her trailer to settle in for the night.

Monday is spent showing up to the station just to play with Petunia behind the building; just laying on the ground while the fluffy opossum crawls on her. She scratches along the marsupial’s back as they nuzzle into her neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home relaxing or something?” Beau asks and Dahlia shifts her head back to look at him.

“I am relaxing, what are you doing?”

“Well, everyone asked me to go see what that weirdo deputy was doing, so here I am.”

“Oh no, you hear that Petunia,” she looks at her opossum friend, “people think I’m weird.”

“Yeah, talk to the ‘possum, that’ll really show ‘em.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he just rolls his eyes, leaving her alone for the moment. Pratt and Hudson invite her out to The Spread Eagle once the sun starts to set, but a steady throbbing ache has built in her head, she skipped pain meds. And the idea of the jukebox booming in her skull makes her turn it down for the night, once she’s back to work she’ll treat them to a meal there, she decides on the quiet ride home.

Dahlia wakes up the next day and decides to finally take that hike, wanting to explore some of the mountains and woods that surround the county. The brunt of the trails seem to be within the Whitetail Mountain area up north, the mountains in the Henbane are mostly around that statue and as much as she likes Joseph more than before; the statue is still creepy.

She tucks her sketchpad, pencils, water, and her pain meds in the storage under her motorcycle seat before she drives up to the mountains; the north section of the county is colder, a chill from the air as she rides up. She stops in at an Old Sun Outfitters, buying a little black backpack to carry her stuff in when she hikes.

The woods around her get thicker and thicker as rides further into the mountains, land growing steeper with every minute, civilization sparser and sparser; buildings harder to find, just peeks of wood or cement through trees. The trees clear on her right as a turn of the road leads her to a large parking lot with little hutch and a sign that says, ‘rest area’. The hutch says Valley View Overlook. It’s built at the top of a plateaued piece of land, not as towering as the mountains in the distance, but higher than the meager hills of the valley or river. She parks her motorcycle and packs the bag before taking in the view.

A small navel high fence, she imagines waist high for others, keep animals or children from just running off the side of the mountain. It’s a beautiful sight; she can see why the lot is named after it. She takes a deep breath of fresh mountain air looking out at the soft blue sky that meets the mountains in the horizon; the deep green forests further down. Air so clean and refreshing, but for some reason she finds herself pulling out a cigarette, to fill her lungs with smoke. Too much good needs a bad, she supposes. She watches the white clouds and birds flying through, as she lets smoke settle heavy in her lungs, only parting from the sight when her cigarette threatens to burn her fingers.

She follows along a little beaten trail through the woods, kicking up rocks and crushing grass underfoot as she lets the trees surround her. Grass rustles around where animals sneak through; deer running through, other hikers crossing her path, and hunters packing bucks back home with dogs sniffing along after them.

It doesn’t take long for her to go off the path, just walking in any direction that catches her interest. Deeper and deeper into the woods, following divots and drop offs, walking along the occasional stream of water that passes through the area. Her feet and head start to ache as hours pass, the cool air no longer able to chill her body as exertion coats her skin in sweat.

A hunting stand, one of many, is within the woods. Gray metal built around a tree with a ladder leading up. It’s empty, but if a hunter really needs it, she’ll move along. She climbs up curling her legs under her on the stand as she pulls off her back pack and red flannel, the sleeves now sweaty after her walk. Dahlia ties it around her waist, feeling the cool air on her skin as she takes a deep breath.

She takes a deep swig of water and one of the pain killers. There’s a crush of grass and she looks up to see a group of deer a short distance from the stand. A fawn and what may be younger deer, with a buck among them. The buck’s fur grayer in color than the richer warmer brown of the others. Dahlia gets out her sketchpad and pencils, balancing them on her knee as she takes the drawing the creatures. A calm energy and flow falls over her as she draws, the only sound the animals rustling within the woods. She’s better at drawing people than animals, she realizes, when she can’t quite get the right slope of the buck’s muzzle, but she doesn’t stress herself over it. No one will ever see her wonky deer. She looks up; the buck has gotten much closer, shuffling near the stand.

Dahlia puts her sketchbook aside, half finished wonky deer abandoned, as she moves to lay on her belly over the edge of the hunter’s stand. She stretches her hand out, his antlers high enough for her fingers to just brush the velvety texture. But that’s not what she’s after, wanting to pet the stags head. Dahlia shifts to a knee and a foot, she forces the fingers of one hand into the grating to keep a solid grip on the stand. She leverages herself to lean further and further out, stretching a hand out and nearly hanging completely off the stand. Her fingers just centimeters away from touching the stag’s head.

The fuzz of fur brushes across her fingers and the soft brown eyes looking up at her go blank; blood spraying from the side of the buck’s head as it’s body goes limp to the ground. She can’t help but jump back and fall on her ass; gasping at the now dead deer in front of the stand, the rest of them have scattered at the sight.

Maybe she should have expected it, being in hunter territory, but the closeness of it still startles her. There’s a heavy thud of boots, steady consistent footfalls crushing branches and grass beneath them. Ginger hair with shaved down sides and an army jacket; Jacob Seed.

This is likely the only time she’ll ever be taller than him, watching him from the stand as he shifts a bright red rifle from his hands to on his back. It seems so vivid and ostentatious compared to his utilitarian style of dress. There’s a childish urge to jump on his back and scare him. But, they don’t know each other well and he’s a veteran, so she can’t know how he’d react to the sort of thing. Maybe a boo would be okay, just something small?

“You enjoying the show, honey?”

Dahlia jolts, taken aback by the sudden acknowledgment. She tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear and chews her lip watching as he starts to gather up the slain deer; then he looks up at her, blue eyes sharp and harsh. All the masculine Seeds have blue eyes and intense stares; but Jacob’s gaze is colder than Joseph’s and more steady than John’s. Something almost predatory to it.

“I was drawing him,” she says after a moment, looking down at the stag.

“And I was hunting him.”

“Still would have appreciated another minute or two,” she says as she grabs her bag, throwing the sketchbook back inside before she jumps off the stand.

“So, you could flail around and try to pet him for another five minutes.”

“Hey,” she pouts, she was caught hanging from a hunting stand like the child she is, but, “wait, you saw me?”

He gives a vague grumble of agreeance, more preoccupied with tying up the hooves of his latest hunt to make it easier to carry.

“And you still shot? You could have shot my hand off.” Has this man never taken a gun safety course, she catches a glimpse of the scope on his rifle, there’s no way he didn’t see how close his shot was to her hand. He chuckles, dry and deep, mocking her.

“Relax, if I wanted to shoot you, you’d be dead by now.”

“Wow, that’s not comforting.”

“Wasn’t trying to be,” he says, standing up and packing the giant deer over his shoulder, like it’s nothing.

Dahlia reaches out to touch it, fingers brushing through soft fur, no warmth beneath it. She might as well be petting a rug. Jacob starts to walk off and she doesn’t know why, but she follows him. Hands clasped behind her back and walking heel to toe after him. Maybe it’s just because she’s curious about him. He’s the only one of the Seeds not to take a strange interest in her for whatever reason.

He doesn’t say anything at first, allowing her to follow along after him. Leaves and grass crush under foot as she follows along behind him, curious as to where he’s going or doing. She’s not sure what she expects, but it’s something to do if nothing else.

“You got somewhere to be?”

“Not really, no.” She tries to crane her head around, trying to get a better look at his face to gauge his reaction, but their height difference is too big to truly do so. The man has to be around a foot and a half taller than her; he seems even taller than the sheriff.

“Well, I do, so get out of here.” Her smirk drops, she was hoping to see him get more agitated like the youngest Seed brother, but his voice doesn’t rise. Staying the same steady deep timbre.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere you need to be, sweetheart.”

“The nicknames aren’t really necessary.” She can’t help but say, wrinkling her nose in annoyance, the condescending way he calls her sweetheart and honey make her nauseous.

“Neither is following me like a lost puppy dog; but here you are.”

“I’m bored.”

“Not my problem.”

“You killed my only entertainment, so it is now.”

He comes to a sudden stop and Dahlia has to stop herself from running into his back; she doesn’t particularly want deer corpse on her face. He turns to face her; expression still the same stern look he usually carries, and she misses his grin when he was talking to kids at the barbecue.

“Look here, deputy, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and irritating me isn’t a habit you want to form. Get out of here.”

“Oh no,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m really scared.”

“Keep pushing, sweetheart, won’t get you anywhere.”

“God, you’re no fun.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“Jacob is something wrong,” a voice cuts through their conversation, rough and masculine. And Dahlia see the long-haired man and short haired girl from the barbecue; the ones who shot her dirty looks when she talked back to Jacob.

“Nothing you need to concern yourselves with.”

“What are you doing here?” The woman asks Dahlia directly.

“Standing.”

“Fallon,” Jacob says the woman’s name, stern tone making her posture snap straighter, “I said it’s none of your concern. Let’s go.”

The three of them start to leave down a path; Fallon and the long-haired man have heavy bucks they pack as well. A hunting trip for Jacob and his…friends? Are they friends? That didn’t seem like friendship, but Dahlia is far from an expert on the matter. She offers a goodbye wave; but Fallon just rolls her eyes. Their steady footfalls leaving the deputy behind.

Well, it staved off the boredom for a while she supposes.

Dahlia lets out a huffy sigh, blowing loose strands of hair from her face as she begins back down the path she came. The sun is setting by the time she’s back to the parking lot and climbing on top of her bike.

Her stomach is growling by the time she’s driving down a main road, she sees the sign for The Grill Steak as she reaches the intersection. Dahlia pulls in, letting her stomach guide her actions, as she’s one to do.

It’s a small restaurant packed with groups of people from friends to families; she can feel the heat of the grill radiating through, the smell of her making her stomach growl. She settles into a booth by herself, when she reads through it the menu is full of gamey meat burgers and steaks. No signs of beef or pork; it’s all bison and deer. She wonders if the cook hunts everything himself, it wouldn’t surprise her, given what she’s seen of the county. He can hear the cook yelling something she can’t understand from the kitchen. Dahlia settles on ordering a cola and a deer burger; thinking about the hunted stag she saw Jacob kill.

As she waits on her food, the chatter of a group catches her ear. They’re not from Hope County; the different cadences of how they speak mingled with fancy latin technical terms tells her as much. Trying to be discreet; she glances at them over her shoulder. A group of four; two women and two men all around the same age. Dahlia’s not the brightest bulb in the pack by her own admission, but when she hears the words corvids and lupine, she realizes they’re talking about animals. It doesn’t shock her, given the abundance of wildlife in the county, certainly people would come to research them.

The door to the restaurant swings open and a man comes walking in, shoulders back and footfalls confident. It reminds her clearly of Jacob, the walk of a soldier, though this man isn’t quite as intimidating a figure. Older than Dahlia, though most people are, with a full dark beard and long scraggly dark hair. He doesn’t bother to take a seat at a booth or look at a menu, only giving a single wave to the cook in the back as he makes a beeline to the group. Dahlia shifts a little further down into her booth, not that anyone could truly tell she’s eavesdropping, but it gives a little more secrecy to it.

“You the conservationists?”

“Yeah, we’re studying the wildlife here… And you are?”

“Eli, not here to ‘cause trouble or anything like that, just wanted to give some friendly advice.”

“Friendly advice?”

“You need to watch yourselves out in those woods.”

“Pffft.”

“We’re well aware of how dangerous the wildlife out here can be. You-”

“No, you aren’t. There’s wolves-”

“And bears and mountain lions, oh my,” one of them jokes, “look, we know what we’re doing.”

“You’re not listening, they’re not regular wolves. They’ve been trained to kill and hunt people down on sight. Even if you avoid ‘em, you get on the cult’s bad side and they’ll send ‘em after you. You gotta be careful out here.”

“Okay, sure,” the eyeroll is nearly audible, “we’ll keep an eye out for killer cult wolves, don’t worry.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, alright.”

The man, Eli walks away, and Dahlia considers stopping him. Admitting her nosiness and ask him some of the million questions going through her mind. Surely by cult, he means Eden’s Gate, right? Dahlia can’t imagine who else he could mean. They’re small and close knit, but they’re not a cult, right? Cults imply something more out there or intense; they’re just a little Christian church. Joseph may have his own book, but they still follow Christian ideas of sins and scripture.

And wolves? How could they possibly be training wolves? It’s all so ridiculous and asinine, making gears spin and churn in her head until they overheat, but it was said with such conviction. By the time she brings herself to make a noise, Eli has already left, and it’s probably for the best. It’s too crazy to be true. Maybe he’s a tinfoil hat wearing type of guy, a conspiracy theorist like the Zip guy who leaves a newsletter in every damn corner of the county, screaming about chemtrails and baby farms.

She fills her stomach, deciding to leave that as it is, finally returning to her trailer late that night. A restless night of sleep with images of wolves and deer creeping around through her brain, nothing concrete enough to latch onto, but enough to unsettle.

A boring morning leads into a boring afternoon, time blurring before the sun has set and Dahlia’s finding herself pulling up to The Spread Eagle to catch her coworkers after their shift. She’s popped enough pain killers that the throb of music and noise is welcomed instead of irritating. A smile already gracing her lips when she catches Pratt and Hudson shooting the shit in the bar’s lowlight. As she sneaks up closer to them, their conversation starts to be audible over the tunes playing through the bar.

“I bet you break before then,” Hudson says, a teasing grin directed at Pratt.

“Hey, it’s only six months.”

“Please, you’re weak and you know it.”

“How much you wanna bet?”

Dahlia strikes, throwing her arms over Pratt’s shoulders, effectively hugging him from behind and leaning her weight into him. He’s warm and Dahlia can’t fight the impulse to squeeze him a little tighter. She breathes in the faint smell of coffee and cologne that still cling to him; comforting after so much time spent around him.

“Jesus fuck, when’d you get here?” Pratt blusters and at this close of a range Dahlia can see his cheeks pinkening under the scruff of his beard. Does this bother him?

“Right now.”

“You decided to come hang out again?” Hudson asks, grinning at the flustered Pratt.

“Mmhmm,” Dahlia hums into Pratt’s shoulder, pressing her face into him, “bored.”

“Get off me,” he grumbles and reaches back to swat at her hip.

“Ugh, buzzkill,” she bitches as she detaches from Pratt and climbs onto a bar stool, “so what the hell are you guys making bets about?”

Pratt coughs, trying to dislodge something from his throat, and Hudson laughs, “yeah, Pratt why don’t you tell her about our bet?”

“Don’t worry about it, Rook.”

“We still need to set an amount.”

“Fifty,” Pratt suggests and Dahlia wants to know even more what the hell they’re making bets about.

“Mmm, hundred.”

“Fine, if you’re comfortable losing that much.”

“Anyone gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that’s gonna drive me crazy now, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and orders food, stuffing her face as she listens to her coworkers fill her in on anything of interest she’s missed during her off time. It’s not much, as usual, the workload in Hope County is pretty low stakes. Hunting violations, speeding tickets, and the like. Seems like her assault is about the most interesting case in a while. Dahlia’s tempted to ask if they know anything about wolf attacks but bites her tongue before she does. Hope County is filled with wildlife, wolf attacks have no doubt occurred to some degree and if she mentions the idea of trained cult wolves, they might start to think she’s buying into the conspiracy shit.

“Stop,” Pratt says suddenly, putting hand on Dahlia’s knee, “you’re shaking the whole damn bar.”

Her leg she realizes has been bouncing the whole time, the hike helped, workouts help, but she’s still breaming with pent up energy. There’s a rustle of movement and Dahlia is drawn to the open floor near the jukebox, she’s seen a few people dance here and there, a couple now and again swaying to softer tunes while she’s been here. But, it’s more crowded tonight, people laughing and dancing together.

“People are dancing,” she states the obvious.

“It’s ladies’ night, women drink free, so everyone’s extra, uh, energetic tonight,” Hudson tells her.

An upbeat song starts and Dahlia’s up in the next breath, she needs to move, burn off excess energy. And while her favorite club in Lake Charles isn’t exactly available to her anymore, she’ll jump at the chance to lose herself in a song.

You should be wilder, you're no fun at all.

Dahlia’s singing along as she sways and shifts through the crowd, body moving instinctually to the beat. There’s a woman about Dahlia’s age, long blonde hair and brown eyes, dancing as well and the deputy finds herself gravitating towards her.

Yeah, thanks for the input.

Thanks for the call.

She asks low into the woman’s ear, so she can be heard over the music, if she can dance with her. The response is a smile, lighting up the girl’s face, a nod of her head and then she’s pulling Dahlia in by the hips.

With dull knives and white hands

The blood of a stone

Cold to the touch, right

Right down to the bone

And then she loses herself in it. In the music that fills the bar, the feeling of a stranger touching her, the slide of her feet as she moves, the way hips knock together, the scratch in her throat as she sings lyrics in the woman’s ear, their grins as they laugh and bump noses together. It’s fun and it’s silly, a reason to move and forget life for a moment.

Cause you give me the electric twist and it kicks and it kicks like a pony.

And true, you might run away with it, it's a risk it's a risk yeah.

Because it kicks yeah.

It really kicks yeah.

Dahlia spins the woman with a laugh, before pulling the woman close against her again, wide smiles and bright eyes as their foreheads touch. There’s sweat sticking to their skin as the song winds down. Panted breaths ghosting over each other’s faces as they come down from exertion.

And the touch of your lips it's a shock not a kiss

It's electric twist, it's electric twist

“How much I gotta pay to see you kiss?!” A loud voice booms out, making Dahlia and her dance partner of the night separate. There’s a man, couldn’t be older than his mid twenties, sitting at the bar with his legs sprawled open drinking a beer at the table between the bar and the dance area. His eyes linger and look over both women’s bodies

“Can I help you?” Dahlia asks and furrows her brows, glowering at the man as she draws closer.

“Oh just enjoying the show, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart and I’m not a damn show.”

“Pfff, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he turns back to his table and rolls his eyes, as if Dahlia’s the problem, “fucking dykes.”

The junior deputy grits her teeth and she sees from her peripheral the woman rubbing the back of her neck, letting her bangs fall into her face looking like she’d rather disappear.

“The fuck did you call us?” She can’t stop herself from speaking, barely managing to reign her anger in enough not do something worse.

“You heard me.”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Pratt’s voice cuts through as the man starts to turn to retort, the warmth of her coworker’s hand wraps around the clenched fist she didn’t realize she had raised.

“Is something wrong?” Mary May calls out, starting to walk out from behind the bar.

“Everything’s fine,” Pratt responds before Dahlia can say anything and when she starts to speak, he looks at her to whisper, “you’re barely three weeks into your job, you really wanna be getting into bar fights?”

“He ca-”

“I heard what he said, Rook, but it ain’t worth your job.”

“You’re right,” she gnaws on her lip and looks down on the ground, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I get it, I just don’t want you doing anything stupid.”

“I need some fresh air.”

Dahlia leaves The Spread Eagle, noticing the woman she danced with has already vanished, unwilling to deal with the bullshit. A cool breezes ghosts over her sweaty skin as she sits down on the porch steps at the front of the bar; running her hands through her hair as she fights to ease her nerves. She digs a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket

There’s a crush of footsteps as she lights one, bringing it to her lips, shiny black leather boots entering her vision.

“Dep-yoo-tee.”

“You Seeds can just smell when I’m sad, can’t you?” She teases looking up to see John, the neon bar sign setting his face aglow in the night as he chuckles at her.

“Not my intention, but if you’re in need of a talk, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“You weren’t coming out here to harass Mary May again, were you?”

“Deputy,” he puts his hand to his chest cartoonishly dramatic in his hurt, “h-harassment? That’s ridiculous. am I not allowed to visit with Ms. Fairgrave and just discuss our difference of opinions.”

His voice is ramping up in pitch as he defends himself and Dahlia can’t help but smile, appreciating the distraction from her own troubles.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Mary May would have a different of opinion about that one. We still gotta talk about members stealing booze.”

“Our members would do no such thing; and I assure you, if there’s any harassment here, we’re the victims. We’ve been insulted, had our sermons interrupted, our practices mocked, Mary May herself once showed up our church simply to cause trouble.”

“Okay, okay, it’s a two-way street, I get it. Sit, we can chat for a bit,” she pats the section of porch step beside her and reluctantly after a beat of silence, he sits down, “so, Mary May caused trouble for you guys?”

“Yes, yes, she has and she’s not the only one; the people of this county have persecuted me and my family since we’ve been here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, no one should mistreat you that way,” she looks him in the eye as she speaks, “and if it ever happens again, I want you to call down to the station, ask for me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Well, it’s certainly nice to know you’re on our side.”

“Ah, ah, I’m on everyone’s side. Mary May is owed the same respect as you and your family; and if you cause issues for her, I won’t hesitate to intervene for her sake as well. I’m here to keep everyone safe. Got to treat everyone like you wanna be treated, the whole spiel.”

“I know you’re not preaching biblical principles to me, dep-yoo-tee.”

“Not biblical, just a little maturity.”

“Are you implying I’m immature.“

“You’re a grown man spatting with a woman ten or more years younger than you; throwing a tantrum and pointing fingers when you’re told to behave.”

“First of all, I’m not that old,” Dahlia raises an eyebrow at him, “don’t look at me like that, I’m 32. Secondly, I am not a child. Mary May has-“

“And if she does something again, now that I’m here, let me know and I will help. But her actions don’t justify yours.”

“Fine, I’ll be sure to hold you to that promise, then.”

“I mean it’s less a promise and more so doing my job, but alright.”

She breathes out a plume of smoke, making sure to aim away from John’s face, his blue eyes track the movement and the nicotine fumes that escape into the air. An ex-smoker, she deems as she watches him staring at her lips and the cigarette between her fingers.

“You want a smoke?” She asks, offering her pack of cigarettes.

“Smoking is forbidden in Eden’s Gate.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Tattooed fingers pick out a cigarette and she lights it for him with a grin, watching him take a deep inhale and blowing out the smoke that fills his lungs. The soft rise of his chest and the gray clouds that billow out from parted lips. She notices for the first time the freckles on his neck and chest, shirt unbuttoned low enough to expose them. There’s thin fresh scratches along his hands and forearms, too superficial and fresh to match the deeper worn in scars, they look like cat scratches. And yeah, he seems like a cat guy.

“So, now that you’ve berated and tempted me, deputy,” he speaks after an exhale of smoke, “why were you out here pouting?”

“BREH!” She plops her back down on the porch with a vague animal long groan and throws her arms over her eyes, cigarette still between two fingers, must he remind of her own issues.

“Well that certainly wasn’t immature or dramatic.”

And she laughs, because he’s right, she can preach maturity all she wants to him. But, she’s still a brat herself. She’d justify herself with their massive age difference, because no way he’s thirty-two, but that feels flimsy at best. They’re both just two temper tantrum throwing children, hell they’re even both fibbing about their ages. Though, she suspects his own much more severe than the few months she adds to her own.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You know,” he lays back on the porch, matching her position, “I take the confessions for our church, if there’s anything you need to get off your chest, I’m the man to talk to.”

“Not much to say; guy called me a slur, I nearly throttled him.”

“Someone else’s actions don’t justify your own,” he parrots her words back to her.

“Yeah, someday I’ll follow my own advice.”

“Has that happened before?”

The gears in her brain churn, she’s been called many a thing, but her sexuality has been one of the less insulted facets of who she is.

Her stepfather, as religious as he was, was adamant on his hatred of gay people. But her own disinterest in exploring her sexuality or romance saved her from his scorn in that area, his focus more on the other various things he found deplorable about her.

Her mother’s side is Ashkenazi Jewish, and Dahlia remembers the few people of her stepfather’s church who despite her mother converting were disgusted their preacher would marry a Jewish woman. A handful leaving the church, a few sticking by just to call Dahlia and her mother slurs when their backs were turned.

The nightclub she favored in Louisiana was considered a gay bar, though not exclusive to LGBT folks. Women dancing with women, men dancing with men, men and women dancing; and a healthy amount of people who didn’t quite fit either label. Only one-night sticks out, a car speeding past the line outside the bar just to scream a slur out the window.

Maybe what bothered her most was the boldness. This wasn’t someone whispering when they thought Dahlia couldn’t hear, and this wasn’t a man just screaming out at the public as he speeds away. Just a man emboldened and willing to hurt her in front of a bar filled with people.

“We’re blocking the door.”Everything else died on her lips; unable to spill her guts.

“And we weren’t while you were lecturing me?”

Her phone buzzes in her jacket as she brings her cigarette back into her mouth, unwilling to justify her evasiveness to a man she barely knows, she answers a number she doesn’t know at all.

“Hello?” She says around her smoke.

“H-hello, is this a deputy?” A soft broken voice, she remembers from the diner, asks her and Dahlia sits up, tension pricking at the back of her neck.

“That’s me, Cassie?”

“You remember me…”

“What’s going on, are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, I…” a beat of silence and a choked sob comes next, “no, I’m sorry, I’m, I’m not okay, I-“

“Where are you?” Dahlia’s on her feet, heartbeat in her throat as she waves off John’s furrowed brows and concern, running to her bike.

“I’m at the diner. I didn’t know where else to go…”

“I’m headed your way now, Cassie, are you safe?”

“I…I don’t know…I…”

Her voice breaks out into sobs again as Dahlia starts her engine, slams on her helmet, and switches her phone to the speaker in her helmet. The girl’s cries echoing around her as her wheels kick gravel across the parking lot, speeding out of Falls End.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #john seed #jacob seed #this is love #dahlia hale #joseph seed #if you ever think im like smart or competent i want you to know that everytime i post a chapter i doubt my ability to count #like i know last chapter was chapter 7 but am I reeeeallly on chapter 8 is that reaaaaalllly how numbers work

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prince-live · 5 years ago

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Touken Ranbu 2.5 Radio Translations

Touken Ranbu 2.5 Radio Translations!

Hello, long time no see on tumblr. I haven’t been posting anything since forever. Well i barely posted anything back then, though. I decided to post translations of Touken Ranbu 2.5 Radio because i rarely seeing anyone talk about it...even though it’s the one of the free content given by the 2.5 franchise of Touken Ranbu..maybe with this it’ll get a little bit more attention..i guess?

I am doing the translation ONLY in text and won’t make a translated video because i want the views to go straight to the official sites. You can listen to this radio weekly every Sunday 20.50 PM JST on Radiko or Youtube (i’ll link the Youtube at the end of the post). I’m starting this from the latest broadcast (episode 70) and gonna continue so on. I normally won’t translate the past broadcasts but requests are always open. If you want a translation of your favorite cast’s episode you could always leave me a message. Or an ask. But i’m afraid i don’t see you asks so maybe a message. You can check the list of casts who broadcasted the show in the official Twitter or on the Youtube channel at the description box.

Disclaimer : Neither Japanese or English is my mother tongue, so please take this translation with a grain of salt and pardon me if i misheard or mistranslated something here. I learned Japanese self-taught and just passed N4 last December. Corrections are always open and i’m happy if someone could correct my translations! Also, this text is not proofread so apologize for any typos made!

I left some notes in the end of the post so i hope you could read it first. I gave notes to some words too so i hope you could check on it while reading the translation. I’m giving strikethroughs to the words i gave notes, and it is written in order in the notes section. I don’t know if tumblr has the feature of giving words a numbered superscripts(?), if someone does know, please tell me how to and i will edit this post!

Another note : For this episode, i’m using the letter “A” for Arisawa Shotaro and “I” for Imari Yuu.

Touken Ranbu 2.5 Radio!

A : Good evening everyone! I’m Izuminokami Kanesada’s actor Arisawa Shotaro. A 2.5 radio alternating monthly brought to you by Musical Touken Ranbu, for short “Toumyu” and Stage Touken Ranbu, for short “Tousute”. In charge for August is Musical Touken Ranbu. Touken Ranbu 2.5 Radio’s Arisawa Shotaro is going to tell you Toumyu’s charms while polishing my radio skills!

A : Well, it has been my third week here, but coming to Nippon Housou, there’s a lot of extraordinary person here, and it becomes my motivation, for a radio (show). And we could even hear a little bit of their voices here.

I : That is great, right?

A: It’s an amazing thing.

I : Glad to do Touken Ranbu,right?

A : *laughs* Well, yes it is. Well, he (Yuu-kun) already made an appearance though,--

I : Yes~

A : --i’m going to talk a lot with Yuu-kun, so please look forward till the end!

Touken Ranbu 2.5 Radio!

A : Musical Touken Ranbu’s Izuminokami Kanesada’s actor Arisawa Shotaro broadcasting from Tokyo Yuurakuchou Nippon Housou, Touken Ranbu 2.5 Radio, let’s welcome tonight’s guest, it’s this person!

I : I’m Nagasone Kotetsu’s actor Imari Yuu! Onegaishimasu~

A : Continuing last time, Yuu-kun is the being the guest, actually i don’t really wanna ask this question, well, i’m given the opportunity to be the personality, but how is it, my personality side?

I : I’m not an acid-tounged critic like Takahashi Kensuke or else, so i guess you’re--okay? It looks like you’re having fun so it’s okay.

A : “It looks like i’m having fun so it’s okay” *laughs*. Try to appear once in Kensuke-kun’s(broadcast), that person is amazing, as i thought. He’s so good.

I : That guy was originally aiming to be an announcer after all, he’s the type of person who could just casually say “I wish i were an annoucer~”

A : *laughs* That’s right

I : His talk-power is amazing. Takahashi of the Talk-power. But, i’ve been thinking about this. If someday, when he became a papa, he’ll say harsh things to his child. He’ll be hated by his own child. It’ll definitely become like that.

A : *laughs* hated by his own child---there’s no doubt about it.

I: He’s saying everything that he thinks about.

A : That’s for real. Let’s hear children’s opinions.

I : Yes, yes, yes.

A : Right, so this time we’ll gonna bring you this this topic “Before The Show of Bakumatsu Tenrouden 2020, We’ll Guide You”!

I : Ooh?!

A : Musical Touken Ranbu Bakumatsu Tenroden is planned to perform between September to November! Musical Touken Ranbu Series’s second work which performed during 2016’s Fall will be performed in 2020 with a new production, the live part performance will also be renewed! Right..and the Historical Figure actors will be recasted to Koyanagi Shin as Kondo Isami and Sadamoto Fuuma as Okita Souji!

With that being said, going towards this show, we whom were casted in Bakumatsu Tenroden 4 years ago will tell you the works charms all over!

I : Yes!

A : Yes, with that being said, in Bakumatsu Tenroden 4 years ago, we appeared as Touken Danshi for the first time. Weeell remembering the first performance , it feels kind of—

I : It was amazing, right?

A : It was amazing. We ran through it right?

I : I’m being told to the extent that i wanna say “You could say such thing?”

A : I heard about that, of course, about the hard work. As i thought you can’t just be not challenging yourself in a lot of things! With singing, acting, dancing, sword battles! That was it right? Do you have any memory of it?

I : For me, there was the Time Retrograde Army, i don’t really remember anything about the history being changed!

A : It’s the Yuu-kun after the changes right..

I: I’m the Yuu-kun after the changes.

A : Looking back, talking about our first debut, it started with a production announcement in a Gajoen—

I : It was the time that my muscles is in the best condition—

A : * i chose not to translate this part, i’m not sure what Arisawa-san is trying to ask to Imari-san here..kansei-kan?? I don’t really understand how is that written and what does it mean*

I : But you know, i thought about this, when Touken Danshi’s are being smithed, they’re keep being hit and hit right? (referring to an actual swordsmithing process), i was thinking about that! So i think “that(muscles)” is needed!

A : That’s right

I : It is a sword that is done by being hit repeatedly and going through a harsh environment right? That’s why i went to that extent. It’s because of that (the smithing process) so we became strong.

A : Right right right, but you know, in the game, when it goes “paan” and it appeared (the Touken Danshi), there is cherry blossoms falling right, moreover at the Gajoen , there’s cherry blossoms falling too!

I : There was~

A : For an appearance, it was a wonderful appearance! Moreover, at the Kyoto theater’s surprise performance, we’re appearing in a sea of uproar! It was amazing..

I : It was so amazing that i caaan’t keep up with it..

A : That’s right..

I : The one in Gajoen too, we looked sparkling. And then we went to Kyoto too, it made me think “We’ve been to such an amazing place..”

A : Right, like seriously, looking at our yearly schedule there’s like “Live at Osaka-jo Hall”? Hey, how far are we going?!

I: That was amazing..

A: We’ve broke into a lot of amazing places, but the performance of Bakumatsu Tenroden..speaking of the main character..it was Yuu-kun right? Well, it was Yasusada too in some parts, but the ending is like, you were in a position of watching over (sending away) Kondo Isami’s death..like you’ve hold up your sword but..you can’t do it right?

I : I couldn’t..as i thought i just can’t do it. But i’ve thought of it, i thought of it for weeks, like if that was your own father what would you do?

A : You thought about a lot of things

I : I thought about a lot of things..

A : But seriously, you cried aloud right, in the rehearsal hall..

I : But as i thought, i have a lot to think about. I was easily moved to tears right? Rightaway..

A : You were..

I : I was easily moved to tears. But there, i have no choice but to hold it in. But you know, i remembered about this thing so much until now. Kayano-san said this a lot to me. “DON’T CRY!!”

A : But that is number one part that made you cry right? Like we can’t possibly hold it in when being told to not cry..

I : It’s not like you cried because of you’re getting yelled at right? It’s different than that. When your in a work and start acting..like, Goumoto-san’s Kondo Isami’s back is too large..

A : Yeah, being there must’ve been hard. Looking at Nagasone-san’s sight holding back his tears even though it’s painful, i could really understand his feelings. But on the contrary, in Musubi No Hibiki, i’ve been told to cry like a kid, over Hijikata-san’s death. In that flash, i feel like i’m coming out, as my character.

I : Indeed..

A: But after all, it was really nice to show out the relationships between the swords. As i thought, Tenroden is so great.

I : I thought Shinsengumi as a “negative aesthetics” , so that, how to say it..i feel like there’s something irreplaceable on them, for me.

A : Right, like as a samurai, they wanted to be a samurai, and then they became one. There’s a change period that suddenly changed the historical context between these people who became a samurai.

I : Right, right

A : Like seriously, because it’s the swords of the people that lived in agitation—

I : That’s too great

A : I kinda think about this, at first, we do things like sword rehearsals, the ones that we did in the Shieikan. There’s maybe like some points where they’re longing (admire) to their previous aruji. I think that’s because they have been watching over (they’re previous-aruji) since they were a sword, so that’s some kind of a feeling of respect to the higher-ups of Shinsengumi.

A : This time’s Bakumatsu Tenroden is a reprise, but for those who are able to come, maybe you could deepen your knowledge about Shinsesngumi first, after all, if you know the history, you’ll be able to get deeper (into the story).

I : But i think, maybe the people who are coming knows ten times better about this matter than us.

A : *laughs* I’ve talked this far but—it’s amazing right?

I : I told you, i thought about this. We are reading out such things as letters (from the listeners) right? The way they’re choosing the words is amazing! So that i thought, people who likes swords knows a lot about history. (So that) we have to show it to them.

A : Well, it’s giving some kind of pressure, right?

I : Right, right

A : Because we’ll have those kind of people watching our show right..i mean even in Musubi no Hibiki, we had the grandchild of Hijikata Toshizou from the Hijikata Toshizou Museum coming to the show.

I : That was amazing

A : That was amazing.

I : They (the grandchild) was called.

A : The descendants of him is coming to see the show! Touken Ranbu is amazing right?

I : Yes.

A : We have to make a it fun for the approach for that matter, even though this time is a reprise and the show will be renewed, while deepening our knowledge at this matter, let’s be more detailed with this!

I : There’s no doubt.

A : Right?!

I : Well if we start talking about this matter, it’ll take four years to finish.

A : *laughs* It’ll take four years—

I : Right, four, four years—

A : Alright, with that being said, we have just brought to you a lot of Musical Touken Ranbu Bakumatsu Tenroden’s charms! Then, we’re gonna read the letters!

I : Yes

A : Right..*surprise sound effect* we received one from : Saniwa name : Kirihimi-san! Thank you!

I : Thank you!

A : “My body is so stiff, even though i stand and try to bend down, my hands will only reach a little bit under the knee.”

I : So stiff!

A : Right, it’s really stiff.

I : Are you okay?!

A : *laughs* Well, there was a self-quarantine period after all.

I : Yes.

A : “Of course, for me it’s barely possible too to raise my feet to an almost horizontal level. Lately i’ve been doing stretching and now my fingertips are almost able to reach to the ground.

I : Wow, that’s amazing!

A : “My fingertips are still unable reach down (to the ground) just yet, but i’m doing my best though! Actors out there does dance flexibly and does intense sword fights too, and i feel like “Their body could really move (a lot)”. If you have any tips on making a body flexible , i really want to know!”

With that being said, thank you!

I : Thank you-!

A : What do you think, Yuu-kun?

I : I’m also stiff too, you know.

A : But you know, for me, speaking of stretching, do you remember it?! When we first joined Touken Ranbu, we will work together as a pair to stretch out the muscles around the shoulder blades—

I : Kensuke and Shotaro was a pair right. Kensuke’s way of doing it is---he’s always like “ It hurts it hurts it hurts!” and it keeps echoing in the rehearsal hall...and Tori-chan always shouts “You’re noisy!”. That scenery is really Shinsengumi.

A : Right..moreover that’s a thing that the more you do, the better it is. Even though the next day your body feels like ten times loosen (relaxed) up, but it hurts at first, that is...

I : That’s why, doing it too much is a no. But as i thought, it’s the best if you do it after you took a bath.

A : I see

I : Another thing, for me, i’ll go to a hot spring, and hot springs are spacious right? If there’s not many people, i’ll start stretching. If you’re stretching after a bath, i think your body will be a lot more flexible.

A : Then, Yuu-kun, are you flexible now?

I : Well, i’m really--i’m an iron man now.

A : Iron man--Then, then, just a litlle bit, we’re going to do rehearsals soon, let’s test out between the two of us, how much far could we go, let’s prepare for it

I : Right, you got a point there

A : Well, it’s important to know the current state of our own. So let’s make sure of our present condition.

I : Well then, let’s do that first,

A : This one right?

I : Right, you do it first, Sho.

A : You know, it’s impossible for me now.

I : For me, right now (is impossible) too—

A : Ooh, my fingertips could barely reach—

I : Fingertips reaching—

A : Ah, it hurts it hurts i hurts. I’m up to my first joints.

I : Okay, i’ll go—ah, me too.

A : Up to the first joints of your fingertips---but it looks like you’ll be able to reach it

I : No, well my fingertips does reach, but it simply hurts.

A : This is crazy for me. I felt like some kind of sharp pain just now. It’s like pikipikipikii.

I : For me, lately, my waist have gone weaker—

A : *laughs* I don’t know about that—i don’t know anything about that

I : My waist is weak, so kind of understand Kirihimi-san’s feelings.

A : In the waist matter?

I : Yeah, in that matter. Let’s work hard together about that.

A : Therefore, we’ll soon start our stretches too, let’s start preparing for it, carefully! Everyone too, if you’d like, please note down and try the method recommended by Yuu-kun!

I : Right~

A : With that being said, we will still wait for e-mails from you! The addres is written on all lowercase : [email protected], that is! We’re waiting for your impressio after listening to the broadcast and we’re waiting for a lot of questions for the Touken Danshi!

A: Here’s the Toumyu Information! Utaawase Ranbu Kyouran 2019 is now on stream at dmm.com! The bluray and DVD, and the yearly photobook is now on sale too!

I : Touken Danshi : formation of Kisho’s CD Single “ Yakusoku no Sora” is now on sale. And on the August 26th, Kisho Hongi’s CD Album will be on sale.

A : Futhermore, to celebrate Musical Touken Ranbu’s 5th Anniversary, “Musical Touken Ranbu Music Clip 2015-2020” Bluray and DVD pre-orders are open. About that, please check Toumyu’s Official Site for the latetst news!

I : The Musical’s original draft : Touken Ranbu Online’s PC Version and Smarthphone App version is available to play. Time Limited Smithing Event “Nikkou Ichimonji” is until today, August 16th, 23.59 PM. You can find more information about it in Touken Ranbu Online’s official Twitter, so please try and play it!

Touken Ranbu 2.5 Radio!

A : Toumyu’s Picture Book!

A : Episode 11, the Touken Danshi Arisawa Shotaro will tell you is ; Mikazuki Munechika!

A : A tachi made by Sanjou Munechika, a swordsmith from Heian era. He's one of the Five Heavenly Swords, and is reputed as the most beautiful of them. As a touken danshi, he has the elegance like that of a Heian noble. He's tolerant of others' misgiving, and he's very at-his-own-pace.

A : In Musical Touken Ranbu, he is portrayed by Kuroba Mario-kun. Kuroba Mario-kun’s Mikazuki Munechika is : “Extraordinary Sexiness”.

Please look forward to the next episode of Toumyu’s Picture Book!

A : FM93, AM1242, broadcasted from Tokyo Yuurakuchou Nippon Housou, Touken Ranbu 2.5 Radio, it’s now the ending time! Thank you for having us in three consecutive weeks!

I : Thank you-!

A : Well the two of us contacts each other frequently, so even in the radio, we’re getting along well.

I : A-I got it.

A : You’re hungry?

I : I’m hugry. I drank too much water.

*laughs wwww*

A : Alright. With that being said, thank you!

I : Yes.

A : I’m waiting till the next time we would be able to work together again!

I : Right.

A : You could find the past archives of the broadcast in the programs homepage! The program’s twitter it @touken2_5radio. Please follow it, retweet it, use the hashtag and tweet about it, let’s hype up the program!

A : With that being said, we’re the ones brought the show to you ;

“Yeah yeah, it's ok if I'm vice-captain, right?” Izuminokami Kanesada’s actor, i’m Arisawa Shotaro! and—

I : “There is no enemy that I can't cut!”, Nagasone Kotetsu’s actor, i’m Imari Yuu!

Byebye~!

Notes :

The link to the show on Youtube : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gRbJux7NqU4

a. Neither English or Japanese is my mother tongue, so i’m kind of unsure in some parts, either i can’t really find the English terms of it or just simply unsure of what are they trying to mean, so i’m typing in italic in parts that i’m unsure with.

b. The underlined parts are an official script from either the anime, game, or the 2.5 projects, so i’m taking the translation from Touken Ranbu Wikia in Fandom.com (https://touken-ranbu.fandom.com/)

c. Translation with notes (the ones with striketroughs) :

1. It’s 初演 (shoen), literally means first performance, like the whole set of the first performance of Bakumatsu Tenroden back in 2016. Not to be mistaken with初日 (the first day of performance).

2. Refers to Meguro Gajoen, “....is a historic wedding, hotel and restaurant building located on the eastern edge of Shimomeguro.” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meguro_Gajoen)

3. I’m translating the phrase “背中がでかすぎて“ with it’s literal meaning, but i don’t know if there’s any Japanese terms for “a big back” having a connotative meaning.

4. i heard it as 負の美学 (red; fu no bigaku), literally means “negative aesthetics” but i’m not sure if it’s written like that. I can’t find any other word that fits. I hope i did not misheard and/or mistranslated this.

5. 試衛館, a place related to the Shinsengumi..pardon me if i misheard this. You can Google this one if you wanna know what kind of place it is, though. Just in case.

6. He use the term 柔らかい, it literally means “soft”. But i don’t think it makes sense in English as there’s no term such as a soft body (or there is?) so i used flexible as the closest meaning. Again, pardon me because neither English or Japanese is my first language.

7. He said 肩甲骨の筋膜, literally means “the fascia of the scapula”, but it’s too scientific i don’t even know what it it called in my first language and i don’t know if it’s commonly used in English, so i put another word with a similar meaning, but less-specific.

8. I heard this one as 刀ミュ図鑑, i’m not sure with the kanji of “zukan”, but i chose to translate it to Picture Book as Touken Ranbu has one. (The 刀剣乱舞絢爛図録).

#touken ranbu #touken danshi #toumyu #tousute #2.5d #touken ranbu translations #tkrbradiotranslates #touken ranbu 2.5 radio #arisawa shoutarou #imari yuu

7 notes · View notes

desiringparadise · 5 years ago

Note

Hi, I know this gonna sound weird but I'm here thanks to A03, I read "It's A Terrible Love And I'm Walking With Spiders" again (idk why), Let me tell you something: It's fantastic. But I realized that you haven't update for four or five years, well I'm not gonna ask you to do it, that's in you, but I'd like to ask something, could you tell me what was the plan with tha fic, and how will it end, just a summary because I'm dying in my curiosity, well only few words left, so thanks and be careful

Omgggg thank you!!! It isn’t weird at all, I sometimes re-read old unfinished fics too because they stuck with me for some odd reason. I was at a bad mental space when I wrote this story and I feel like my issues manifested in the atmosphere of the story. Maybe readers can relate to some of it?

As to how the story was supposed to end. I didn’t remember and I actually had to look through my old notebook lol. I actually found the unfinished fifth chapter in my folders, so I’ll post it here.

Keep in mind that I wrote this in November 2016 and I never finished editing it. I didn’t post it because I was unsatisfied with the result. I’d rate it T/M.

Chapter 5

Miserable, Stiles focused on the silhouette of naked feet, his eyes never straying any higher. Luckily, the shower glass was milky, so even if he couldn’t have resisted satisfying his own curiosity, he wouldn’t actually have seen much.

After the Sheriff had left, Theo had asked to take a shower. Stiles had let him under the condition that the door would remain open and Theo under Stiles’ scrutiny. Under no circumstances would he have let the other boy roam around in his house without checking what he was up to. There were meds in the cupboard, something he wouldn’t risk leaving him alone with.

Unsurprisingly, Theo hadn’t objected. “Be my guest,” he’d said instead, an extra smarmy grin on his face.

That’s why Stiles was sitting against the wall, knees drawn to his chest while trying not to fall asleep. The sound of water spraying had become lulling white noise, making it hard to keep his eyes open. Maybe he should take some Adderall to shake off the drowsiness. It wasn’t like he would get any sleep tonight anyway. Not while knowing that Theo Raeken was under the same roof as him.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when the spray of water stopped, the shower door opened, and Theo stepped out without an ounce of hesitation. You’d think he’d at least pretend to be a little embarrassed about showing his naked body.

Not that Theo should be ashamed, Stiles realized. He had known before that the other boy was built, but the naked view of him - well, he couldn’t lie, it was a sight to behold. Perfect, unreal. The shoulders, the arms, the chest – everything about him was broad without being too bulky. His flawless skin only added to the look of a retouched Men’s Health cover shoot. Stiles felt entranced to follow his abs, down to the wonderfully defined V of his hips, before stopping himself. Yeah, he had just seen Theo’s dick, it had been kinda inevitable, but there was no reason to scrutinize it any further. None.

Quickly, he moved his gaze up to look at Theo’s face instead, the usual smirk somehow looking even more smarmy than usual.

“Like what you see?”

The question was so cliché, just like this whole goddamn scenario, that Stiles felt the desperate need to break the spell.

“I prefer chest hair.”

For the first time since Theo had arrived in Beacon Hills, he was dumbfounded. It left Stiles feeling satisfied, before his face froze, his heartbeat quickening. Did he just seriously tell Theo that he was interested in men? He resisted the urge to smack his palm against his face.

Theo did the unexpected and actually came up with an answer.

“I could let it grow, if you wanted me to.”

Stiles squinted. “What the hell would you do that for?”

Theo shrugged his broad shoulder, still unperturbed by his own nudity. “Just trying to win you over, that’s all.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, finally rising up and to look at Theo’s face and ignore everything that was going on below. “Well, your lack of chest hair wasn’t the deciding factor that kept me on the other side. Why don’t you put on a towel?”

“Don’t have one,” Theo answered with an innocent smile.

Stiles sighed and motioned for the other boy to follow as he walked to his room. When he opened the door, he felt uncomfortable letting a naked Theo into his personal space. Hurriedly, he drew the curtains and searched for a large towel in the cupboard. When he found one, he threw it over to Theo without sparing him another look.

“Can you borrow me some clothes?”

Stiles was inclined to say no, let Theo sleep in his uncomfortable jeans instead. There was something strange about giving Theo his clothes to wear. But he wasn’t sure when his father would return from the station. When the man arrived, he would go through the living room and see Theo who’d be sleeping on the coach.

He sighed and searched his closet for something that’d fit. Theo wasn’t taller, but much broader than him. (Un)fortunately, Stiles usually wore clothes that were a few sizes too big anyway. He found some sweats. He was painfully reminded that Theo wouldn’t be wearing underwear underneath. No way he’d be wearing those pants before washing them at least five times.

“Long or short sleeves?”

“Don’t need a shirt.”

Stiles frowned, pulling his too long sleeves even further down. “It’s freezing.”

Theo grinned. “I’m running hot. Want to see it for yourself?”

Stiles rolled his eyes and walked past him. “Whatever, I’ll be fixing you the coach.”

Theo followed him in an easy stride. He didn’t even seem a little uncomfortable to casually stroll through a stranger’s home without a shirt on. Completely relaxed, he sunk into the coach and watched Stiles as he spread clean sheets over the sofa.

“Do your parents know you’re staying over?” Stiles couldn’t even remember the Raekens’ faces anymore.

“Sent them a text.”

Stiles nodded, too tired to investigate any further.

Except he was unable to fall asleep. For about roughly an hour he had been tossing and turning, his anxiety back at it again although he had forewent his Adderall. Then, for a couple of minutes, he stayed still, not moving a muscle while waiting to hear any sounds come from downstairs.

But there was only silence.

About half an hour ago, his eyes started tearing up from exhaustion. It was annoying. He wasn’t really crying, but the stream of tears didn’t stop. Now his eyes were swollen and aching.

He was unable to come to rest. He took a deep breath. Maybe if he’d open the door and take a proper listen, he’d finally relax. Feeling ridiculous, left the warmth of his bed and softly padded towards his door. But he was only met with frustratingly familiar silence.

He sighed and returned to bed when- Wait, was that a sound? He froze and listened, eyes wide open as if waiting for an assault. Looking down, he noticed that he had stepped on a creaking floor board. The noise could have come from him. But what if it hadn’t?

He shook his head. He was being paranoid, utterly ridiculous… Yet, what if there had been something? He took a deep breath and held it, wanting his heart beat to slow. Okay, he’d go outside again, just this once, and take a look around house, and most importantly, check whether Theo was doing something sketchy.

He left his room, slowly descending the stairs. From here, Theo’s form was still, he seemed to be sleeping. Just to be sure, he told himself as he gradually closed the distance between them. He stopped just before the sofa and leaned down to inspect his face. His eyes were closed and his breathing was calm. Everything about him indicated to be asleep.

But the ugly voice of his paranoia ordered him to look more closely, check whether Theo wasn’t faking it.

Suddenly Theo’s eyes were wide open, an unnatural light shining in them. Stiles startled. He stumbled backwards, his feet hit agianst the coffee table, and he fell on his ass.

“Stiles?” Theo blinked, the strange light in his eyes gone. Had he imagined it? He must have, there was no other explanation for it. He was going crazy. “Why are you up? Did something happen?” His voice was groggy from asleep, but otherwise he seemed alert.

Stiles felt ridiculous. His thought process hadn’t made any sense to begin with, spoken out loud, they’d sound like he’d lost his mind. This paranoia, it wasn’t normal. He liked to tell himself that it was the Adderall, the ADHD, but when he was honest with himself, he knew it was him. He was fucking crazy. No wonder he didn’t have any friends, no wonder Erica had ditched him the first chance she got. He wouldn’t be his own friend either. There was nothing to gain from this cynical, insecure, anxious mess that he was.

His uneven breath catch in his throat, the last drop for his straying nerves. His mind collapsed in itself and he pathetically started to cry.

If Theo hadn’t been awake then, he probably was now. He stumbled out of the sheets and approached Stiles, putting both hands on his shoulders. His eyes were wide with concern. “Hey- hey, Stiles, come on. What happened? Did you hurt yourself?”

Stiles shook his head, his chest heaving with sobs. He was such a goddamn mess. The more he wanted to force himself to calm down, the more he worked himself up. The rational part of his mind told him that this wouldn’t pass until he calmed down. But he was too upset and Theo’s presence made everything worse. He wanted to crawl into a hole and wait till the panic was over.

But he knew that wasn’t possible. “I can’t sleep,” he managed to ground out between the ugly sniffing and sobbing.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

Stiles snorted, as if Theo’s suggestion had been completely ridiculous. Actually, it wasn’t that far off the truth though. He had nightmares, more often so recently. To some of them he woke up silently, heavily breathing, the panic constrained in his chest, but without a sound. Sometimes he screamed. But only his father knew that.

“No. I just – I can’t sleep with you here, not knowing what you’re doing.”

He expected Theo to be confused, demand an explanation, maybe even laugh. Instead he said, “I could go.”

“What?” He shook his head. “No.” How would he explain that to his father? He wouldn’t be able to stand another discussion with him about seeing a professional about his problems. Yes, he had problems, he knew that – but none some shrink could help him with. The only thing he had going for him was that he wasn’t labeled crazy by the public yet. “You’re staying,” he said with finality.

For a while, there was silence. Theo must be put off by Stiles acting like a freaking lunatic. Any normal person would’ve left by now. Hell, he would’ve ran out the house if the roles were reversed. Instead Theo asked, “Do you have any handcuffs?”

For a few seconds, Stiles didn’t say a word. But when he had finally gathered himself- “What the fuck?”

“Real ones,” the other boy recuperated nonchalantly.

“Why in the hell would you-“

“Because, obviously, I’m kinky, if you haven’t guessed it by now,” Theo answered rolling his eyes. Stiles wasn’t sure whether that had been a joke. “”You wanna sleep or what? Go get me some handcuffs.”

Normally, he wouldn’t have obeyed simply on principle, but he was curious where this would go. And as he rummaged through the drawer, where he knew his father kept a spare pair of handcuffs, he realized that the suffocating panic in his chest was gone.

“Now I’ll go outside and you hide the keys somewhere,” Theo ordered. Stiles wanted to question him, but before he could, Theo had already left the house, still shirtless in the cold night. Not knowing what else to do, Stiles went up to his room and hid the little key in his pill bottle.

When he opened the door for Theo to enter, he didn’t seem affected by the freezing weather. There weren’t even any goosebumps on his skin.

“All done?” Theo asked, the blue-green eyes open and honest. Stiles nodded.

Unceremoniously, Theo cuffed his own wrists together.

Stiles stared. “Okay… What is this about?”

The boy shook his wrist, the metal of the cuffs making clinking sounds. “See? I won’t be able to do much without you hearing. No need to worry about what I’m doing. So are we taking the bed or the couch?”

Stiles should be horrified, but frankly, the plan made sense. It could actually work. And really? It was some crazy shit that he would’ve come up with. The sort of solution that people would raise their brows at but that would actually work. “How do I know you won’t do anything to me while I sleep?”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Stiles, no offense, but if I wanted to harm you, I wouldn’t have to wait until you’re asleep. You’re not exactly what I’d call a physical challenge.”

Fair enough...

“There is no way we’d fit on the couch.”

Stiles had ordered Theo to lay on the side of the bed that faced the wall so that there would be no chance of leaving the bed without alerting Stiles. Theo was happy to lie on his side and watch the other boy’s peaceful face. For once, his breathing was even, but he was still twitching and moving in his sleep, restless, even in his most relaxed moments.

When they had first lain down, Theo had feigned sleep. He knew that Stiles wouldn’t have been able to calm down if Theo had openly watched him. Now though, he stare at him to his heart’s content. He’d watched Stiles without his knowledge before. There were some perfect angles from the outside from which you could see Stiles rummaging in the kitchen. Sometimes he forgot to draw the curtains and Theo could catch glimpses of his sleeping form.

But in never had been like this. Stiles, only an arm’s length away, the ever-present scent of anxiousness enveloping him.

He mumbled something in his sleep, tossed and turned and eventually scooted closer to Theo. It probably was due to Stiles’ weird sleeping positions and the unconscious urge to scoot towards warmth, but nonetheless, Thep was elated when the boy’s head almost touched his chest. He could feel his breath on his naked skin.

Theo wondered whether he could get away with stroking his hair, just running his fingers through the dark hair for once, but he refrained. He still was desperately trying to get Stiles to trust him.

At first glance, Stiles seemed like easy prey. He was isolated and defenseless. He should’ve soaked up all of Theo’s affections and begged for more. But Theo had underestimated him vastly. Stiles wasn’t playing hard to get, he simply was too smart to fall for something as simple as charm.

It only made Theo want him even more. Stiles would be the perfect person to stand by his side. Clever, loyal, and absolutely ruthless.

But he had to get Stiles to trust him first. The boy couldn’t see it yet, but once all circumstances molded to Theo’s wishes, Stiles would find himself in a much happier place. Theo just had to give him a nudge into the right direction and make him realize how much of a glorious team they could be under Theo’s rule.

His father was the only important person in Stile’s life. Eventually, Theo would insert himself as a part of his life. Stiles was his centre already, now he had to make himself Stiles’ centre.

This is were this document ended. I think I planned to end this chapter at this point. I hadn’t planned the future chapters in every detail, but here’s how I planned for the story to roughly go:

Stiles and Theo were supposed to get closer, Theo eventually gaining Stiles’ trust and helping him over his issues with anxiety. They’d slowly become friends, but their relationship would always have a sexual undertone because it’d always been clear that Theo wanted to be more than friends. The sexual tension would escalate and they’d hook up and become an official item.

They would share a toxic dynamic. While Theo is devoted to Stiles, he’s also extremely controlling and possessive. He would watch Stiles, trying to keep constant tabs on what he was doing, going through his phone, getting pissed when Stiles was acting friendly with anyone. They would have big fights over this in which Theo would tell Stiles that he cares too much for him to just let him be.

While Stiles would know that this is an extremely unhealthy relationship that can’t end well, some part of him (the part that had been ignored by the people around him for all his life and was starving for a semblance of affection) loved that he was this important to Theo. And while his relationship was anything but normal, he liked that he got to experience something as normal as having a boyfriend, something he’d never envisioned before.

So they’d have fights, Theo would apologize with some grand gesture, and Stiles wouldn’t be able to stay mad (because some part of him wasn’t actually mad at all). This pattern would repeat itself.

Meanwhile, Scott and his friends would try to make Stiles see reason. By now, they would’ve noticed Theo’s and Stiles’ dynamic because of how explosive Theo can get in public once his jealousy is triggered. Stiles, however, can’t stand Scott and his friends to begin with. He thinks that nobody but his father and Theo, in his own twisted way, cares about him and that they’re only trying to provoke Theo through Stiles.

I don’t think the whole Dread-Doctors thing had been all the way revealed when I was plotting this, so they wouldn’t have been included in this story. But eventually, some danger would befall Beacon Hills again. Amidst everything, everyone’s supernatural identity would be revealed to Stiles. He’d feel vindicated to have his suspicions finally confirmed. He and Theo would work together on overcoming whatever enemy they’d be facing off against.

At some point during all of this, Theo’s behaviour would escalate and would cause something disastrous to happen. Someone would be killed. Stiles can finally no longer ignore Theo’s issues as he fights his desire to stay with Theo against his morals. He’d tell Theo that they needed a break.

Theo would beg him not to break it off, promise to change, and confess his love. Though Stiles would know that Theo wouldn’t really change because of the numerous times he’s promised before, he’d be too moved by Theo’s confession to resist. Eventually, he’d decide be selfish and put his own wants before the needs of others. He’d decide that he’d rather have his toxic, obsessive, passionate relationship with Theo, than to return to the bleak void that he was in before Theo entered his life.

Eventually, they’d graduate and move away to live in some big city like L.A. or NYC.

The End.

#now you know what i mean when i say i was in a bad headspace when i wrote this lol #steo #my writing #messages #it's a terrible love #teen wolf

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zephyra-in-the-house · 5 years ago

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OhmToonz “A Night in the Dark”

Hello Tumblr! I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything. With college and whatnot, there’s a lot going on in my life at the moment. All fanfictions and drawings have been put on hold for a while. However, I have decided to start writing little side fics for my main story (which you can find here on ao3 or here on Wattpad) in order to jump start my creative juices once again. Here, I have a little OhmToonz drabble that I wrote today. It’s not edited. I just figured I should post something.

Enjoy!

Cartoonz POV: 19.514 A.E.A.W.

My head popped off the pillow with a small jolt. For a moment, I contemplated why I was awake. A quick glance at the clock on my bedside table said that it was 4:30am. Frowning, I tried rolling over and going back to sleep. I waited for several moments for sleep to take hold but it never did. Instead, I was left scowling at the wall in front of my face in the dark.

Groaning, I sat up and drew my hands over my face. With a deep sigh, I got up and trudged out of my room and down the hall to the bathroom. Delirious and I had been up until 1 in the morning watching movies. I hadn’t expected to be up so soon afterwards.

However, on my way back from the bathroom, something tingled in the back of my mind. At first, I ignored it. On my way back to my room though, I passed the staircase leading upstairs. Instinctively, my attention was drawn to the top. I paused at the bottom steps, still feeling a strange buzz in my mind. Part of me wanted to go back to bed but another part knew I was awake now. There would be no sleep until I could figure out what was wrong.

So, I slowly made my way up the stairs. Delirious’ room sat at the top. However, knowing he was even more irritable than me when being woken up, I tried to be quiet to avoid waking him. As I passed his room, my eyes were drawn to the next door down. Suddenly, it made sense why I was awake. Even from here, I could hear the small sniffles coming from the room next door.

As quietly as possible, I made my way to the door and reached for the handle. Surprisingly, the door was already cracked open. From beyond, I could make out the quiet heart-wrenching sob that I hated so much.

Before I could even think about what I was doing, I pushed open the door. A quiet creak in the hinges caused the sniffles to stop immediately. Across the room, a figure sprouted from the bed frame. I froze unintentionally when a pair of iridescent green eyes burst into existence. It had been a while since I’d seen Ohm’s eyes without the bandana Delirious gave him. No matter how many times I saw them, they still stopped me dead in my tracks. There was a challenge in those green eyes- a warning. Heeding that warning, I straightened and leaned casually against the doorframe without approaching any further. Surprise flashed in the eyes burning through me as I spoke.

“Still awake huh?”

“Cartoonz.” Ohm whispered as though he’d just realized it was me. He paused for a moment. “How did you…?”

I shrugged and folded my arms. “My Ohm senses were tingling.”

Ohm narrowed his eyes caustically. I resisted the urge to shrink. After 7 years, it wasn’t often that I found Ohm intimidating but this was one of those exceptions. The irony lay in the fact that I could hear him stifling a sniffle in the silence that followed. My feet moved of their own accord at the sound. Within seconds, I found myself at the edge of his bed, looking down at the small burrito sitting beneath me. Ohm stared up at me, his eyes still heated. I could just make out his face under the faint glow of moonlight from a nearby window.

Without a word, I reached forward and gently brushed the back of a finger across his cheek. He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering shut briefly. As much as I enjoyed the contact, the fact that my finger came away warm and wet made me do a full body cringe. Ohm stayed eerily still as I straightened.

“I knew it.” I whispered without a thought. Through the darkness, I could barely see Ohm’s teeth flash as he grimaced and turned away. I wanted to slap myself as I watched him curl self-consciously into his blankets.

Careful not to sound like I was sighing, I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The smell of rotten strawberries filtered into my nose as I did so, making me frown. Not only that, I noticed as I glanced down that Ohm’s blankets looked different. Even in the darkness, I could tell the top blanket was paler than the rest. Reaching down, I touched the outstretched cloth and found that it was fuzzier than I expected. I repressed a groan.

Of course he didn’t take that well. I grumbled, admonishing myself for speaking without thinking once again in this situation.

Sighing lightly, I sat down on the edge of the bed at a respectful distance. I could feel Ohm shift a little behind me. However, I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder and confirm that as I folded my hands in my lap.

“Given you have the blanket, I’m guessing you don’t wanna talk about it.”

Silence. Which was answer enough.

I nodded a little. “You know you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Your secrets are safe with me.”

For several moments, neither of us spoke. I could hear the sound of rain hitting the roof outside and the quiet hiss of the wind through the trees. Ohm’s sniffles were quieter and farther in between as time went on. I simply waited, my eyes flickering around the room. Things were becoming a little clearer in the darkness. I could just make out Ohm’s desk on the other side of the room. One of the pictures was laying flat on top of the dresser. From past experience, I knew it was one of the few pictures Ohm had of his favorite brother.

“How did you know?” The question drew me back abruptly from my thoughts.

“I told you-” I started with a smile only to be cut off by Ohm’s voice.

“Seriously Toonz.” I paused, unsure of what to say. This kind of thing had happened before once or twice but I still wasn’t entirely sure I had woken up because of Ohm.

“I don’t know. Something just felt off.” For a moment, he was silent. I resisted the urge to turn back as I heard him clear his throat.

“It was my family.” He said, voice barely above a whisper. His next words delivered a painful blow to my gut. “The day they tried selling me off.”

“Ohm...” Tension crackled through the air. He didn’t say anything, but I knew a warning when I felt it.

That explains the blanket. I thought to myself as I turned to look at him.

Ohm was still curled up in the blankets. Green shimmered through the cracks of his eyelids. Anything from his eyes down was covered by the white fuzzy blanket which he had pulled up tightly around his shoulders. Part of me wondered if it still smelled like his brother, the one who helped him escape. Another part wished I could’ve met that brother and thanked him for helping bring Ohm into my life.

“You didn’t have to say anything if you were uncomfortable.” I chided him lightly. Ohm curled deeper into his blankets, his eyes closing fully. When he spoke, his voice was muffled.

“I rarely hide anything from you these days Toonzy. What’s one more thing to add to the list.”

“Thank you.” I half-whispered. That earned a confused arc of an eyebrow from Ohm as he glanced up at me. “For trusting me I mean.”

Ohm considered me for several moments. In any other circumstance, prolonged eye contact didn’t bother me. In fact, it was always the other person that looked away first whenever I made eye contact with them.

There was something different about Ohm though. A certain intelligence and power I could see wreathing just below the surface. Looking into his eyes was like looking up into space and wondering if you’re actually upside down, looking down into the depths of the universe. His eyes made me question everything I knew about myself. I couldn’t bring myself to look away though. There was something alluring about that kind of existential questioning. Ohm made me question myself and my actions but, in doing so, made me want to be a better person. Whether I wanted to be better because of him and for him was a question I was finding myself wrestling more and more often these days.

My thoughts were broken as Ohm shifted and a hand was produced from under the blankets. Ohm dropped his gaze as he reached for me. Just before his fingers could touch my shirt, he hesitated. For a moment, I figured he’d draw back like usual. This time was different though. This time, he reached out and hooked his fingers in the hem of my shirt and fisted the material in desperation. As I watched, his eyes grew a little duller and more watery as he silently clung to me. My heart threatened to burst with warmth.

Ever so slowly, I reached back and pried his fingers from my shirt. He let go easy enough but now I could feel him shaking. Careful not to move too fast but without staying apart any longer than necessary, I stood and turned to face Ohm, his wrist still in my hand, and laid down on my side across from him. I propped my head up on one hand and allowed the other to rest with Ohm’s in between us.

A soft sob racked his body as he squeezed his eyes shut. I frowned, my thumb rubbing little circles over the soft spot on Ohm’s wrist. That only seemed to draw a soft whine from somewhere deep within his chest. The sound drew me closer until I was looking up into what little of Ohm’s face I could see from mere inches away. I didn’t want to overstep my bounds. I knew Ohm was a stickler for personal boundaries but this felt like one of those times that I had to press them.

So, I shifted even closer until I could throw an arm around the burrito that was Ohm and draw him close to me. Soon, his face was against my chest. I could feel his warm breath even through my shirt as he let out a shallow gasp. For that singular moment, I was afraid I had gone too far.

My anxiety was thrown aside as Ohm clutched at my shirt. He buried his face into my chest and sobbed. This cry was nothing like before. He didn’t hold back. Suddenly, the flood gates were thrown open and my shirt was drenched in snot and tears. I didn’t mind though because, as time wore on and Ohm’s body grew tired of exuding so much energy, I could feel him relaxing bit by bit until his breathing evened out and his hands were loosely curled in my shirt. It was almost enough to make me cry as well.

Ohm never trusted anyone. He had no reason to trust anyone. Anyone he’d ever met betrayed him in some way. To know that someone who never trusted anyone farther than he could throw them trusted battle-scarred prick and local asshole me was by far the greatest achievement I’d ever received in my life. That was enough for me to stay. Enough for me to fight through his hardened exterior, to soothe his traumas and open up my arms to him. Enough for me to say “I’m here for you and I will always be here for you”. Enough for me to stay up at 4 in the morning, watching over him as he slept peacefully probably for the first time in a while. And almost enough for me to finally get up the courage to tell him I loved him with my entire heart and soul. But not quite enough.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you guys thought and whether or not I should post more of these.

#ohmtoonz #sidefic #awaal #I'm so tired #My grades have become flaming trashcans for me at this point

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arsaces-of-akielos · 6 years ago

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Smutty Telephone Entry

Written for the NSFW edition of the Telphone Game on the Capri discord! Where writers and artists get 1h to create a short piece inspired solely by the work of the person before you in the chain with no further context.

My incredibly ;) inspirational prompt came from the amazing @linecrosser, whose art you can see here.

The first time Damen met Laurent, it was at the welcome party Auguste threw when he joined the team. It was held at the bar down the road from the club, a cosy place with and mostly inoffensive music and pretty good food. All of his new teammates were there to ply him with beers and raucously ask for this life story, and somewhere behind them had been a younger, lither, and snarkier version of their captain.

Over the next few months Damen learnt that Laurent was a constant shadow around his brother’s games, a somewhat haughty shadow who nonetheless toted around his team merchandise and his ‘Go Lions!’ banner with more unwavering dedication than most people had to amateur football. He was friends with everyone, almost as good friends as Auguste was with them under the sarcasm. And Damen didn’t miss the fact that quite a few of the players who were single had a comment here and there on the aside about the blond’s face and figure. And a couple who weren’t as well.

And so they’d ended up at the kickoff party for the next season, at their usual bar, most of the team steadily getting drunker and drunker as they loudly proclaimed the last chance they’d have for a while to get so hungover they took days to recover. Until it was just Laurent and Damen tucked away in quiet, warm conversation at one table in the corner. Laurent’s hand moving steadily up his thigh as the heat in his gaze also creeped upwards.

And if the look of exasperation than Auguste shot them when he spotted them leaving together wasn’t quite directed at Damen, he didn’t think of that until later. Until after he’d taken Laurent home and kissed him against the front door while he’d fumbled his keys, dragged off his shirt halfway through the living room and carried him the last few steps into his bedroom. Lain the other man out across his mattress, naked and beautiful, and made him gasp those breathy, throaty moans with his tongue and his fingers.

Their first round was with Laurent on his back, scouring thin lines down Damen’s shoulders with neatly-cropped nails. Laurent came first in both their wrapped in a firm tangle around him, not crying out but instead the opposite, going completely silent as his lips parted wordlessly and his body jerked and tensed under and around Damen. Damen groaned, snapping his hips a handful more times before following him over.

Laurent announced after, lying back on the pillows unselfconsciously naked as Damen cleaned them up, that he wanted something better than bar food. And so under his demands Damen ordered a pizza, and paid for it, and was the one to get dressed to answer the door. Damen waited until he’d almost finished it to point out that bar, in fact, sold pizza. And so this was technically bar food.

Laurent responded by pushing him back onto the bed with a careless shove and giving a very focused demonstration on how good he too was with his mouth. Finally pulling back with hooded eyes and a throat raspy with use to say, “Turn over.”

Damen did.

The next morning, Damen woke first to Laurent snoring just the slightest bit into the next pillow. The sight broke a twitch of a smile to his face. He slipped out into the kitchen to get coffee brewing and, when he stuck his head back through the bedroom door to see Laurent hadn’t moved, got eggs frying in the pan and toast in the toaster.

He brought the breakfast and coffee on a tray back into a bedroom, contemplating whether or not to wake the other man when Laurent stirred anyway at the drip of the bed. Sleepy blue eyes blinked a few times, as he muttered, “What time is it?”

“Almost 9.”

Laurent groaned, rubbing a hand over his face, then sitting up quickly. “I have to go, I have work,” he said. He reached for the coffee. “Is this for me?”

And with that he downed his coffee in an alarmingly few number of sips given its temperature, threw back the covers in one smooth motion, and was up and dressed before Damen had worked out how to offer him a lift to work.

“Is this for me too?” he said as he grabbed the egg on toast straight off the plate and, still holding it, made for the door. “Thanks.”

And he was gone.

When Damen saw Laurent again, it was a week later at the next training session. He ducked his head when the man arrived with his brother, unsure of how he was supposed to act.

Laurent snorted when he approached. “Don’t get shy now, I know you’re not.”

“Laurent,” Damen hissed, mindful of Auguste in hearing distance.

Laurent rolled his eyes, though it wasn’t mean. “My brother captains a football team. It’s not like you’re the first player I’ve gone home with.

“Oh,” Damen replied, resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck like an awkward cliche.

By the time he’d successfully fought off that urge, Laurent had turned away to greet someone else.

The training after that, Damen sidled casually up to Laurent’s side and asked, “So, do you want to maybe get dinner tonight, or–”

Laurent turned to look at him. “Aww,” he replied, with a small smile. Not mocking, but casual. “You’re sweet.” Then turned away again.

A few minutes later, Damen pretended not to see Auguste elbow Laurent in the side, and not hear him whisper, “Seriously, can you stop breaking my teammates’ hearts?”

And so it was three more weeks after that when Auguste tossed Damen his keys in the middle of training and said, “Damn I forgot some gear at my place. You drove here, right? Can you grab it so I can keep taking training?”

Auguste and Laurent shared an apartment not far from the club, so it was a quick trip. Damen let himself in with the key, only to see after he stepped inside that, though the kitchen and lounge room was dark, there was light peeking out from under the door of one of the rooms down the hall. This was the first time Damen had been in Auguste’s apartment, but he took it that probably meant Laurent was home. He swallowed, turning hurriedly toward the other side of the lounge room where Auguste had described his own room as being.

He was halfway there when he heard a sound. He opened his mouth, ready to reassure Laurent he wasn’t a burglar, until he registered what the sound had been. A moan.

A familiar moan.

Damen’s face burned, and suddenly realises that he was stalking in the dark through the apartment of someone who thought he was home alone. For a moment he considered turning right back around and leaving, closing that door as soundlessly as he could manage, never mind that he was five steps away from Auguste’s room–

And then he heard the next sound. A name.

“Damen…”

No. Oh no no no, he told himself. That meant he should definitely leave, that meant–

He was down the hall before he could stop his feet, fingers closing around the knob to Laurent’s room. He heard it again as he twisted, his name and this time tapering off into a slow gasp–

Laurent was lying on his bed, wearing only a shirt rucked up past his stomach. He was stroking himself with one hand, and with the other–Damen’s breath caught even tighter in his throat. With the other Laurent was slowly sliding a plug up inside himself, the shiny black plastic of the base visible around his fingers.

In a split-second Laurent froze, going utterly still in shock. Damen froze too, in shock of a somewhat different kind, his pulse already fast suddenly now thumping deafeningly loudly in his ears.

Damen, somehow, managed to break the silence first. “I–” he blurted, the need to say something forcing the words out of his mouth. “I was just here to pick up–”

Laurent interrupted him. “Ugh,” he said drily, promptly cutting Damen off, “oh just fucking kill me.”

Damen closed his mouth with a snap.

Laurent rolled his eyes, in a way that was still somehow unconcerned despite his position. “I suppose you’re going to think this means something now?”

Damen opened his mouth again, but it was more a parting of lips than a genuine attempt to answer. The initial shock passed his gaze was drawn magnetically to the long exposed line of Laurent’s body, the high flush on his pale cheeks, the tightness with which his knuckles were clenched around the plug. Unbidden, Damen felt his lips begin to curl upward.

“Ugh,” Laurent finally said again, breaking the second long silence. “Fine. You might as well come in and stop hovering. Take your pants off.”

The budding smile became a grin.

#captive prince #lamen #damen of akielos #laurent of vere #auguste of vere #bed of white posts

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thekidultlife · 5 years ago

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The Most Convenient Escape | Jihoon Soulmate!AU (3)

⍟ Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Fantasy/ Soulmate AU

⍟ Genre: ANGST, SLOW BURN, fluff

⍟ Warnings: mentions of abuse, drinking, and sex

⍟ Word Count: 5.3k

⍟ Synopsis: For all your life, you have a deep disdain towards Soulmate Bonds, so much so that you are able to write opinions about it in a local newspaper. However, as life would have it, you wake up one day bonded to a person you hardly knew. Throwing in an investigation, annoying roommates, and a revolution looming just beneath the surface, you had to seek for the most convenient escape.

ON THE NECESSITY OF GRAND ROYAL BALLS by Alex Fireflower

The Porta Persa Edition, September 6

In one's life, what would be considered basic necessities? Food, shelter, clothing, mayhaps a life partner? Indeed, such factors are important. Yet allow me to tell you, dear readers, that there is something far greater and more magnificent than mere daily needs which regularly perish in less than a common laborer's working hours! An element which elevates the typical human experience to the realms of the ancient gods; giving us a glimpse of the most beautiful, the most majestic blinding auras in this Universe! A necessity which is by far the most crucial of all inventions created by man, known to man!

That, my friends, is the Grand Royal Ball.

To be held a week from now at the Crystal Palace, the Grand Royal Ball only admits through invites, usually reserved for the rich and the powerful. Yet what is most anticipated is the glamorous First Waltz where they can showcase their magnificent beauty and impressive wardrobe for the public to see!

Yet this is simply a mere gathering for the upper class, you say? What, in heaven's name, is the reason why this event is of great importance, you ask?

Look closely, my dear readers! Look at the Grand Royal Ball! Look at it with eyes of impunity! Gaze at its splendor and radiance, and see what these people have robbed from you, from the common people! They who have been brought into this world with silver spoons in their mouths, feed us with scraps from their abundant golden banquets! Banquets such as the Grand Royal Ball, where crimes of extravagance and greed go unpunished in the eyes of god.

Do not forget who mines the diamonds in their earrings, who weaves the silk on their lapels, who farms the fruit in their white marble tables! They who afforded nay a drop of sweat in order to survive, yet admonishes the poor for 'indolence' and 'degradation of moral values'--remember them and do not dare forget in the face of their magnificence!

If these sheer words do not convey a clearer message to you, then allow me to reiterate. The Grand Royal Ball is an important reminder to you common folk who gaze at them in your grease-stained hands, growling stomachs and exhausted eyes. This is a wake up call to you who still believe that you can be like them, wearing your own beautiful gowns and respectable suits to your own grand royal balls. This is a reminder to look past illusions established by this society dictated by such people.

You are being exploited. You are being paid by less than what you are worth. If that does not constitute slavery, then there is no worth in reading this article. If you are yet to be angered by such realities through this piece, then I, as an editor have failed my mission. Realize that your fellow laborer is not your adversary. The true cold-blooded monsters are up there in their hectares-wide plantations, sitting on leather chairs and pretending to be your friend, as they casually strategize how to pay you less and less of your appropriate wage, as they search for loopholes in our civil code to perpetuate their evils in the world.

They may look like gods next week, dancing to a waltz in the Crystal Palace with the innocence of a daisy, yet do not be in awe. Do not be complacent.

Do not forget the true enemy.

◇

"You're going to the ball."

Both Wonwoo and Soonyoung declared, under the purple shade of the wisteria tree in the courtyard, their seriousness catching you off-guard.

"What?!" You shouted, almost choking on a shrimp. "What do you mean I'm going to the ball?! I just slandered it in our newspaper yesterday, if you hadn't forgotten!"

The two boys gazed at you, eyes pitiful.

"Don't look at me like that!"

Wonwoo, the bespectacled one, sighed and sat up straight.

"Look, this isn't a prank. We had to bargain you for um…"

In the middle of his words he gradually lost steam, and began to feel your furious, scrutinizing gaze. For better or worse, he suddenly found the garlic shrimp on his plate quite interesting.

"Alright, let me handle this!" Soonyoung proudly declared, yet nonetheless deflated after you gave him a similar glare. "Wonwoo...you should handle this after all…"

With a face that may seem calm, Wonwoo conveniently concealed his discomfort.

"So, um...alright, allow me to explain. I got a bit of a lead on the investigation we're doing and thus, following that trail led me to the ball," he continued, "Apparently, there will be a gathering of the people involved during the evening, and I needed to get in with Soonyoung. So I asked some help, and in exchange, they wanted you."

After listening to his story, you closed your eyes and sighed heavily. There was no way you could stop him even if you wanted to. The deal was done and he had the invitation.

"So, who's they?"

You asked, a bit annoyed but you understood the need.

"That would be me."

A familiar voice startled you from behind, as you finally caught a glimpse of the devil Wonwoo had to make a pact with.

"Jihoon, didn't know you were there," Wonwoo remarked, as the new arrival bent down and passed a heavy binder to him.

"I just arrived really. Thank you for the reading notes though," he replied, paying you and Soonyoung no heed. "Anyway, Y/N, please return to our room as soon as you finish class. We have to talk about what you're going to wear for the ball."

Jihoon ordered, then stalked away without waiting for a reply, leaving you taken aback.

After a few moments, you turned to Wonwoo wearing a rather frightening expression on your face.

"Jeon Wonwoo! How dare you bargain me to Lee Jihoon!!"

◇

'Do you despise Lee Jihoon that much?'

The voice inside your head asked, completely eclipsing the words of your professor.

'Do you really have to talk to me during class? ' You snarled, spinning your pen around as you watched one of your classmates getting scolded for sleeping.

'You don't even like this class. So I'm actually doing you a favor by entertaining you.’

'Touché.'

A few moments of silence passed before your soulmate replied. You thought he bailed out, yet that was definitely not the case.

'Lee Jihoon is the reason why you seem troubled today, isn't it?'

You sighed. 'How obstinate...'

'As obstinate as you, in fact. Have you forgotten that we're soulmates?'

Clicking your tongue, you knew he was going to bother you if you didn't answer, and well, the words from a month ago rang deep inside your heart: Accept them and learn.

'Fine, he does upset me. I mean, I was not supposed to go to that pretentious ball, now I have to wear those heavy dresses and fake laugh with people I despise a lot! I could be doing something else, you know! Something I enjoy more!'

It took him some time to reply. It's not your fault you had no one to talk about it. Wonwoo and Soonyoung literally sacrificed you.

'Is it not because you dislike him?'

'I am irritated now because of what he did, yet I surely do not harbor stronger hatred towards him. I live with him after all.'

'I see. So you simply have a dislike towards parties in general?'

'Not entirely. I don't mind going to parties, yet this one particular ball does not sit well with me.'

'Why so?'

You propped your chin on your hand as you leafed through the pages of your textbook.

'It goes against everything I believe in. Why do people have to organize such expensive balls? Wearing expensive clothes? Eating expensive food? They could just donate that money. Don't you think so?'

He hummed, thinking of a reply. 'You do have a point. Furthermore, it is not only this country's problem yet of entire humanity. Isn't it human nature to be greedy? Isn't it the nature of material objects to be scarce?'

'Thus, it is an unavoidable, inevitable problem, you mean to say? Well, that would definitely be the case if no effort is afforded to find a solution to this problem. No matter how minute my actions are, I'm sure they would still have a rippling effect.'

The person on the other side scoffed. 'If only that is how simple things are.'

'What do you mean by that? Are you calling me naive?'

He laughed. 'Whatever you think it is shall be its meaning.'

You were about to interject with your own retort yet was unable to catch up.

'Well, looks like I still have things to do. It was a pleasure talking to you today. Until then, my soulmate.'

And with that, the connection halted.

You sighed and slumped on your seat with lips pursed. It was difficult talking to him while keeping your own pride in check. He was definitely talented in wounding it.

They would magnify your insecurities, your fears, your greatest flaws as a person, and force you to face them.

Sighing, you glanced at the bell that had begun to signal the end of class.

◇

Bathed in golden sunlight, you entered your dorm room as instructed by Lee Jihoon.

It has been a month since you began living here yet the days seemed to have gone in a flash. To be honest, other than that time you saw him practicing with his cello, there was little to no interaction between you and Lee Jihoon. He really made sure to avoid me…

Yet right now, so suddenly…what has changed?

Opening the french doors like you did when you first met him, you were greeted by several female attendants and rows of clothes racks, each having a massive collection of gowns.

"Took you long enough to return."

Someone suddenly spoke behind you, making you jump in surprise. Taking a step back, you only bumped into Lee Jihoon's chest.

"I had to go to the library on the way here," you replied, making some distance between the two of you as the black-haired male marched his way to a vacant armchair.

"I see. Well then, shall we begin our business here?" He asked as soon as he was settled on his seat, glancing at the gowns at the side.

"Exactly what I had in mind. Do you wish to explain what these are for?"

With an expression that reeked irritation, Jihoon gave no response to a question he assumed you knew the answer to.

You sighed. "What I mean is, I thought you had already chosen something for me, so I was quite surprised to see all of these."

The both of you simply gazed at one another without uttering a single word. Only the sound of the clock ticking and the afternoon bells outside could be heard as you allowed yourselves to be absorbed in your own little trance. Until Jihoon finally relented and stood up.

"I just thought you would rather choose something akin to your own preference," he told you, scratching his nape, "additionally, these ones here are all about to be thrown out, so maybe you--"

"These ones are about to be thrown out?! But they still look so pretty!" You interrupted, wholly surprised as you inspected the exquisite bead work of the nearest dress to you.

"It's common for people in the upper class to throw away gowns after wearing it once. So I thought you'd appreciate wearing something like this rather than having something new ordered. We could give away the other ones here as well," Jihoon explained, now a bit conscious of your reaction.

Chuckling at how he was slowly becoming bashful, you threw a wide grin at him which Jihoon was sure had definitely caught his breath.

"That was so thoughtful of you! Thank you!" You exclaimed, now more than interested to browse at the racks.

Unable to respond, Jihoon silently allowed you to check out the dresses while he tried to conceal the fact that his ears had turned red.

"What about you though? Have you already chosen something for yourself?" You asked in the midst of trying out one blue sequined gown.

"Since I’m a member of the Parliament, we have to wear a standard ceremonial uniform," he replied, now seated back on the armchair.

"Is that so?" You hummed then continued, "I think I've decided on one so allow me to finish."

After some time, you returned to the common room, showing Jihoon the gown you had picked for the occasion.

In a beige off-shoulder gown filled with lace trims and appliques, peacock feather patterns of sequins and gemstones, and dangling diamonds, you twirled around the room as the late afternoon sunlight created surreal reflections of light as it reflected on your dress.

In Jihoon's eyes, you were dazzling, sparkling. He could feel his heart almost explode by how hard it was beating against his chest. What's missing though was a bouquet of roses and a lace veil. This is vexing...

"So what do you think?" You asked, now incredibly self-conscious because of how he was staring at you.

Again, Jihoon was quiet as he glanced at you, yet allowed a sigh to escape before he stood up from where he was sitting. Approaching the coffee table, he picked up a lacquered box and went back to where you were standing.

As he opened the box, you caught a glimpse of a necklace adorned with diamonds, garnets and rubies, sparkling earnestly. Handing the box to one of the attendants, Jihoon held out the necklace to you and wrapped it around your neck.

The close proximity made your heart race for a bit as you unintentionally took a whiff of his cologne. Aware of your reaction, you averted your gaze elsewhere in embarrassment. You were brought back to the present when Jihoon finally took a step back and you felt the weight of the necklace on your skin.

"Oh...wow, this…" you began yet cannot finish.

"It's a family heirloom so take care of it." Then in a rather unexpected turn, Jihoon smiled at you warmly, making your heart race even further. "It suits you quite well."

Unable to contain it any longer, your lips broke out a wide grin. "I suppose this is a loan then."

In a rather good mood, Jihoon took your hand in his. "How about we practice our dance? Surely, we wouldn't want to embarrass ourselves during the First Waltz."

You scoffed. "Despite how I may appear, I am capable of a simple waltz."

"That's reassuring then," he remarked, twirling you around so suddenly that had you gasping.

Back in his arms, the both of you moved back and forth as your feet danced to an imaginary melody.

You never shied away from his intense gaze, rather, you accepted the challenge and smirked at him.

"So, my dear sir, please answer this burning question I have in my heart," you mocked him playfully.

"Why are you talking to me like that?" He furrowed his brows which you found adorable.

"I thought since we are to attend such a high profile event, utter politeness is necessary, even in speech."

Jihoon frowned, unimpressed. "Please stop teasing me. What was your question, by the way?"

Chuckling, you replied, "What are you planning, Lee Jihoon?"

Even though you were still smiling, the atmosphere suddenly turned tense. Lee Jihoon can flatter you with pretty dresses and beautiful diamond necklaces yet you never cared much for them in the first place. To you, his actions were suspicious and it didn't help that he was a rather mysterious person.

"Planning? Pardon me yet I do not know what you are pertaining to," he replied, as calm as you were.

"What are you planning by choosing me as your partner? You could have made Wonwoo bargain a million other things, yet you chose me."

This time, it was Jihoon's turn to smirk.

"I was simply confirming a few hunches, though that does not mean I will divulge them to you."

This bastard…

You felt a sweatdrop trickle down your cheek as you grit your teeth. "I am not your toy."

"I wouldn't dream of treating you as such," he grinned at you, "More than anything, you are quite important to me."

"I'd rather wish not to be involved in your political ploys," you seethed.

He arched a brow at you. "Why would I? You are a mere alchemist's daughter whose political power is the same as the next person."

You knew where this was going. You spoke no word as you tried to control your expression; not allowing him to see it in your face.

Jihoon smirked, his words hanging on the air.

"Unless, you have more than you let on?"

One week later

The Grand Royal Ball, The Crystal Palace

You kept a tight smile.

The tip of your nose was itching, your skin unused to the makeup covering your face. Superficiality lingered and clung to every corner of the palace from its golden ornaments and marble balustrades to the couples ahead of you, marching their way towards the ballroom for the much awaited First Waltz.Yet you have to smile on.

Welcome to the Grand Royal Ball!

Beside you was Lee Jihoon, dressed in an attire reserved for high-ranking officials and a sash which proudly broadcasts that he was someone you wouldn't want to mess with. You, on the other hand, wore the gown and the necklace you had tried on a week before, with hair coiffed to perfection and silk gloves which hid the markings on your wrist.

Only the most prominent, the highest of the high were invited to dance during the First Waltz. From billionaire philanthropists and award-winning researchers to powerful politicians like Lee Jihoon, they all provide a sense of prestige to the whole event. This is when the ball catches so much attention after all.

Lining up uniformly, everyone participating curtsied before the reigning monarch as was the custom, and the music began playing. Facing Jihoon, you gave him a rather mocking smile as you placed your hand on his shoulder and the other on his hand.

Without a word, everyone began dancing.

As you stepped across the ballroom, you allowed your mind to slip away from reality; the face of Lee Jihoon reminding you why you were putting up with this sort of pompous absurdity in the first place.

A few days ago…

You groaned in frustration.

"I swear, Lee Jihoon is the most irritating man I've ever met in my entire life!"

"Let's wait for him to fall asleep and beat him up, Y/N!" Soonyoung, who was happily lazing on the grass exclaimed.

"Come on, then! He's already asleep at this hour!" You responded, quite eagerly.

Simply sighing at your shenanigans, Wonwoo closed the book he was reading.

"Don't listen to him, Y/N. He's drunk," he remarked.

"But I haven't been drinking!!"

The other man simply looked at him with a jaded look on his face.

"You're always drunk even without drinking anything," Wonwoo quietly retorted. "Anyway, Y/N…"

Sitting back down on the grass, you turned to him. It was already past midnight yet the three of you decided to hold a meeting at a long forgotten grove behind the dormitories, usually used by overly-zealous couples for their own pleasure.

"It's true that Jihoon can be cunning if he wants to, yet it's not like we can't do the same as well," he continued, "There's a reason why I had no reservations in bargaining you."

"That doesn't sound too comforting, you know?"

"As I was saying, Lee Jihoon can be cunning. He can't be trusted to stay at the venue while we are in that meeting. That is precisely why we have to get him out of the venue as soon as possible."

You nodded. It was the same reason why it wasn't you who was leading this investigation.

"So my job is to have him stay away from the palace while you and Soonyoung are in the meeting. Alright, I understand."

Wonwoo sighed. "Y/N, I'm not doing this because I think your skills are inadequate, but because we need to play by the rules. If things fail and our cover is blown, Soonyoung and I already have tainted names that another case wouldn't matter much. I can't have you dirty your own name."

Looking down, you understood where he was coming from. It really wasn't an issue of who's weaker or who's stronger. It was an issue of who's richer and more influential. Wonwoo and Soonyoung, because of their wealth and power, were able to establish their own newspaper company with relative ease. And with that same wealth and power, if anything does happen, the repercussions they have to face and its lasting effects wouldn't be as heavy as an ordinary person would experience. Such is the gift of privilege.

"I know. I understand."

◇

You knew, as soon as the dance ended, people would flock around Lee Jihoon, all wanting a piece of that power and influence.

That is why, when you had the chance, you slipped away from his side and went straight to the buffet tables. If you were going to attend a grand ball, might as well stuff yourself with food.

That veal over there looks scrumptious!!

Filling your plate to the brim, you scoured all over the buffet, finding food you have never dreamed of tasting.

"Y/N! We finally found you, for god's sake! We thought something happened to you!" A familiar voice exclaimed, making you look up from the plate you were feasting on, as you sat on a bench at the side.

"Ah, Soonyoung, Wonwoo! I didn't see you guys at the dance!" You replied, piercing a turkey leg with your fork.

"Well, that's because we weren't invited to the dance. Our parents are though, since they are the VIPs," Wonwoo explained.

You hummed. "I see. Well, so far this ball has delicious food. Other than that, it's quite boring. I don't know half these people, and they've been looking at me since a while ago."

Like he always is, Soonyoung embraced you from behind, wrapping his arms around your neck with a cheeky green.

"Your date is quite popular, you know? It's only natural for people to be curious as to the identity of his chosen date," he remarked, taking a bite of meat from your fork.

"You're making it sound so romantic," you spat with disdain.

Soonyoung grinned. "Come on, don't you feel anything for our resident politician? You two were dancing so nicely earlier, you know."

You clicked your tongue. "He's suspicious of me. I think he has a hunch that I'm Alex Fireflower."

"This is why the Soulmate Bond hasn't visited you yet! You're always so serious! You need to loosen up and have a bit of romance in your life! You can't be young forever!"

"I think Soonyoung has a point here though," Wonwoo suddenly interjected, now with a mischievous smile. "Dating Lee Jihoon could open various opportunities of information gathering. Moreover, you can monitor him more closely than ever before."

"Oh god, not you too. Isn't it enough that we're roommates?" You complained, sighing.

"No, no! That's not going to cut it, Y/N!" Soonyoung exclaimed, "You have to get inside his room!"

Glaring at him, you hissed harshly. "I will not enter his room! And I will never date him!"

"Has no one ever told you to avoid using 'never', especially when there is a chance that you will be eating your own words in the near future?"

A new voice suddenly interrupted your banter as the three of you glanced at the newcomer with a variety of expressions.

In his calm yet intimidating aura, Lee Jihoon stood before you three, waiting for a response. Of course, with a glass of wine in his hands.

"Has no one ever told you that it's not good manners to eavesdrop on other people's conversations?" You retorted back.

With arched brows, Jihoon approached you and glanced at Soonyoung who eventually retreated away from you and back to Wonwoo's side with a nervous look on his face.

"It's hardly eavesdropping when I can hear you three screaming from the other side of the room."

At this comment, the three of you looked away in shame, unable to say anything to refute Jihoon.

"If there is nothing else, may I borrow my date for a while?" He then spoke, reaching for your hand while looking at Wonwoo and Soonyoung.

Grinning, the two easily offered you.

"Please do, Jihoon (before we turn into mincemeat)."

"Oh of course, please enjoy the rest of the night!"

You grit your teeth and glared at them, annoyed that you weren't able to finish your meal, much less bring anything with you back home.

Traitors! I'll come back for you two after this!

As Jihoon swept you away from the buffet tables and towards the deserted balcony, you suddenly began to worry about what he was up to.

While dark and cool, the balcony was a pleasant place to escape to especially from a crowd of prying eyes. The crawling rose vines and the tall hedges concealed the area enough so that it was difficult to discern who was who in the balcony.

"What is it that you want from me?" You finally asked, standing face to face.

For a moment, Jihoon simply gazed at you before shrugging. "I just thought that since we are already here, we might as well enjoy a dance together. I am not one unkind enough to refuse dancing with my own date."

Arching a brow, you blinked several times, totally suspicious of his intentions. You sighed.

"And here I thought the thirty minute waltz from earlier would suffice," tartly, that was how you replied.

Jihoon snorted, the first one you have seen.

"That was simply a mere performance, one that is born out of tradition and formality. This time, I wish to dance with you at our own pace."

Still suspicious, yet nonetheless resigned, you hummed in agreement and took a step forward, towards him.

Without warning, you snatched the wine glass from his grasps and drank everything in one gulp before discarding it on the balustrade's edge, earning a confused look on Jihoon's face.

"Now then, shall we begin?" you replied, reaching for his shoulder and his own hand on yours.

It seemed like for a moment, Jihoon was stunned by how fast your actions were. However, it didn't take him long to come back to his senses and place a hand on your waist.

Gradually, the both of you swung back and forth a millisecond late from the music's beat, simply too absorbed in each other to correct it.

As you gazed into Jihoon's eyes, you knew you needed that swig of alcohol to survive the whole night. He was as intense as ever; his sharp eyes unreadable, his lips curving into a ghost of a smirk. The grip he had on your waist was firm, sending shivers to your spine.

You need to loosen up and have a bit of romance in your life!

Dating Lee Jihoon could open various opportunities...

You mentally shook those thoughts away. This wasn't the right time to think about those things.

"I've changed my mind, you know?" Jihoon finally spoke, his voice pulling you away from your reverie.

"About what?" You asked, your hand warm on his.

"I want to know you better. I know when we first met, I didn't want anything to do with you, but for some reason, my sentiments have changed over time."

Flustered at the sudden confession, you were only able to say one thing, "Why?"

"Why…? Why indeed," he made a soft smile at this, as if he knew something that was totally lost to you. "Maybe if I get to know you more, I might arrive at an answer."

You looked away, unable to face his earnest eyes. There was a feeling in you that knows he was being honest, yet you still couldn't help but feel suspicious. Why is he suddenly springing this up on me? Why does he want to know me? What is he planning? Who exactly is Lee Jihoon?

You also didn't know the answer to those questions. But maybe, just maybe, you would understand if you just let him in.

You need to loosen up and have a bit of romance in your life!

God damn it, Soonyoung!

"If that is the case, then feel free to explore, yet that does not mean, the seas are not treacherous," you finally said, your lips curving into a mischievous smile.

"I wouldn't want anything else."

Grinning back at you, Jihoon leaned forward and placed a small chaste kiss on your forehead, making you look at him with the most stunned expression on your face.

"I-I...I think I might want to have another drink! J-just stay there! I'll be back!"

As you shouted, you stormed away from the balcony and went straight back to the buffet tables, seeking anything that is liquid, alcoholic or cold to ease the burning on your cheeks.

"Yes, it seems like I made the right decision with choosing her as my date," he remarked as he watched your retreating figure, smirking to himself.

By the time you went back, you had already downed a few glasses, and another one on your hand to drink for later. You were tipsy then, as obvious as your flushed cheeks were, and Jihoon had to catch you before you stumbled onto the ground.

"You seemed to have drunk a lot," he remarked as he steadied you on your step.

"...Need it," you muttered, unable to look at him.

"What?"

"Jihoon…" purring, you clung to his lapel with a giggle, your face simply inches away from his. "You...you look quite handsome…have I told you that?"

With a smirk, you inched closer to him; lips almost brushing against each other. That is, until he turned his head and pushed you away.

"It's late...we should head home."

His ears were red though.

◇

The school was silent during the dead hours of the night. Students were either prohibited by their curfews or too busy studying to bother with fooling around. Only the soft rustling of wisteria and cherry blossom flowers and the loud ramblings of a drunkard could be heard across the courtyard.

"Jihoonie~ come on now…don't touch me there," you teased between giggles as he carried you behind his back.

"Please don't be too loud…"

"I'm not loud! In fact, I'm quite soft spoken~"

"What did I get myself into…?"

You were definitely heavy; and with the weight of the whole dress, Jihoon was already wheezing when he opened the door to your shared dormitory and carried you to your own bed.

Gently laying you down, Jihoon spent a few moments gazing at you who was smiling at him carelessly.

"Oh my…" a giggle, "are you going to confess your undying love to me now…?" You asked, making him grin at you.

"Would you believe me if I did?" Jihoon responded, slowly reaching for your wrist wrapped in a silk and lace glove.

"Of course not," you smirked. "You're Lee Jihoon."

Upon your words, he made a small smile, yet it had hinted some sort of deeper sadness. Lifting your hand up, Jihoon kissed the inside of your wrist.

"Of course."

A/N: Hii!! This is Hyeri again!! No new chapters for next week (instead some Jihoon smut, if you like those sksksk) Hopefully, after that week, regular updates on this fic will continue! (maybe punctuated by some Wonwoo smut;;; Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter!!! Thank you so much!!

-Hyeri

#seventeen #svtcreations #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen woozi #lee jihoon #woozi fluff #the most convenient escape #chapter 3

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midorichan10 · 6 years ago

Text

KnB Stageplay Ultimate Blaze Report (5/5, 5/11, 5/19 Livestream)

Okay I know I said I’d do my report after my second viewing on the 11th but then the finale was on the 19th so I thought I’d wait til then so it’d be easier to remember everything. A 3.5 hour play is super long....

So I watched the play live on the 5th and 11th, and the finale on livestream on the 19th. This is the very last Kurosute ever...Thank you Kurosute for 4 years of wonderful casting and performances. I also want to thank Ono Kensho for once again doing an outstanding job of his role as Kuroko.

FYI, for those who also watched the livestream or plan to purchase the delayed stream, sharing pictures/screenshots or clips in public is prohibited. As such, I will not have any pictures included in this report. Please support the franchise by purchasing the DVD or Blu-Ray.

Major spoilers ahead. Proceed if you only wish to be spoiled. Again, this was a 3.5 hour play so this is VERY, VERY, long.

EDIT: This took me two days to type out ORZ

Before the play starts, Tsuchida’s actor has a voice over on the intercom about stageplay rules and manners. Turn off/mute your phone, no recording, etc. It’s nice that they had him still do his rules even though he wasn’t in the play. ;w;

The play opens up with the Yosen and Seirin scoreboard and Haizaki walking in the audience

Haizaki goes up to a random girl in the audience and flirts with her asking for her phone number.

On the show on the 5th the girl just tried to ignore him lmao

Kagami walks on stage and sees him and calls him out. Haizaki then confronts him saying he beat Mukkun and taunts him until a ball is thrown from the side at him. Kise comes on stage and the whole Haizaki and Kise bickering proceeds.

Haizaki gets REALLY close to Kise like literally breathing down the neck kind of close. How Mario didn’t flinch is beyond me.

Kagami learns that Kise has never beaten Haizaki, and eventually Haizaki leaves. Kise tells Kagami to leave Haizaki up to him.

Kise leaves and Kuroko comes on, using misdirection on Kagami. Kagami asks Kuroko who Haizaki is and that he’s met him. Kuroko explains he’s a former teammate but that he was still a regular so regardless he’s a strong player. Hyuuga and Seirin come telling them off and says they’re going to watch the first quarterfinal match of Kaijou vs Fukuda Sougo.

The opening song for this play’s dance is “Memories.” Personally this is my favorite one so far. I think I have the team order for this correctly...

Opens up with Seirin then switches to Kaijou proceeded by Shuutoku. Then there’s a Kaijou Shuutoku and Haizaki segment.

I just want to say how good Haizaki’s actor is and how his moves were so appropriate as Haizaki....wow

Seirin comes back on for a bit then exits with Aomine and Momoi taking over.

Oh, for the 5th I had Airi (new Momoi) and 11th and 19th were Arisa (original Momoi)

Mukkun does his own dancing segment between Aomine and Momoi

for the 19th finale he danced with a lollipop in his mouth. Isnt’ that dangerous? Lol

Akashi comes out with his jacket on his shoulders to the front of the stage, Then quickly takes it off and runs back. Rakuzan then dances in the front (without Akashi) and Seirin joins back on.

For the instrumental intermission, Kuroko goes to the center and each of the GoM come out and then surround him and do a short dance ending with a dance motion of their signature move/pose.

GoM exit and Kuroko watches Akashi run off (who went directly back) with a pained face, and Ogiwara runs out all smiley (seriously protect this boy he’s so pure) . Ogiwara runs off to the side and Kuroko chases after him. As Kuroko still looks pained, Kagami comes out on the other side and the two walk towards the center and meet in a fist bump.

The last chorus everyone (except Ogiwara) comes out. (Yes, including Mayuzumi). The song ends with each team forming a group pose (Except Rakuzan, Mayuzumi runs off before they form a pose)

All the other teams run off leaving Seirin left, and the senpais then exit leaving only Kuroko and Kagami to do one last running motion as the display title falls on the back. The two of them fist bump again as the title falls.

The play resumes with the match against Kaijou and Fukuda already starting. There are two other members on Fukuda besides Haizaki (apparently they are Ogiwara and Mayuzumi’s actors in black wigs hahahaha)

As always, the match more or less follows the manga/anime so I’ll leave out most of the story details. Most of it is gameplay anyway.

In this play, they’ve really incorporated more ball handling, aka using the real ball.

Seirin is watching in the back. At some point Aomine and Momoi join in to watch. (I can’t remember if Mukkun joins in to watch here or later...I’m almost certain he joins later)

After the match with Kaijou’s victory, Kise limps off with his injured leg. Then Haizaki walks back on stage, looking for Kise. Aomine sees him and tells him Kise hasn’t come out yet from the stadium. The two have their argument and Haizaki tries to punch Aomine but Aomine beats him too it. Aomine always says some sort of variation of “Oops..I did it....Eh, he’ll be fine”

Scene changes to Kagami calling someone, which is revealed to be Kuroko, saying his shoes broke. Kuroko replies how his feet are unnecessarily big (Kagami: OI!!). Kuroko says he’ll have to call ‘that person.’

‘That person’ is revealed to be Momoi as she runs up and gives Kuroko a tight hug. She tells Kagami that Aomine will give him one of his many shoes and that Kagami’s the type that wears by model rather than care for color.

As Aomine and Kagami are playing basketball in the back (Aomine lecturing him) , Momoi tells Kuroko about Aomine punching Haizaki.

Aomine finishes the quick game and convinces Kagami to accept the shoes.

The scene ends with Kagami and Aomine stupidly arguing and Momoi and Kuroko are literally dragging them off the stage.

For the May 5th show, they just literally drag them off

For the May 11th and 19th, Kuroko jabs Kagami in the stomach and pushes him off as Momoi pulls Aomine off.

Midorima walks on stage prepared for the semifinals.

His lucky item is a giant shogi piece

The rest of Shuutoku join him and the senpai question why the shogi piece is so big. Miyaji asks Midorima what rank is Cancer that day and he says 2nd and he gets mad. Takao says Midorima is never wrong with Oha Asa but Miyaji asks for a pineapple from Kimura (off stage) anyway.

Shuutoku is introduced as the first team of the semifinals with Rakuzan following (except Mayuzumi).

Seirin is in the back again and Hyuuga explains how the other Uncrowned Kings are in Rakuzan with Akashi.

The Shuutoku supporters are ‘jacket mob’ actors which are Haizaki and Kaijou

Haizaki’s actor kept dancing around with Mario.....

Ogiwara’s actor is the referee for this match.

Again , more gameplay here. For the actual story read the manga or watch the anime.

For the May 11th show, there were a lot of ball handling errors here.

Otsubo was supposed to pass a ball to Midorima but Nebuya accidentally caught it instead, so he quickly passed it back to Otsubo who passed it to Midorima again.

Midorima ‘shot’ the ball but the ball bounced against a railing and into the audience. It was during the part where he and Takao do the miracle shot. In the script, the senpais pat and hug Midorima and Takao for pulling off the play anyway but for this show they gave Midorima extra hugs and paps for the mistake. How sweet.

One of Reo’s shots also bounced against a railing but it was towards the back so the ball just rolled behind the front fence

Akashi uses a real ball for his Ankle Break. He dribbles the ball around his legs and finishes with the ball going between his legs and catches it. I’ve never seen him mess up nor seen any reports of him doing so.

Mukkun joins Aomine and Momoi in watching the match.

During Hayama’s speed dribble, everyone who is watching ‘shakes’ to the vibration. I don’t know whose idea it was but Mukkun excessively shakes to the point he looks like he’s being electrocuted or something haha. Oh yeah, he’s eating Pocky in this match, real Pocky.

Mayuzumi was out most of the match but occasionally you see him run past between the main fence as he ‘passes’ the ball to Akashi.

When Shuutoku loses, Takao and Midorima are crying real tears. For the finale, everyone was crying...

The scene immediately changes to playing Punky Funky Love and Kaijo senpais practicing. Talk about a mood change. I was still crying over Midorima crying....

It’s a flashback of when Kise joins Kaijou and Kasamatsu explaining how the senpai have worked longer than him.

Just as Kise leaves, Kuroko and Kagami join the stage and they make eye contact with each other.

Of course as usual, before a break there is the Kagami vs Kuroko janken game. Usually involving Kuroko asking for a longer break and him mostly losing. For this break, it was 10 minutes.

May 5th janken- Kuroko tells Kagami that ten minutes is fine, much to Kagami’s surprise. Instead, Kuroko wagers that if he wins, Kagami must treat him to this fancy eel later. Kuroko wins and Onoken posts on Twitter that Yuya did indeed buy him the eel lmao

May 11th janken-Kuroko again tells Kagami that a ten minute break is fine. This time if he wins, he’ll switch to speaking ‘tameguchi’ which is using the casual form of Japanese (like basically everyone else, aka not using ‘desu/masu’). He actually switches to ‘tameguchi’ as he’s talking to Kagami, and Kagami’s trying his best not to laugh. At some point he says it’s annoying haha. Kagami wins so Kuroko’s like ‘well I guess I’m not speaking in ‘tameguchi’

May 19th- it’s their last time to do janken so Kuroko suggests that this time they just play janken for the heck of it. Kagami’s surprised but goes with it. Kuroko wins to his delight, but Kagami being stubborn begs for one more chance. Kuroko allows it, and they have one more match. Kagami wins and Kuroko kneels in defeat.

Other adlibs I’ve heard were Kuroko asking Kagami to buy him boba tea, and the usual longer breaks like 3 hours.

The second chapter opens with one of the ‘jacket mob people’ making sure the audience’s phones are off. The rest of the jacket mobs come out holding various items, such as a camera, cheering horns, towels, and one member has a corndog.......

These are the Shuutoku+Haizaki and Rakuzan actors.

Akashi was the smallest one with the camera on the Rakuzan side. Also he just had Yohchans body structure anyway I mean-no

The corndog guy was on the Shuutoku+Haizaki side, I’m not sure which it was since it was harder to tell who was who (except Takao)

Seirin and Kaijou are introduced and the second semifinal match begins

May 11-Another mistake in this match. Kise jumps to knock a ball out of someone’s hand from Seirin, but the ball hits a railing and bounces back onto the court so Hayakawa quickly picks it up and throws it off stage

May 11- Kise shoots the ball but either doesn’t put enough power into it or shoots in the wrong curtain so the ball ended up going to Kiyoshi who was just coming out from the side.

The jacket mob members act as the ‘fans’ in the stands. Both support Kaijou at first then Rakuzan cheers for Seirin and Shuutoku+Haizaki for Kise.

For Kagami’s line “This is our drama!” Hyuuga and Kuroko had the most outstanding ‘wtf’ faces

When Kagami said it, he puts his hand and fists together. So Izuki repeats him and continuously punches his hand like a bodybuilder.

Hyuuga taunts Kiyoshi with the “Iron Heart” nickname. For the finale he gets everyone in the audience to chant “Iron Heart” with him and Kiyoshi gets mad, “EVEN IF ITS YOU OR THE AUDIENCE I’LL GET MAD AT YOU GUYS!”

When Kaijou loses, Kise cries real tears, every time when he says he wanted to win with everyone.

For the finale, the other members of Kaijou are seen crying too when they lose...

After Kaijou walks off stage with Kise crying, Seirin comment how they made it to the finals and look at the scoreboard which has now changed to Seirin vs Rakuzan.

Kagami walks on stage noticing his necklace is missing. He starts to look for it and Midorima walks on with his giant shogi piece with the necklace. After he gives it back to Kagami, Kuroko walks on with Takao following.

As Kuroko and Takao are talking, Kagami and Midorima are talking (whispering) to each other. Usually it’s about Kagami pointing out Midorima’s shogi piece and for the May 5th show he even tried to take it much to Midorima’s displeasure.

Midorima tells Takao they’re leaving before telling Kagami there’s two Akashi and tells him to ask Kuroko about it.

Here some really dark music plays and I wish they had a soundtrack for this play.....because wow I got chills

Kuroko tells Kagami that he’ll explain what Midorima meant by the ‘two Akashi’s’ by telling everyone about ‘our past’

At this moment, the instrumental for the Teiko ending song, Ambivalence, plays and Ogiwara runs out (Kagami exits and Kuroko moves so he’s behind Ogiwara who’s facing us). Ogiwara then says “Are you alone? I’m Ogiwara Shigehiro! Let’s play basketball together!” and the stage fades into darkness. This marks the end of chapter 2 and a 15 minute break before the last chapter of the play. During the break the instrumental for Ambivalence is still playing so we’re all just preparing ourselves for the feels.

*Note: The Teiko arc is briefly covered in the play, but the actual arc itself is covered in the Teiko Reading screening which was available to stream online and in select theaters before the play, including scenes with Nijimura and Coach Sanada. The Teiko Reading only goes up to right before the match between Teiko and Meiko. The play covers highlights of the Teiko arc and the Teiko vs Meiko match. For those who were unable to watch the Teiko Reading, it’ll be included in the Ultimate Blaze DVD/Blu-Ray.

The third chapter opens up with Ogiwara and Kuroko playing basketball together and Ogiwara confessing that he’ll be moving. The two promise to play against each other in junior high school.

Kuroko explains how by second year, he had moved up to the regulars and he and Ogiwara keep in contact with each other.

Each of the GoM come out in their Teiko practice shirts (and colorful shorts....)

Mukkun had red shorts and Kise had neon green.......

For every other GoM member, they had a dramatic DON! when they appeared. For Kise, he had a super *SPARKLE” effect as he did a double peace sign and smiled. Kuroko comes out last and his is his ‘misdirection’ sound effect that is often used in the play for him.

Oh yeah, Momoi is here too as she watches over them/Aomine.

The Teiko members do some practicing.

Akashi (who is receiving the passes from someone off stage) passes the ball to the rest of the members on stage.

The scene shows how Kuroko and Aomine work well together.

The scene changes and Kuroko narrates how Aomine has started missing practice. They discuss that maybe he had a valid reason and then the stage darkens to just Kuroko who confirms that the reason for Aomine’s absence was that he was ditching. He calls Ogiwara for advice, who said that Aomine is different from Haizaki in which he actually enjoys basketball and the problem is because he likes basketball. He tells Kuroko that since Aomine helped him, Kuroko needs to be there for Aomine.

Aomine comes on in his Teiko jersey, having regained his happiness with Momoi watching. However the other players give up and he in turn gives up playing his hardest. (there’s no players on the stage but you have the image based on the sound effects). Kuroko walks on smiling for a fistbump but Aomine walks away saying his “The only one who can beat me is me’ line.

Kuroko gets a call from Ogiwara later saying that he lost in the first round, and that their promise will have to wait til next year.

For the finale, Ogiwara was almost crying, or he was crying....save this boy please.

Kuroko and Momoi talk about Aomine, making no progress. And Momoi asks him if they’ll always be together, in which Kuroko is hesitant to answer.

Slowly, the other GOM members (minus Akashi) slowly realize their abilities.

Mukkun with his ability to block, Midorima with his ability to shoot.

Kuroko then finds Aomine by the river, and the whole “I don’t remember how to receive your passes” scene plays out.

Aomine’s face looks so pained here /cries.

Back at the gym, the rest of the GOM are wondering about Coach Sanada’s approval of Aomine ditching practice, and Mukkun wants to ditch too. Akashi tells him that’s not allowed and the Mukkun vs. Akashi match starts with Bokushi awakening.

Akashi’s acting was so good, the contrast between Ore and Boku. And the music for Bokushi’s appearance was spine-chilling....I want the soundtrack for this please....

They use a mix of actual ball-handling and using an ‘air’ ball. Even without the ball you can tell Akashi’s actor is really good at basketball.

Akashi declares as long as they win, no one needs to show up for practice, much to Midorima’s shock.

Kuroko returns and asks Akashi who he is, and Akashi responds, “Of course, I’m Akashi Seijuurou.”

Months pass and the GOM are unbeatable and getting bored in matches, so Kise suggests making it a competition of who can score the most, with even Akashi joining in.

Ogiwara happily tells Kuroko they made it to the finals, but Kuroko is unhappy with the current atmosphere of the club. He asks Akashi to let him start out in the semi-finals, which Akashi permits.

Ogiwara is impressed with how much Kuroko has improved.

Kuroko gets hit in the head by the other team and is taken to the nurse.

Ogiwara talks with Akashi about Kuroko, and asks Akashi if basketball is fun. Akashi responds he doesn’t understand such a question.

Kuroko asks to play but Akashi tells him no under doctor’s orders, and tells him Ogiwara’s message about playing each other agian someday. Kuroko asks Akashi to not hold back against Meiko.

Despite losing 111-109, Ogiwara is fighting back against Teiko, telling his teammates to score one basket and losing proudly.

Ogiwara shoots and misses, and Aomine complains how they gave him the chance and tells Mukkun to shoot it.

Ogiwara, on the ground, looks at them in confusion to why they would score on their own basket.

Kise happily announces how they reached their goal and that they’re all matching, and points to the scoreboard to reveal the score of 111-11.

Kuroko comes out to see a heartbroken Ogiwara, who looks at him before leaving the stage.

Kuroko talks how painful it is, and what is victory. Onoken’s acting here was emotional, as expected from already portraying Kuroko in the anime.

The GOM come out and line up behind Kuroko similar to the panel in the manga.

Kuroko announces his resignation.

Kuroko narrates how Ogiwara has transferred, and Ogiwara comes out on stage saying how the GOM had such cold eyes, but Kuroko can melt that coldness.

Kagami then comes out, and scolds Kuroko along with the rest of Seirin.

Hyuuga gets mad at both of them and sends Izuki and Koganei to drag Kuroko off and give him a tickle attack. Riko follows.

Kiyoshi and Hyuuga comment how it was a sad story and that Kuroko never talks about himself like that, so now they must win.

The next day is the Kaijou vs Shuutoku match for third place and the finals.

Mukkun meets up with Aomine and Momoi, who talk about who would win. They say third place is decided but the finals could be anyone.

Kise is on the bench due to his injury, and Shuutoku easily wins the third place match.

Midorima tells Kise their match is ‘postponed’ for now.

Kise gets annoyed saying, “WELL OF COURSE. IF I WAS IN THERE I’D WIN”

Kise and Midorima continue to bicker.

Kasamatsu and Otsubo just look at each other and let their kouhais fight it out.

Towards the second half of the runs, when Midorima points his finger at Kise, Kise actually bites his finger. No, I mean it. He actually bites it. Midorima gets grossed out by it.

Midorima: EW SO GROSS NANODAYO Kise: I’M NOT GROSS. I’M PRETTY.

^yes, those were actual lines.

Now it’s time for Seirin vs Rakuzan.

Haizaki’s actor is the referee.

For the tip-off, Nebuya gets upset that Kiyoshi isn’t the one jumping.

Seirin declares Mayuzumi not a threat since there’s little information on him, so Aomine asks Momoi about it. This is an adlib scene and varies per show.

May 5- Aomine asks Momoi to get ‘that’ (her notebook) from her bag. Instead she pulls out one of his gravure photobooks. She proceeds to put it back but Aomine hastily takes it away. Momoi asks Mukkun if it’s in his potato chip bag. He looks in it and pulls out..................a chip. Turns out the notebook was in her bag after all, much to Aomine’s annoyance.

May 11- Instead of her notebook, Momoi kept pulling out Mukkun’s empty potato chip bags. Aomine gets mad, but Mukkun only responds, “They were yummy~.” The notebook again was in her bag after all.

May 19- similar to the May 5 adlib.

When Hayama does his dribbling, Mukkun agains shakes vigorously on the side. This time, since he has chips, he sometimes dropped them on stage. So afterwards, you would see him picking them off the ground.

Both Reo and Mayu admit how loudly annoying Hayama is (they were running across stage too )

When Nebuya gets upset that Kiyoshi doesn’t remember what he told him 2 years ago, he literally throws a tantrum on the ground.

Everyone in both Rakuzan and Seirn:.............

When Akashi goes into the Zone, he actually dribbles around everyone with the ball across the stage. Talk about coordination!

Akashi’s shocked face as he’s starting to lose was perfect too. Sorry I have a lot of Akashi notes....

As he’s starting to lose, Akashi starts switching between Oreshi and Bokushi. Oreshi’s voice has like an echo/autotune effect but it’s not a recording or anything.

Thus, the monologue between Oreshi and Bokushi was amazing. The actor constantly switches between both sides very smoothly. Give this guy an Oscar please.

When Oreshi talks about his mother, a ball falls from the sky and he hugs the ball close to him as he mentions it’s what he has left of her.

You can actually visually see the difference between Oreshi and Bokushi in face expression.

As Seirin admits defeat, they’re all collapsed on the ground, even Riko, until Ogiwara comes out and cheers for them.

Aomine shouts out from the side of the stage. In the finale he was even crying.

Kaijou and Shuutoku go in the audience and cheer for Seirin from there.

For the May 11th show I had Kaijou right behind me. Literally -screams

Aomine was crying real tears when he says “So it was you all along, Tetsu...”

For the finale was sobbing more

For the final shot, the stage goes all dark as Kuroko says “I’m a shadow.” Then Kagami comes out from behind and makes the final dunk.

Lantana then begins to play as Kagami declares Seirin the winners of Winter Cup.

In the final performance, Akashi cried as he admits his loss and even when he shook hands with Kuroko.

After Kuroko shakes hands with Akashi, and says that they can play basketball at anytime, Seirin and Rakuzan make a quick bow and run off stage.

Final Scenes

The remaining GOM come out in their uniforms, each with a basketball, and happily dribbling around the stage.

Kise sees Haizaki walking out with his shoes, about to throw them away, but Haizaki hesitates and instead hugs them close to him. He sees Kise was watching him and Kise smiles knowing Haizaki didnt’ really hate basketball after all.

The different teams come out taking a stand in front of the stage and then having a fun match against each other.

Kaijou vs Shuutoku

Seirin vs Rakuzan

The players even go up against other players that we didn’t see during the matches. Everything was so emotional and happy.

The last scene ends with Kuroko and Kagami fistbumping each other and Kagami poses as he’s about to dunk and Kuroko kneels below him fistbumping towards us as all the other players are reaching out towards Kagami.

Curtain Calls

May 5th Aichi Finale - Akashi and Reo

Reo mentions how in high school he was the only one in his group who didn’t read KnB. And now he’s IN KnB.

May 11-Kiyoshi and Koganei

They got Hyuuga to go to the center and do a big “KUROSUTE FIGHT O” cheer with the cast and audience.

May 19th-Kuroko and Kagami

This one was really emotional as it was the final performance ever. Yuya starts crying over his talk over Kagami, and he even deeply bows to Onoken to thank him.

Onoken didn’t cry but he was on the verge of doing so, his voice was shaking.

I lost count of how many curtain calls there were for the finale, but there was a lot.

Highlights

Every show Rakuzan would high-five Akashi as they left the stage

For the finale Mayuzumi even hugged Akashi, and then for another curtain call afterwards all of Rakuzan group-hugged Akashi

Kuroko and Kagami asked if the director was around, apparently he wasn’t so they asked someone to say “Thank you” in his place instead. The cast chose Akashi to say it.

Momoi ran up to Aomine and Kise and walked off together.

On one of the last curtain calls, Aomine and Kise decided to have OnoKen thrown up in the air and got everyone to join in.

Every curtain call ends with Kagami and Kuroko fistbumping each other and leaving. For the very last curtain call, it was all of Seirin together.

Kiyoshi lifts Riko up in the air for a few seconds to celebrate.

And thus concludes my last Kurosute report....please consider buying the DVD or Blu-Ray when it comes out, you won’t regret it.

Once again, thank you for four years Kurosute. Thank you cast members for doing a wonderful job portraying our beloved characters. Thank you Fujimaki-sensei for creating such a beloved series.

#kuroko no basuke #kuroko no basket #knb stageplay #kurosute

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dvp95 · 6 years ago

Text

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 3

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e (eventually)

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 3,385 for this chapter (12,653 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

Dan has been dreading the seemingly-inevitable call from his family, now that filmed interviews are being uploaded and live interviews are starting in the next few days, so he’s almost disappointed when it never comes.

Surely his parents know he’s in London. There’s promotion for his show on a couple different channels they watch, and his dad has always been fairly good at keeping up with entertainment news. Adrian follows him on Instagram, but - and Dan isn’t proud of this - he can’t remember if Adrian still lives in Wokingham or not. He can’t even remember how old Adrian is without doing the math.

So maybe they haven’t been keeping up with Netflix shit, maybe Adrian isn’t home to tell their parents that he’s in town, but surely, surely some well-meaning friend of the family will say something? That’s always been the case when he comes to town.

After almost a whole week, though, Dan cracks. He calls his mum. It goes to voicemail.

That makes him panic a little, but she texts him an, at work … call you when I’m home x. So, questionable ellipses usage aside, Dan is comfortably reassured that his entire family isn’t dead.

Dan busies himself with catching up on the Heatwave cast interviews he hasn’t watched yet. Patrick doesn’t like to watch them and Jaime couldn’t give a shit one way or the other, but Dan is unable to allow a video of him to exist without knowing exactly what it contains. That’s a control thing, mostly, but he also doesn’t want to be blindsided by a new Daniel Interview Meme that he doesn’t understand.

He types his own name into the YouTube search bar and feels his heartrate pick up when he sees a thumbnail from BBC Radio One.

Thinking about Phil makes his heart race like he’s a teenager with a crush, and he presses play just so he can listen to Phil talk. He can barely remember what he said in the interview, so completely caught up in Phil’s eyes and grin as he’d been.

The interview itself is good. Nothing special, in terms of the actual things they talk about, but Dan can feel the difference in the way he speaks to Phil versus the way he’s spoken to anyone else - comfort. He had been so immediately comfortable with their back-and-forth, only awkward because he’d been trying so hard not to think about what Phil looked like under his nice clothes.

Dan wonders if anyone else can see the difference or if he only notices because he’s so attuned to his own body language, has the advantage of knowing the whole context.

He scrolls idly through the comments and feels heat rise to his face.

Yeah. People noticed.

Lots of comments are just about Dan or the show or the lack of Patrick or Jaime, but there’s more than a few that are about Dan and Phil’s apparent chemistry. Phil, being an out gay man with no partner and a fanbase, probably has to deal with these types of comments all the time, but it’s new for Dan.

Dan shakes his head to try and clear it. He doesn’t want to get stuck in YouTube comments and feel impotent irritation every time someone replies, ‘uh, Daniel Howell is straight’, like they know him. Like he’s ever said that.

He’s been photographed with women, because he’s casually dated them over the past decade, but he’s never said he’s straight. And it never works out with them anyway.

Dating girls is fine - they’re all softness and little sighs and hands that look so extremely small wrapped in his own - but he doesn’t think he can ever be with one for a significant amount of time. That thought is one he usually keeps locked in his mental box, but. He doesn’t shy away from it this time.

Even if he could admit it to himself proper, it’s easier for Dan to just not talk about it publicly. He hasn’t dated anyone seriously enough for it to be an issue in ten years. Nobody needs to know that every time he’s inside a woman he remembers why it never progresses past that.

It’s fine. It’s always fine. It’s just, if he’s completely honest with himself, 'fine’ isn’t what he wants to settle for.

“Moot point anyway,” Dan mumbles to himself, clicking over to Phil’s channel for a distraction. “Not like you’re gonna do anything about it, you big fucking coward.”

Phil has uploaded the video he told Dan about when Dan was busy trying not to stare at his mouth. It’s such a welcome distraction that Dan almost doesn’t clock the title and thumbnail for the buffoonery they are.

IS MY DOG PSYCHIC?

The title doesn’t change when Dan blinks. Neither does the image of Thor, edited to be wearing round glasses in front of a crystal ball.

“What,” Dan says, clicking on the video before any of it really sinks in.

“Hi guys,” says Phil. He already looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “I know you read the title and you’re like, what, but I promise it is not clickbait! As I’m sure many of you know, my grandma had 'the gift’, and sometimes I think she passed it on to me. The question is, did I pass it on to my son?”

Phil pulls an over-exaggerated thoughtful expression and then breaks, giggling and shaking his head at himself.

“I know it’s stupid, but, I also figured it might be funny? I dunno, you tell me.”

It’s exactly as silly as Dan expects it to be. Phil sits on his floor with Thor while the dog 'reads’ his tarot cards. Dan can see why this video gave Phil a hard time in editing. There are a lot of close ups of Thor and the cards, filmed more like a comedy skit than a vlog.

He finds himself laughing along and getting way too invested in what the tarot cards mean, and he knows first hand how much work Phil put into this, so Dan clicks the share button before he can overthink it.

tbh watching amazingthorgi do anything could make a believer out of me, he tweets alongside the link.

Most of America is asleep still, but that doesn’t stop hundreds of people replying. Dan’s really got nothing better to do while he waits for his mum to call, so he settles in to respond to some of them. He makes a couple bad jokes, commiserates with some of them over not being able to have a dog yet, and ignores any mention of Phil.

Maybe that’s childish of him. He is sharing Phil’s work, after all. He sighs and replies to an innocuous question about how he knows Phil. met during this and then he let me meet his dog so now he’s not getting rid of me, Dan says with a link to the BBC Radio One interview.

His phone chirps with a Twitter notification and he taps it warily, still scrolling through replies on his laptop.

@AmazingPhil @danielhowell You saw his face now you’re a believer? He’ll tell your fortune anytime! It’s accompanied with dog and sparkle and crystal ball and, inexplicably, sock emojis.

Dan laughs, the sound of it almost surprising him. It’s impossible not to feel some kind of way when Phil is the way he is, so cheerful and dorky and fun.

He likes the tweet, but responds by messaging Phil - do you have me on notif or are you just always online - because he doesn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire that is Twitter stans. He can already imagine the argument threads about his sexuality that he usually tries so hard to avoid.

The thought of strangers picking apart something he’s not even comfortable with himself is abhorrent, makes him itch, and he puts on some older AmazingPhil videos to calm himself back down.

That depends

on?

Which one is lamer lmao

Phil’s voice filling the lonely hotel room and his words taking up space on Dan’s screen where something anxiety-inducing might have otherwise been is almost enough to make Dan as comfortable as Phil’s physical presence does.

Almost. It’s unreal how much Dan wants to reach through both of his screens to pull Phil closer.

Dan hides his smile in his hand, even though nobody is around to see it, and replies, tbh those are equally lame so you might as well go with the truth

I was on Twitter anyway. I really shouldn’t be, I’m supposed to be responding to emails. Phil keeps typing, then stops, then repeats that process a few times before he finally adds, I should go do that, but you can call or facetime me if you want to keep talking or whatever? It’s easier not to type/text while I’m doing emails lol

And, in a third message, a string of numbers. Phil’s phone number.

Well, that sounds better than using Phil’s videos as background noise. Dan shuts his laptop and gets out of bed to fuss with his hair.

“You’re such an idiot,” he tells his judgemental reflection. It, thankfully, does not respond.

Once he’s gotten his hair into some semblance of order - it’s mostly still straight from yesterday, but it got all sleep-mussed and a bit wavy in the front overnight - Dan tosses on a shirt and video calls the number Phil gave him.

Phil picks up with a big grin and sleepy eyes, and Dan almost hangs up on him to stop the heart palpitations in their tracks. “Hi!”

“Hey, you just wake up?” Dan asks, getting comfortable in the hotel room armchair. It feels weird to lie back down in bed while they’re chatting. Phil is at his desk, phone propped up so he can use both hands to type. His glasses are a little crooked and his shirt is too big on him, exposing his collarbones whenever he leans forward. Unfortunately, he looks like serious wank material right now.

“Yeah, had my first coffee already, though,” says Phil. “You would not like me before my coffee.”

“Barely like you now, mate,” Dan says to try and hide his blush at the idea of seeing Phil first thing in the morning. Phil just laughs. It’s tinny through Dan’s phone speaker, but it still makes Dan feel warm.

“You’re awfully chatty for someone who doesn’t like me,” says Phil.

“I’m only bored, don’t flatter yourself,” says Dan. “My mum’s supposed to call me in a few hours, so I’m just kind of waiting around til then.”

“Oh, yeah, you haven’t had the chance to go home yet, have you?” Phil’s tongue pokes out between his teeth as he concentrates on whatever he’s reading. “My mum would be going out of her gourd. When was the last time you went home?”

Dan doesn’t really like the way that Phil keeps calling it 'home.’ Wokingham hasn’t been home in a very long time.

He doesn’t want to get into that, though, so he just shrugs. “Uh, Christmas?”

“Dan,” Phil says, looking appalled. “It’s August.”

“I don’t live here,” says Dan. “And I’m busy. My family gets it.”

Phil hums, a little disapproving still. Dan has to bite his tongue so he doesn’t say anything scathing, reminding himself that some people actually like their parents.

It’s not that Dan doesn’t love them, because he does, it’s just. Complicated.

“Do you get to see your family often?” Dan asks, desperate to get the attention off of how shit a son he is.

“Not as often as I’d like,” says Phil. He sounds so genuinely sad about it, like he really would like nothing more than to go visit his parents every weekend. “My brother lives in town, so I see him a lot.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Yeah, he’s -” Phil cuts himself off, then, and gives Dan an apologetic sort of look through his screen. “You don’t want to hear about my family.”

“I do,” Dan says, and he’s surprised by how much he means it. He shifts in the armchair. It isn’t that comfortable. “Dude, I already know every song on your iTunes, what’s so weird about telling me stuff about your family? They clearly mean a lot to you.”

He has no idea how to interpret the expression on Phil’s face, but whatever it is shifts into a smile as he turns back to his computer. “Okay, his name’s Martyn, he’s older than me, we work together -”

This time, Dan cuts him off. “You do? I haven’t seen him on your channel.”

“He’s not really interested in being on camera. We actually run IRL Merch together, although honestly it’s mostly Martyn.”

Phil explains the business to Dan, who feels himself getting more and more awed by the amount of stuff Phil does on any given day. It isn’t just sitting in front of his camera and then in front of his computer for a handful of hours.

Granted, Dan never thought that being a YouTuber was easy, or everyone would do it, but Phil seems to add things onto his plate that he doesn’t really need to do.

Dan listens for a little while, changing positions in the armchair a few times before he gives up and flops back onto the bed.

“Phil,” he says, holding his phone high above his head and making a face at the angle. It’s fine, really, Phil has barely been glancing at him this whole time. Now that Dan has some kind of idea about the number of people Phil works with, he gets the hours of emails thing. “Do you ever take a break? Hang out with your friends?”

“What friends?” Phil jokes, but Dan senses there’s some truth behind it.

“Okay, first of all,” says Dan, “big mood.”

Phil’s laugh seems like it’s surprised out of him, and his eyes flick to his phone again. They linger on Dan for a long moment before turning away again. Although, to be fair, that may be lag from shitty hotel wifi. “Is it?”

“Yeah, man, like I’ve got any fucking friends. Second of all, you need to take some breaks or you’re going to burn the fuck out.”

“Trust me, I know,” says Phil.

“I know Thor already reminds you to take breaks,” says Dan. “But he can’t force you to. I can.”

“You’re gonna force me to take breaks?” Phil hums, his eyebrows raising. “How exactly are you going to manage that when you’re back in Atlanta?”

“I can be very annoying with nothing but an internet connection,” Dan promises. “You wanna see?”

“No, no, I believe you, and I need to get this done, please don’t.”

They both laugh, quiet, and Dan curls up on his side to just watch Phil work for a little while. Phil runs his fingers through his hair every so often and mouths along to whatever he types. Dan has no idea how one person can simultaneously be the hottest and the most adorable thing ever.

“I have a brother too,” Dan offers.

“Do you?” Phil asks, more surprised than Dan expects him to be. “That’s not on your Wikipedia.”

“He doesn’t like the attention,” says Dan. It’s a half-truth. Most of what he says about his family are half-truths. “But you’re not, like, a stan account or the media or whatever.”

“Technically, I am both,” Phil jokes. “I’ll keep it to myself, though, don’t worry.”

Dan isn’t worried. He trusts Phil not to go blabbing about him on the radio, even with something as small as Adrian’s existence.

It feels a little strange to trust someone so immediately, and part of Dan wants to pull back, put some distance between them, because the combination of trust and a deepening crush can only spell disaster. He’s not going to do that. He’s only got Phil nearby for another two weeks.

After they’ve finished their media circus in London, then Edinburgh, then Dublin, Dan is off to France with Patrick and Jaime. They’re only hitting a handful of international media press, but that’s more than they were asked to do last year. It’s exciting to be expanding this way, to have something to point to and say, 'I did that before I was 30’.

And when they’re done with the press tour, Dan… goes home. Back to Atlanta, where his apartment is being sublet during his summer travelling.

They don’t even know yet if Heatwave will get a fourth season. It’s a bit of an industry joke that Netflix shows rarely make it past the third. Dan doesn’t even want to consider how Atlanta will feel without a steady filming job down the street.

Probably not much like home. Nowhere feels all that much like home, if Dan’s honest.

“Hey, you still with me?”

Dan blinks away the doom and gloom of his uncertain future and refocuses on the conversation he’s supposed to be a part of. Phil is looking at him now, the sort of undivided attention that makes Dan’s cheeks burn.

“Yeah, sorry,” says Dan. “I’m still here. Have you made a dent in those emails?”

Not the most graceful change of subject, but Phil allows it with a small snort. “No, for I am Sisyphus, doomed to answer a dozen emails only for another dozen to arrive.”

“Maybe if you didn’t have, like, three jobs, this wouldn’t be a problem,” Dan points out. “I get maybe two important emails a day. It’s great.”

“Maybe,” says Phil. He’s still just looking at Dan, his chin resting on an open palm.

“What?” Dan asks, feeling a smile tug at his lips.

Phil smiles back, brighter. “Nothing.”

There’s a warmth in his face, visible even through the mediocre FaceTime quality, that makes Dan’s stomach twist all up in knots. He doesn’t know how to handle that at all. “My mum’s calling I gotta go bye,” he says in one breath, hanging up before Phil can even react.

While he waits for his heart to stop pounding, Dan stares at the hotel ceiling and wonders what the fuck is wrong with him.

–

Dan’s mum does call, eventually. He’s been fucking around on Guild Wars and cursing the wifi for god only knows how long, refusing to check his phone so he doesn’t have to be faced with another message - or the lack of one - from Phil. Dan finishes the raid and then calls his mum back.

“Daniel, hi,” she says, sounding frazzled in the way she always seems to.

“Hey, mum.” It feels weird, now that he’s got her on the phone, but he pushes past that discomfort. “I was just calling to let you know that I’m in London.”

The sound of a door slamming comes through before his mum says, “Well, yes, dear. I know that.”

She doesn’t sound upset with him. More than anything, she sounds confused. Like she doesn’t know why he’s even telling her this. Like it hasn’t even occurred to her to nag her son for a visit. Dan has to swallow past a lump in his throat, not sure why he wishes she was angry.

“Oh,” he says. Allows a long moment of quiet to pass, just in case she wants to explain herself. She doesn’t. “Well. Okay. Do you - are you busy weekend after next? I could come see you before we leave for the continent.”

“That’s quite short notice, dear,” his mum says, and Dan experiences a dizzying rush of relief and distress before she continues. “But I’m sure I can make some time for dinner.”

Dan exhales. Dinner. He can do dinner.

“That sounds good,” he says. Another half-truth. “I’ll text you?”

“Yes, yes,” his mum says, already sounding distracted. “Text me and we’ll make a proper plan. Work hard til then, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye.”

The call ends almost as abruptly as his call with Phil, but Dan is okay with that.

im going to see my fam before i leave england jsyk, Dan texts to Phil. Phil sends him celebratory emojis in response. And maybe dinner with his family will be horrible, maybe it will be great, most likely it will be slightly uncomfortable, but at least he isn’t disappointing Phil on top of everyone else he’s let down.

#phanfiction #phanfic #phan #dnp fic #can't breathe when you touch my sleeve #words words words

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ilovemygaydad · 6 years ago

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Friends in Dark Places [remastered, ch 12]

pairing: moxiety, eventual logince, background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: sensory overload, panic attacks, self hate, school dances, swearing, food mentions, kissing, embarrassment, rumors, eating, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: jsyk, it’s totally okay to ask for a modified chapter if you need it or if i need to add tags! i get it, and it’s no problem for me to quick edit a chapter or whatever :) also, feel free to send requests or questions that you have!

a/n 2: :)

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 -chapter 7 - chapter 8 - chapter 9 - chapter 10 - chapter 11 - chapter 13

companion fics: exes and ‘oh’s

consider buying me a coffee

“So, Virgil. Are you going to prom?” Roman casually asked before popping a french fry in his mouth.

“Um, I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on it.” Virgil absently dipped a chicken nugget into the pool of ranch on his tray. He really hadn’t thought about prom that much. Plus, the thought of a whole bunch of his peers stuck in one room together, probably grinding with their respective dates, was not a pleasant one.

“Awww, kiddo! You should go! You could come with us; we’re going to grab dinner and everything,” Patton whined.

“I mean, I guess?” Virgil grimaced as he weighed the options. “But don’t I have to rent a tux? I don’t have money for that, especially not after what happened on Monday. I’d be surprised to find my credit card still working with all of that in mind.”

Logan jumped into the conversation. “You would have to rent a tux, yes, but the three of us would be more than happy to help cover your expenses. We value you as a member of our friend group, and we wouldn’t exclude you from something just because you couldn’t afford it.”

Virgil opened his mouth to argue, but Roman interjected, “Dude, seriously. Just let us do this for you. It’ll be fun!”

“Plus, Ro already bought you a ticket,” Logan added and held out a small slip of cardstock. Westview Junior Prom.

Well, Virgil Thomas was now going to prom.

---

“Hey, Pat? Can you help me with my tie?” Virgil called from his bathroom. He had been struggling for the past five minutes trying to figure out the witchcraft behind ties, and he still had zero clue as to what he was supposed to be doing.

“Be right there, kiddo!” It was only a few moments before soft footsteps could be heard approaching, and Patton walked into the bathroom. He’d already mostly finished getting ready sans the fact that his hair was a catastrophic mess. Virgil could guess that he’d been trying to fix it when he’d been called into the other room.

“Alright. Work your magic,” Virgil smirked. In a matter of seconds, Patton had looped and pulled the tie into place, gently tightening it around Virgil’s neck. It was deep purple, picked out specifically because of his dislike of most other colors, and it went very well with the blues and reds of the others’ ties. The tie also matched the freshly dyed purple hair that Roman had forced his three friends to do along with him earlier that afternoon. What an ass.

Virgil admired his reflection. “Dude, what the fuck? How did you do that?” He felt oddly confident in his skin. The same feeling had come about a few times since he’d met Patton, and he had to admit that it was nice. Pat’s happy-go-lucky attitude somehow perfectly meshed with Virgil’s own doom-and-gloom one, forming a hilariously compatible friendship.

Patton smiled and ruffled Virgil hair, much to the other’s dismay. “Now that I helped you, will you please fix my hair.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“I mean it, Virge! Look at this.” Pat ran his fingers through his hair and aggressively tugged when he reached a clump of knots.

“Okay, yeah, we’re fixing that right now.”

---

“Dinner? Really, Patton? You guys couldn’t have told me about this before?” Virgil whined as the four walked into the diner. Yes, a diner, which meant that they were ridiculously overdressed; every other patron was wearing some sort of flannel and jeans combo. It smelled great, sure, but it was so unexpected that he couldn’t help but feel on edge.

“It’s our favorite restaurant,” Logan explained. “We always come here before school events. Roman has coined it as some sort of weird ritual, but it’s mostly tradition.” He led Virgil to the booth that Patton and Roman had already rushed to sit in.

“Plus, we’re friends with the staff,” Ro started with a smile. “You’ll love them; they’re all super nice. Speaking of, here comes Emilia.”

A young lady with brown hair walked up to their table, pulling out her small notepad. “Well, who do we have here? Another addition to our little group of customers of the month for every month since 2014?”

“Hey, Emilia!” Patton said. “This is Virgil; he’s a new friend of ours. He’s been living with me for a few weeks while his dad is out of the country on business.”

“That’s sweet, Patton. Now, what can I get for you guys?”

The three regulars spouted off their orders, clearly versed in what they wanted to eat. Suddenly, all eyes turned to Virgil. He’d barely been able to look over the menu in the time the others had taken to order.

“Uh… I… Um…” He stuttered. Every drop of intelligence that he had in his body was gone in an instant, and he was left a bumbling mess.

“He’ll have a cheeseburger and fries, thanks,” Patton cut in, saving his friend from any further embarrassment.

“Alright! I’ll be back in a few with your food and a pitcher of water!” Emilia gave the boys another smile before she walked back behind the counter to tend to other customers. Almost immediately, Patton and Roman launched themselves into a fast paced discussion about the upcoming festivities. Virgil, unsurprisingly, not only felt anxious, but he also felt like a complete idiot. He was just ordering dinner--there was no reason for him to have been so freaked out.

Virgil felt a hand rest on his left shoulder, turning to see Logan with a worried expression etched on his face. “Are you okay? Do you need to step outside for a moment to regain composure? I’d be willing to go with you if you don’t want to be alone.”

“Uh, no. I’m okay. I’m just a little worried. I mean, this is my first proper school event in, like, ever, and it’s freaking intimidating. You guys go to these things multiple times a year?” Virgil ran his hands through his hair, distressed.

“I understand. When Roman and Patton first made me come with them to homecoming, I was so nervous that I nearly passed out on the way here. Thankfully, I wasn’t driving us everywhere back then otherwise that would’ve ended in a disaster.” Logan gave Virgil a small smile, adding to the tiny--yet slowly growing--list of his outward displays of emotion. Virgil knew Lo wasn’t an emotionless android, but Roman and Patton were so all over the place that someone needed to play the calm and collected one.

“They can be pretty intense,” Virgil commented with a smile at the enthusiastic conversation across the table from them. Both of the teens were grinning and flinging their hands around in wild gestures, barely avoiding impact.

“Yeah, they sure can.” Logan glanced at the other side of the table with a fond expression, but he quickly snapped out of his reverie. “Don’t worry about the dance. Oh, here!” He pulled a pair of earbuds out of his inside jacket pocket and held them out to Virgil. “It gets pretty loud at these dances. I’ve observed that you put on headphones when it gets too noisy, so I brought these just in case you didn’t have your own.”

Virgil pocketed them just as Emilia finally returned with their food. The other three immediately began to dig in while he hesitantly poked at his burger. He picked up a fry and lazily popped it into his mouth.

He picked at his fries for a few minutes, but he eventually worked his way up to taking a bite of his burger. “Holy shit! This stuff is great--wait, why haven’t you taken me here yet?”

“I was trying to ease you into our friend group, so I thought eating dinner at my house would save you some unnecessary interaction,” Pat explained. “Obviously, that was a crime against your taste buds.”

“Of course it was, Patton. Depriving anyone of this blessed food is practically a war crime!” Roman dramatically stated, throwing out his arms. Virgil snorted at the theatrics.

They continued to eat, and all but Virgil had finished their dinner when Emilia returned to their table for dessert orders. Logan ordered a slice of pecan pie for himself, a chocolate lava cake for Roman, a hot fudge sundae for Patton, and a caramel shake for Virgil. Patton, of course, began to spout off a review of all of the desserts they’d ordered, even though Virgil wouldn’t be eating most of them. They all listened politely, not really absorbing any of the information, until their orders arrived. Within a nanosecond, Pat’s face was stuffed full of vanilla ice cream and fudge sauce, easily and efficiently shutting him up.

They ate in near silence, save for the “light” discussion of whether cake or pie was better (Patton eventually had to cut in when Roman threatened Logan with a butterknife). Pat covered the whole bill once they’d finished, claiming “it’s my way of thanking you guys for putting up with my shenanigans.”

---

“Three, two, one!” Roman dramatically counted as he threw the doors to the venue open. Time seemed to freeze as the four friends stepped in; all eyes snapped to them. It had been days since they’d been the topic of gossip at school, but that didn’t mean the student body had lost their interest in the boys.

Roman was at the front of the group, confidently striding to the grand staircase and adjusting his red tie. Logan followed close behind, who looked absolutely stunning in the sharp suit and deep blue tie. Then was Patton, who was marveling at the cascading flower vines and glittering fairy lights. And last but certainly not least…

Virgil. He had a wary smile on his face, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks. The boy made absolutely sure that he didn’t get lost; he kept eyes on Patton the entire time they descended the stairs.

Logan had been right; it was fucking loud. People were screaming left and right, and the music was so loud that Virgil could feel every beat vibrate in his chest. He was lucky that he’d put the earbuds in before they’d arrived, or he never would have stepped inside the venue.

Patton turned around to check on Virgil, obviously sensing the tension building in his friend. He held out his hand for Virgil, who hesitated for just a moment before gently taking it. If people wanted to believe they were together, that wasn’t his problem. It was no skin off his back.

They talked and danced for what felt like hours, and Virgil even joined in on a few of the dances he knew. He was having fun. He smiled and laughed, and it was all genuine! In just a few short weeks, Patton had actually transformed him from a suicidal nightmare into someone who found joy in life. It was a stupid sentiment, and he knew it, but it still brought Virgil a bit of warmth in his chest.

The DJ announced a slow dance. Ugh, how awful. He had nobody to dance with; it was just—

Oh.

Patton tugged Virgil’s hand lightly, pulling their bodies closer together. “Wanna dance? We don’t have to, of course, but it would be a fun first experience for both of us!”

“I—Uh, sure,” Virgil mumbled, trying to hide his gently growing blush. Pat gently guided Virgil’s hands around his neck and placed his own on Virgil’s waist. For the first time, Virgil noticed that he was just an inch or so taller than his friend. Reveling in the warmth and closeness, the two swayed together to the gentle rhythm.

The song ended, and Virgil stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was extremely grateful that the low light hid his pink cheeks. The screaming resumed as couples broke apart, and early 2000s rap boomed out of the speakers.

And then just like that, Virgil was attacked by anxiety. His hands started shaking, and he rushed away from the small group he was in, mumbling something about going to the bathroom. He calmed slightly when he had made it outside, where he simply collapsed to the ground, but then his panic picked up again when he realized how fucking alone he was always going to be.

Nobody would love the weird guy who rushes out on social gatherings for no fucking reason! Why should they? Virgil had nothing to offer; he was just a guy who had snark to rival Roman and barely two cents to his name.

Tears streamed down his face, running in dark gray streaks as they mixed with his black eye makeup. He could feel his chest heaving, but little air actually made it into his body. Everything was working overtime yet nothing actually happened. Virgil stayed sobbing on the ground. Nothing. Changed.

“Virge, honey? Do you need me to call my mom and have her pick us up?” Patton slowly lowered himself next to Virgil, talking softly so that he woudn’t stir up anything worse.

“N-No! I’ll… I’ll… Fuck!” Virgil cried as he ripped the earbuds out of his ears. He threw the cord a few feet away, instantly regretting it as the sound of shattering plastic reached his ears. He’d have to buy Logan new ones. He couldn’t afford to replace them.

“Goodness gracious, Virgil. It’s okay. I’m going to call Logan, and we’re going to get you out of here—“

“I-I-I don’t… want t-t-to… ruin… night…” Virgil sputtered. He was having trouble pushing the words out; all of them got stuck in his throat.

Patton carefully began to comb through Virgil’s hair with his fingers in an attempt to soothe the attack. “Don’t worry about that, kiddo. There isn’t much more fun to be had, anyway. We still love you—I still love you.”

That’s it. That’s what he felt. Love. He loved Patton.

All of the impulse control he had—though, truthfully, there was very little to begin with—left his body. He reached out and brought Pat’s face to his own, lightly kissing him. Patton stiffened for a fraction of a second before relaxing into the kiss. They were both going to regret this later, but what did that matter in the moment?

chapter 13

#sanders sides fic #moxiety #logince #m writes things #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders

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ythmir-writes · 6 years ago

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A Thousand Mended Seams

fandom: Ikemen Sengoku character: Ieyasu Tokugawa

brief summary: Ieyasu wakes up after another episode and he is none too happy of having two Mitsus worry about him

A Thousand Mended Seams masterlist: prologue // chap 01

other works // ao3 // ko-fi

no warnings

Chapter 02/?? – Rousing (edited chap title)

Ieyasu grimaced, squinting his eyes from the light that was suddenly too bright for his eyes. He could feel the tingling sensation in his arms and legs; a sign that he had just gone through another episode.

Inconvenient, really. But at least he could still feel all of his body. He could also somehow still focus on that memory of Nobunaga pressing something important in his hands. Something that weighed like the knife he was still gripping very tightly. The soba knife. He should drop it – why was he even holding it?

But his hand was still refusing to obey him at the moment.

As if to distract himself from that, Ieyasu waited for the ringing in his ears to stop, waiting for Nobunaga’s voice to dwindle into whispers –

You’re the only one who remembers.

Damn right, that. They’re all timeshifters but lucky Ieyasu got picked by fate to be the only one who remembers. But it took time, he reasoned to the imaginary Nobunaga. Both of them knew that.

Ieyasu could not remember all his past lives all at once. During his episodes, he remembered fragments: sometimes coherently, sometimes in dissonant segments and impressions. Almost always, they were jumbled up pieces of a jigsaw puzzle he had to figure out. If his episodes forced him to remember entire lives, he knew with absolute certainty that he would grow mad.

However, this memory felt both coherent and incoherent at the same time, which somehow made it more – distinct, was the word he often used. Ieyasu had only handfuls of memory like this. And those he kept dear to his heart. Did it mean this particular memory was important?

But when did it happen? And how was this important?

As he tried to puzzle it out, Ieyasu slowly realized that someone was very gently shaking him into consciousness.

“He’s come back!” one voice said.

“He needs to drink this quickly.” another shouted.

Ieyasu blinked several times. That was not Mitsuhide’s voice. It was the other Mitsu. And their faces were already uncomfortably close.

“Hn. Move.” Ieyasu croaked but his arm, apart from refusing to budge, had no strength to bat everyone’s meddling away.

“Lord Ieyasu, I must advice against drastic reactions at the moment, please.” Mitsunari held him upright, brought something cold to his lips. “The knife is important I understand but you need to drink.”

Ieyasu suddenly felt that his throat was indeed very dry. Had they been embarrassingly opening and closing the entire time? “How long…?”

“Lord Ieyasu, please. Drink.”

Nothing to be done against it then. Ieyasu opened his mouth and the glass was tipped towards him. Cold water and the spike of lemon and something bitter ran down his throat. He managed several gulps until he almost drowned and Mitsunari eased the glass away.

“What…hell?”

“Lemon and ground ginseng root. Although the ginseng is only just three years old so you might feel a little feverish after.” With their distance, Ieyasu could see the sheen of concentration in Mitsunari’s eyes. “How are you feeling?

Terrible. Nauseous. Disoriented. Like he had been hung up-side down from a rope tied around one leg and swinging wildly above a twenty-foot building for giggles.

But Mitsunari did not need to know all of that. “No honey?” Ieyasu complained, his sentences still reduced to two words.

“He’s okay.” Mitsuhide declared from somewhere.

“I couldn’t find it in time.” Mitsunari answered, sheepish.

Ieyasu tried to clear his head, waited several seconds, and then gestured to his left. “Pantry. Second cupboard to the door. Obviously.”

“Yes, of course.” Mitsunari smiled, a small one that perked one corner of his lips that meant he was not sure what to say. It was also the same smile he often had that told Ieyasu that Mitsunari knew he was purposely making it difficult. Then, Mitsunari brightened and said, “Ah, you were out for five minutes.”

Just five minutes? Ieyasu felt like it had been longer. Then again, he always thought his episodes lasted hours when in fact it was just a snap of fingers. Five minutes was pretty good time. He had had longer and worse episodes, some lasting days. At least, despite the pain, this episode was short.

Ieyasu closed his eyes in relief.

“Lord Ieyasu!” Panicked, Mitsunari began to shake him again.

“I’m fine.” Ieyasu opened his eyes. Mitsunari visibly relaxed, easing away from him. “I’m fine.” He repeated. Then he looked around and the restaurant was empty. “The students..?”

“I’ve escorted them outside.” Mitsuhide said, moving to stand behind Mitsunari now. “They’re not ready for that kind of show.”

Ieyasu frowned. “What show?”

Mitsuhide narrowed his eyes at him, all previous amusement gone. “You don’t remember?”

Ieyasu’s frown deepened. Mitsunari cast his eyes to the floor.

Ieyasu was not sure if he was going to like the rest of Mitsuhide’s sentence. He was also unsure if Mitsuhide was joking. He had not been always able to tell which was what.

It turned out to be the latter, as Mitsuhide broke into a snicker. “Oh, Ieyasu. The look on your face was priceless.”

“You owe me so much for tonight.” Ieyasu groaned, wanting to bury his face in his hands then realizing he was still holding the soba knife. Ieyasu carefully placed it on the floor, not really sure what to do with it.

You know what to do. You’re the only one who remembers.

“That was enough excitement for me, I think.” Mitsuhide then said. “Thank you for the entertaining evening.”

“Like I said, you owe me. Big time.”

“Have you seen yourself cook, Ieyasu?” Mitsuhide queried. “And I am serious in asking. Mitsunari’s filmed you more than once hasn’t he?”

Ieyasu made a face. Mitsunari was looking at him expectantly and for a moment, it was as if Ieyasu was caught between a rock and a hard place. He was not sure which Mitsu was less dangerous to tangle with at the moment.

“Have you seen them, Lord Ieyasu? Do you have a favorite?” Mitsunari did his best to contain his excitement.

Mitsunari had recently taken to capturing videos of their group as a serious hobby. Ieyasu was not sure when it began but he had actually seen those videos of him cooking, all of them allegedly capturing his acquired expertise.

There was no pizzazz and to be quite frank it was all plain and just very embarrassing.

“No.” He said.

Mitsunari deflated and Ieyasu felt another pang of guilt in his gut.

“Well, maybe you should take a look.” Mitsuhide pressed on. “Then you’ll understand why you’re such a topic in the Academy.”

“I’m sure it’s more because I’m a unique timeshifter than my actual cooking.”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “You’d be surprised at what your best angles can do.”

“I’m not sure I would be but soon.” He muttered, addressing Mitsunari. “I’ll watch them soon.”

It was hard to ignore how Mitsunari stood immediately three inches taller already. “Ah! Just tell me when you want to see them, Lord Ieyasu! I’ve been trying my best to organize the video section you see and I’ve finally come to arrange it from the nineteen hundreds and so on and so forth.”

Ieyasu was not sure he wanted to know exactly what so on and so forth meant. Neither did he want to know how their library was actually organized anymore. Ever since he had passed on the mantle to Mitsunari by Nobunaga’s orders, he had tried his best to leave the former to his own devices. Mitsunari had his own very unique organizing system. Ieyasu admitted he was just too much of a coward to ask.

Ieyasu tried to stand up, and succeeded with very minimal help from Mitsunari.

“Ah, that’s right.” Mitsuhide suddenly said, making a deliberate show of touching his forehead before pulling out an ivory envelope from his inner coat pocket. “Before I forget.”

Ieyasu’s heart thudded against his chest. Mitsunari gasped beside him. Both of them recognized the seal: a golden swan with a crown on its head, its wings raised as if it was about to take flight.

“From our counterparts in Wysteria.” Mitsuhide was all business and seriousness. “Lord Nobunaga needs this immediately.”

“Did they tell you what it is about?” Mitsunari whispered.

“No.” Mitsuhide said, shaking his head. “It was delivered by the white owl.”

Another gasp from Mitsunari.

The white owl. Not a white owl. There was only one significant white owl in the entire kingdom of Wysteria.

Ieyasu gave Mitsuhide a sharp look. The unexpected visit despite the lateness of the hour and the distance from the restaurant to the Academy, with the insistence of him having to cook instead of Masamune. Casual conversations. Teasing when there was not much of an audience to benefit him.

As the cogs in his brain put the pieces together, the barest hints of Mitsuhide’s real smile, razor sharp and dangerous, came into view.

“You bastard.” Ieyasu muttered.

Mitsuhide waved his hand. “I’ve been called worse.”

“This will reach him.” Ieyasu said, taking the letter and tucking it into his pocket.

“See that it does at the soonest.” Mitsuhide nodded to both of them. “I’ll see you when I see you, then.”

“Take care, Lord Mitsuhide.” Mitsunari said.

“Watch out for the dark.” Ieyasu added.

“No. The dark should watch out for me.” Mitsuhide finished, angling his head in a gesture of goodbye. He exited the restaurant. Ieyasu saw the students quickly crowd him to ask if everything was okay before the door closed shut.

Ieyasu felt bad that the students had to be used as a pretense for Mitsuhide to be able to visit the restaurant on such short notice but then again, he supposed it was evened out by the fact that they had witnessed him during a state he’d rather keep private.

“Do you want more of that drink, Lord Ieyasu?” Mitsunari gestured towards a pitcher. “I prepared more just in case.”

Ieyasu took a moment to think if he should get the honey. Decided against it. He reached for the pitcher, poured himself another glass, and drank deeply. It was doing him a lot of good.

“I’m sorry you had to go down here, Mitsunari.” Ieyasu said. “I know you’re busy.”

“I don’t mind at all. I’m just happy we reached you in time, Lord Ieyasu.” Mitsunari answered, turning to him, sighing in relief. “Lord Mitsuhide called me up immediately when he couldn’t handle it on his own.”

Ieyasu rubbed a hand on his nape. “It was that bad, huh?”

“Not really, no. Only, Lord Mitsuhide’s powers are not within the realm of resuscitation or healing. It must have been difficult for him to see you like that.”

Ieyasu wondered about that. “What else happened?”

“Apart from you being mostly unresponsive, you were holding on to that knife very tightly.”

Ieyasu opened his palm, closed it, tried not to flinch at the memory of the blade at his chest. “I remember Nobunaga pushing a blade towards me. I must have been reacting to that.”

“Shall we go up to the library and record your memory?” Mitsunari asked after a moment. “It’s best to do it when it’s still fresh.”

“All right. Let me just clean up.”

“I can help – ?”

“By nibbling these.” Ieyasu quickly pushed a plate of deep fried anchovies into Mitsunari’s hands. “Stay in the corner.”

Mitsunari looked doubtful but accepted the dish regardless. “Lord Ieyasu, I think it would be better –?”

“It will take us longer.” Ieyasu insisted. “Now go and be a good boy and eat your calcium and omega-3.”

Before Mitsunari could put in another protest that Ieyasu would deflect, Ieyasu’s phone suddenly rang. He gestured towards Mitsunari to stay put then went to the telephone rack, scooped his phone up from his basket, and swiped to answer it.

Masamune’s voice boomed from the other end. “Ieyasu? You doing good? You treating my kitchen right?”

Ieyasu made a face. He had lost count of how many times Masamune had asked that and he had a vague feeling he won’t be hearing the end of it any time soon.

“You’re on speaker.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Place just emptied. I only barely stopped a fire. That witch that cursed you sent faeries to ransack the place and I could do nothing to stop them.” Ieyasu set down his phone while Mitsunari inched closer to participate.

“Must you remind me of that every time?” Masamune answered in a tone that sounded more amused than hurt.

“You were the one who antagonized her when I very much insisted you shouldn’t.” Ieyasu answered. “And now here we are. With you unable to enter any kitchen within fifty meters without something disastrous happening.”

“I told you I’m working on trying to get back into her good graces.”

Ieyasu felt a mixture of horror and trepidation. “Please, don’t make it worse. It’s hard enough having to clean up after your own mess.”

“She loves me. You know that. I know that.”

Ieyasu rolled his eyes and wished Masamune could see it. “Sure. Which is why she insisted on cursing you to be unable to go near something you love more than her.”

“That she did.” Masamune chuckled. “You had a hard time with the customers again tonight, didn’t you? I told you, more smiling less pointing sharp objects.”

“Mitsuhide dropped by. Mitsunari’s here too.”

“Hello, Lord Masamune.” Mitsunari said.

“Ah. One of Mitsuhide’s field trips?”

“I’m not sure anymore.” Ieyasu said. “It’s only a little after midnight. Why are you calling?”

“Right.” Masamune sounded as if he had just remembered why he had called in the first place. “It’s pretty last minute but I need you to come here.”

“Oh.” Mitsunari said softly.

“Here is where?” Ieyasu asked, curious.

“Remember that semi-huge parking lot we drove by the other day and I pointed out that there was a three in five chances I could outrace Hideyoshi riding a pushcart?”

“You could have said the Vista grocery center parking lot by Damayan Avenue? Would have been easier.”

Masamune ignored him, perhaps too preoccupied chuckling at the memory of how Hideyoshi had lost the bet. Ieyasu could make out the distant sound of an ambulance and maybe two police cars in the background.

Ieyasu and Mitsunari shared a glance.

Then, they heard Masamune suck in air, and someone telling him he needed to cut it out. Hideyoshi most likely. The pair had nightwatch patrol duties together on Tuesdays and Fridays.

“Something’s come up and the district’s Kapitan is asking if the nightwatch could stay until things go back to normal. By nightwatch, it means just me and Hideyoshi here. And by going back to normal, it means you gotta come over and fix things.”

Ieyasu frowned. Now that was even more curious.

The nightwatch and the Kapitans were separate entities, and the Kapitans – or the local protectors of the City – never interested themselves in the particulars of an internationally conducted patrol.

“What happened, Lord Masamune?” Mitsunari asked. “Are you two hurt?”

“Don’t worry about us.” Masamune answered. “Just some drunken shenanigans we had to disperse. But that part’s already over. That’s not what we need Ieyasu for. You’re gonna have to bring your supplies.”

Ieyasu frowned. “Why? We’ve got nothing scheduled for a Warding and it’s two weeks advance notice for a reason, remember? That reason being it’s not so easy picking up ingredients in the middle of the night.”

“Not an original Warding, nah. Just your usual bag.”

“Because?”

“You didn’t sense it?” Masamune’s words were casual, almost teasing, but Ieyasu caught a hint of uneasiness barely concealed.

“Sense what?”

“Seriously? You didn’t? Your ward got smudged.”

Ieyasu opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried to search for an appropriate response, something annoyed for his long night getting even longer, something angry, to hide the concern that he did not even sense anything had gone wrong.

Ieyasu settled for the more usual, “I see.”

“But Lord Ieyasu…” Mitsunari cautioned.

Ieyasu immediataly knew what Mitsunari was going to say. He bared his teeth at Mitsunari in warning. “Don’t.”

Mitsunari either did not hear the tone, or simply refused to acknowledge it. “I don’t think you should –”

“I can do a Warding just fine.” Ieyasu snapped, waving a hand.

“Did something really happen?” Masamune’s voice turned serious now.

Ieyasu dared Mitsunari to speak again with a glare. Mitsunari held his gaze, frowning and looking distraught. When neither Ieyasu nor Mitsunari answered, Masamune redirected the question. “What happened, Ieyasu?”

Ieyasu ground his teeth first before letting out a sigh. “I had an episode.” He half-whispered and quickly added, “It barely lasted five minutes. It’s no big deal.”

“Mitsunari, is that true?” Masamune asked.

Ieyasu made an impatient sound. “Look, I know my own body and its limits thank you very much.”

“’Course you do. But when it comes to pushing yourself too far and too hard, you’re pretty notorious.” Masamune said. “I just want to hear Mitsunari say you’re fit to go.”

Ieyasu turned away from the phone with a growl, raising his hands, swearing. “I don’t need anyone’s permission to do my own job.”

Mitsunari inched closer to speak properly. “He’s fine, Lord Masamune.” And then proceeded to tell Masamune what had happened while Ieyasu was otherwise indisposed.

Ieyasu grabbed the next empty dish box and began to gather the empty dishes left by Mitsuhide and his group, almost slamming the saucers and chopsticks down in his frustration.

It was not like this was the first time he fainted while working at their restaurant. Ieyasu could not understand why both Masamune and Mitsunari had to still fuss over him like that after all these years. Why couldn’t they act more like Mitsuhide and Nobuanga? More trusting him and knowing that he could handle himself just fine?

There had been worse episodes than this. Losing consciousness while driving. Fainting during boarding planes. Feeling the slow loss of all bodily function as he was doing self-checkout that one time he had craved snacks. There was no way to effectively predict when they will happen; he could only brace himself and ride the episodes out.

Him having episodes – it was his normal. They happened. They coped and maneuvered life around it. Period. There was no escaping it.

So why should this night be any different?

Ieyasu could not understand why he had to be treated as if the very brief episode affected him enough for him to not be able to do his other work.

He had practically given up much of his freedom just so they would not worry so much. For the past few centuries, he had acquiesced to their arrangement that he would never go outside unaccompanied so none of them would have to worry about him suddenly and unexpectedly dying from an episode.

“And he was holding a knife?” Masamune asked.

“Yes.”

Ieyasu dropped the dishbox unto the sink and opened the faucet to its fullest strength. Water blasted down, drowning his thoughts in with the empty dishes.

It was not that Ieyasu was ungrateful. Quite the opposite. He owed them all his life. Nobunaga, Mitsuhide, Hideyoshi, and Masamune (and he would never admit it, but also and almost always) Mitsunari had all been his lifesavers for as far as he could remember. And he would risk dying and coming back over and over to save them all. He could take that risk. He was the one who remembered.

But Ieyasu also knew this: his friends can only do so much for someone like him. He will never run out of memories to recall. And if he should die during an episode, that’s one more lifetime to remember in his next reincarnation.

And gods only knew how many long, arduous minutes of his life will be spent recalling it. They should not be having to fuss about him overprotectively each and every time. There will be no end to it.

“Ieyasu, you still there?” Masamune called out to him.

Ieyasu grunted.

“Don’t be like that.” Masamune chided him.

Ieyasu knew he shouldn’t but he could not help it. His episodes had always been a touchy subject, bringing up frustration that had been pent up ever since he had discovered he was no simple timeshifter – that his ability was not simple reincarnation but a physical remembering.

In their recorded history, only three persons have been found to be nearly exactly like him. Ieyasu was that third. A powerful sorcerer whose true name was lost to time was the first. And the second –

History was still waiting for the second one to return.

“Bring your usual bag, okay? And take your time. Mitsunari’ll join you. We need him too.”

Need him or just to keep an eye on me because I could faint?

Ieyasu breathed deeply and exhaled with deliberate slowness. “I’ll be there in thirty. I need a change of clothes.”

“Both of you’ll be here in thirty. Don’t forget to put up the sign.” Masamune said before ending the call.

“I’m sorry, Lord Ieyasu.” Mitsunari said softly, back in the kitchen. “I don’t think it’s safe for you to be alone right now.”

Ieyasu did not respond.

“Your episodes as of late tend to have… aftershocks, for lack of a better term. It started three years ago, when you had your first episode here in the City with Lord Masamune with you.”

Ieyasu remembered that. How could he possibly forget?

“So until we have a break in that pattern, I believe it would be unwise to leave you alone until you’ve stabilized. Three weeks at most, according to our data.”

“Sure.” Even to Ieyasu’s ears, his tone was aggressive, retaliatory.

Hurt.

“We don’t want to see you hurt.”

Ieyasu wanted to tell him he understood, wanted to tell him that yes, they were doing this for him, they were worried and they did not want a repeat of any of the events when they’ve been too careless, too complacent – too ignorant of the consequences of his condition. He wanted to tell Mitsunari specifically, that he would never have thought to record his memories, to map them out and arrange them the way he did.

But Ieyasu was too angry, too wrapped up in his own feelings of helplessness from his recent episode – and he did not trust himself to speak when his emotions were all over the place.

So Ieyasu stared at the sink until Mitsunari excused himself to get his own bag from the second floor.

It was only when Ieyasu heard the bell again did he close his eyes, sought out inside his mind to feel the Ward he had set up at that specific parking lot and felt –

Nothing. Emptiness. Not even a hint that something was blocking his senses and preventing him to probe the fringes of his ward. It was as if his Ward simply did not exist.

That did not seem right. He searched for the rest of his wards. He could only feel them faintly without his brushes but at least he could feel them there, like small fluttering heartbeats against his own.

Ieyasu turned off the faucet, and took comfort that at least his herculean restaurant duty was done for the night.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen ieyasu #so here is chap 2 y'all #thanks for the interest on this piece #because urban magic is just hnnnnnn you know #ythmir fanfics #ythmir writes

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