#I am overflowing with emotions and I have nowhere else to express them

[steveybucky]

The fact that Steve has that look of complete shock and says “Bucky?” in a tone of utter disbelief because he thought the person he loved most in the world was dead and gone and was never coming back so much so that he drove a plane into the ocean only for Bucky to look at him void of any recognition or emotion and steve then says in the most heartbreaking voice “he looked right at me and didn’t even know me” in a tone only comparable to after he watched bucky fall to his death is something that has haunted me for 10 long and hard years

[tropicalchiaa]

Him Pt.2

Maurizio Gucci x reader

Next day’s consequences

Umm, thank you for all the love on the last post. I truly appreciate it so much! Like if I could, I would kiss all of y'all. 

I hope you enjoy this next part, it is kinda long but I think it is necessary for the plot ahahaa.

Enjoy and please leave feedback! I will love to hear it❤️

Pt 1:  https://tropicalchiaa.tumblr.com/post/645454455448469504/him-maurizio-gucci-x-reader-your-little-getaway-is

You were awoken by a banging on your door and in your head. Shooting straight up you instantly regret that action. Why the hell did you feel this way? Then you remember back to the events after you had gotten into the elevator.

Finding some solace in the fact that you were away from Maurizio, you then begin to panic if he was on the same floor as you. Knowing that his wife was probably ripping him a new one you walk to your door with a little more confidence, still cautiously looking around as if he was going to jump out of thin air. 

Once in the safety of your room you truly relax your shoulders and recount the events that ensued prior. “ I didn't just kiss anyone, I kissed Maurizio Gucci, the man known for scorching the earth after he passes through.” You whispered to yourself. 

Trying to calm yourself with breathing exercise your heart rate shoots up as you hear a knock on your door. “NO, go away!” You scream at the door. A soft gentle voice from the other side of the door comes back “Ummm, Miss “L/N” it is room service with your bottle of wine.” “Oh, shoot! I’m so sorry!” You say as you scramble towards the door cursing at yourself.

         As you open the door, you give an apologetic look as you say “I’m so sorry about that, I thought you were someone else.” Shifting awkwardly to the side as he brings in your wine. You then reach for a hefty tip in hopes to dissipate the awkwardness. With one final apology, you close the door sliding down it with the utmost embarrassment.

Here you are acting like a pubescent teen who is avoiding a boy who likes her, “Get a grip “Y/N”! ” Walking toward the wine cart you opt to drink from the bottle to dull the thoughts. 

This brings you back to the present hour of you sitting in your dress from dinner with your smeared makeup on your face wishing you could melt into your bed. Your close friend then says “ “Y/N”, what is going on? You were supposed to meet us downstairs 10 minutes ago. We all know how you are a stickler for promptness! Miss “Colored People Time is Just An Excuse to Be Late” ” Slight amusement in her voice as she playfully chastises you. 

You then groan, reluctantly removing yourself from your safe haven. Barely stumbling to the door you shock her with your appearance. “WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO YOU!” She screams while you cower at the volume of her voice. Pulling her in with the little strength you had, covering her mouth to prompt her to shut up. “Please, I am dying” you can barely whisper. 

         In a quiet voice, she said,  “Honey, what has happened to you? You look like you have been wrecked.” A big grin appearing on her face, “Wait, did you get wrecked last night?” playfully wiggling her eyebrows. “No” you hoarsely let out trying to find water and aspirin like it was your lifeline. “Then what is it? I haven’t seen you like this since New Years' after you broke up with that bastard Marcus.” “IkissedMaurizio” You spit out rushed, trying to remove your dress. 

         “WHAT!” she says, spinning you around with so much force you swore the earth was shaking. “ Well I didn’t really kiss him, he kissed me…” Walking to the bathroom to try and meet your team for the tail end of breakfast. Storming in after you she says, “ Although a huge bomb, it doesn’t explain why you look like you survived a zombie apocalypse.” Prying for more detail, you relinquish the details of your night since you had left them at the table. 

 Letting out a strangled sigh, you proceeded to get out of the shower feeling slightly better. You look up to your friend sitting on the toilet processing the information and her emotions. You look at her sheepishly readying yourself for whatever will be coming out of her mouth. “How are you feeling truly?”  she asks, expressing true concern. You smile, this is why she is one of your closest friends, “Honestly, I have contemplated so many times leaving this trip early but we need this! And I'll be damned if I let a white man ruin my joy.” to which you both laughed.

         You go about getting ready for the day, discussing game plans to avoid Maurizio and the clan. You finally make it to breakfast in time to grab a few items to placate your hangover. With casual inquisition, you find out that Maurizio has already hit the slopes for the day allowing you to relax.

         Boy were you so glad that you didn't leave this trip early, this is one of the most relaxing and fun times you have had since the start of the business. You are having such a good time on the slopes that you actually forget about the wretched man. 

That was until after lunch you decided you needed some spa time to truly unwind. Booking a private room for a soak and massage, you leave your team to enjoy whatever else they want to do. 

Walking with confidence you make it to the spa area unscathed and ready to feel the tension leave your body. Stripping and putting your clothes in the lockers you head over to the spa pool to unwind. Despite just getting this sew-in you needed some relief. Sinking in naked as the day you were born you close your eyes and let out an audible moan.

“Wow, I would love to hear that every day.” You snap your eyes open hoping it wasn’t who you thought it was. “ Hi Princess, did you miss me?” A naked smiling Maurizio says as he is getting in right next to you. You try to scramble to hide yourself but to no avail, there was nothing you could do but stay stuck in shock. “You don’t look like you are very happy to see me, especially after that special kiss we shared last night.” He says with a playful frown. You turn to try and get out but are stopped by a strong grip pulling you into their unclothed lap.

“Maurizio, like I told you last night that this will never happen.” Still struggling to release yourself. “ Oh princess, you know you want me as badly as I want you. Just give in and enjoy this while we can.” Kissing you as he moved your legs to straddle him. As bad as you know this is, you revel in the feeling of his hardness pressing against your cunt. 

“Maurizio” you breathy moan out. “ What if someone walks in or worse your wife?” you question melting at his touch. “She is shopping in town and I paid the workers for some privacy,” he said as he nips at your sweet spot on your neck and slowly grinds his hips. Clouded by lust you begin to enjoy yourself, ignoring all caution. 

         “Princess, let me taste you,” he says as he lifts your body out of the water. Suddenly feeling exposed you try to cover yourself in an attempt to reserve some self-respect and modesty. Seeing this Maurizio laughs pulling your hands down, “Don’t cover yourself princess, you are truly a work of art.” Slowly trailing down your body spending extra time in the valley of your breast and hips. For such a self-absorbed asshole he truly was a giver.

         While the anticipation was killing you, you were nowhere near ready for the feeling of his plump lips against your cunt. Making you writhe with pleasure until you came solely on his mouth alone. You could help but let out exhaustively “ Damn white boy, you really know what you are doing.” You then squealed as you were pulled closer. Maurizio chuckled as he pumped his cock getting ready to dip into your honey pot. 

Then getting close he whispers in your ear “ I hope your cunt feels as good as it tastes.” And without warning he rams into, forcing you to take all of him and effectively knocking the breath out of you. You moan his name so loudly, you are sure the people on the slopes can hear you. He continues pumping his length in you occasionally taking it out to smack your clit and ram it back into you. 

As you are both about to reach your highs he gets more animalistic with his rhythm, making water splash all around you. When you feel the build-up about to overflow he begs for you to hold out just a little longer. Finally, at the count of three you both reach your euphoric highs, feeling as if you are melting into each other.

Breathing heavily, you appreciated the clean-up the pool was doing to the evidence of your sins. You refused to look at him, as your after climax shame rolled in but he grabbed your chin slowly turning you to face him. “Princess, I hope you do not think you will be getting rid of me after that.” Smiling as he kisses you tenderly. 

“We can’t...” you say in a small whisper on the verge of tears, “ I deserve much more than to be a secret slut to a white man for fuck sakes. Please, let this be the first and last time.” Pleading with him. He shook his head, “I want you, I want you more than a side fling. I do not care about anything other than making you mine and from here on out that will be my mission. Whether you are on board or not because face it, you want me just as bad.” Concluding his confession with a passionate kiss. 

Feeling defeated you lay your head on his chest, a small part hoping that he was being truthful. He wraps his arms around you, lining his cock with your entrance. You proceed to have a slow and sensual round where he praises your existence and whispers how lucky he is to be in this position. Together you passionately reach your highs.

Realizing how much time has passed by the pruning of your fingers, you decided to head to the lockers. It would be heartwarming the way he held you close if he wasn’t married with kids and the enemy. Putting back on your clothes, it seemed you guys couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Finally fully dressed you guys shared one make-out session before watching him walk out the doors but not without mouthing “See you later princess.” sent with a kiss. 

You did miss your massage but as you walked back to your room to rest before dinner you had a glow to you. Enjoying your state of bliss you ignoring that you had slept with a married man and fell into a nap thinking about the wickedly handsome Maurizio Gucci.

Yes, we caved but there is still hope for redemption 😂

Pt 3

Pt 4

Pt 5

Hope you enjoyed and please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list!

Tag list:

@maybe-your-left​

[doyelikehaggis]

Twelve Days of Rarepairs: Scydia/McMartin | Scott McCall x Lydia Martin (Teen Wolf)

Requested by @wonderdoves & anonymous

"This place is…"

Scott can't even think of a word. He just gazes ahead of them in wonder and awe. For miles, all he can see is snow. A thick white blanket of it covering the entire path ahead, the roads, the cobblestoned buildings, the trees—god, even the trees feel like something out of a fairytale, with long, twisting branches that have a dusting of snow themselves. And it's still going, trying to make them part of the scenery, too.

"You'd think you'd never seen snow before," Lydia teases. 

"I haven't—not like this! California's snow is nothing compared to this." 

Lydia just smiles, a certain fondness in her eyes. She squints up at the sky, her nose wrinkling slightly, their suitcases dragging along through the snow behind them as they continue their way from the ferry port. Something else that Scott is admittedly still in amazement over; he'd never actually been on a ferry before. 

It's just a good thing that the snow stopped long enough for them to actually reach Ireland, or else they'd have still been holed up in their cabin, stuck somewhere in the middle of the sea. Not the worst scenario he can think of, to be fair. But he's glad, nonetheless, because this is so much better. 

"I don't know," Lydia says. "I think I prefer the warm winters. I'm just hoping that Gran and Nana make their hot chocolate like they used to when I was younger, I'm telling you, it's the best thing ever."

Scott smiles, finally looking at Lydia as they come to a stop outside a two-storey, cobbled house with a gate around the garden. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, her nose a pale pink. Snowflakes have clung to her green hat, along the shoulders of her matching green coat, and to her eyelashes. There's a gleam of pure excitement and joy beneath them as she stares at the house. 

When she takes a deep breath, it returns like a puff of smoke. Scott gently squeezes her hand and holds it up in his own, bringing her gloved knuckles to his lips.

"You look nervous," he tells her softly. 

"A little," Lydia says, nodding. "Only because I haven't been here since I was… nine? And there's so much to tell them. I mean, I know my mom filled them in on pretty much everything, but still."

Scott nods as well, saying, "I know. It's a lot. But it'll be okay."

"Yeah, of course," Lydia agrees. Her smile seems a little more confident as she gives another nod.

They walk through the gate, into the garden that Scott's now seeing is teeming with things; empty plant pots, kids toys, an overturned bicycle. Even the stones of the house are more interesting than he had initially realized, with bright murals painted across the whole front of the house. 

As soon as they enter the house, the door closing behind them, they're hit with unexplainable warmth. And the shouting and giggling of kids that whiz past them, nearly knocking them off their feet. 

"I forgot how loud it gets here," Lydia says, but she's laughing. Scott can see it in her eyes as she looks around the entrance hall, beautifully decorated with lengths of tinsel, and handcrafted baubles hanging from the ceiling. 

Framed pictures line the walls up the stairs as far as he can. The closest one, hanging by the bottom of the stairs, has a familiar little girl, giving her biggest smile to the camera beside a young woman with a striking resemblance. 

"Is this you?" Scott asks, his smile wide. 

Lydia looks at the photo. "Oh god, yeah. I think that was when I was, like… six? I came up here every Christmas and New Year before my parents divorced. That's my gran."

"You look like her," Scott tells her, and he can hear the joyful skip of heart, hear it in her proud little hum of agreement. 

"Well, maybe without some of the grey hair," a voice says from behind them. 

They both turn around, and Lydia's face lights up. She's already squealing and dropping her suitcase and Scott's hand. 

"Gran!" Lydia practically flies at her, hugging her tightly. 

Her gran laughs, caught by surprise but only for a second, wrapping her up in her arms. "I've missed you too, Ariel!" 

"Haven't heard that name in a while," someone else says, with a distinctively more Irish accent, but still holding the same fond, overjoyed tone.

Scott looks at the woman who appears at their side from the room behind Lydia and her gran. He recognizes her instantly from all the photos. 

Maddy places a hand on Lorraine's shoulder as she and Lydia pull apart. Lydia looks on the verge of tears as she buries herself into Maddy's open embrace as well for a second, both laughing now. 

"And you…" Lorraine looks over Scott with a smile and a gleam in her eyes. A certain kind of knowing. "... You're Scott McCall."

Scott returns her smile and nods. "I am. I've heard a lot about you, Mrs. Martin."

"Yeah, I know a thing or two about you as well," Lorraine tells him, and he knows. 

He knows she isn't just talking about him and Lydia being together, but about everything. The deadpool. She knew who he was and what he was going to be before he even hit ten. 

For a moment, his worries from the ferry come back. Not all supernatural creatures are a fan of each other, and with the destruction that werewolves have a history of causing, banshees can't be that fond of them. And especially with everything that's happened to Lydia. 

But then her smile grows and she says, "I'm glad to finally meet you! And, please, call me Lorraine. This is my wife, Maddy."

"So, this is the little wolf that got your heart, huh?" Maddy jokes to Lydia, an arm around her shoulders. 

Lydia looks at Scott. She bites her bottom lip through her smile, and her eyes are saying everything. 

She nods and softly says, "Yeah. He is."

"Then you're more than welcome here," Lorraine says.

Relief starts to lift the weight off of Scott's shoulders and chest. The warm, welcoming atmosphere is hard to resist, and he's already feeling at home. 

-

Lydia was right. The hot chocolate is one of the best things he's ever had. Creamy and overflowing with marshmallows with a candy cane to stir it around. Not to mention the plate of cookies. He has never had a gingerbread man that tastes this good.

It's already dark outside, the sun having set an hour or two after they arrived. They already changed into warmer, more comfortable clothes, and settled in front of the fireplace in the living room to get rid of the chill from the snow. Lorraine and Maddy insisted. Didn't want them getting sick, and ignoring their protests about not being able to actually get sick.

"Your cousins don't look like they're having a good time," Scott comments quietly, watching the half-asleep couple sitting in the corner. 

"They have five kids, all under the age of ten," Lydia replies. "I think the only thing they can feel right now is exhausted."

Scott snorts. He looks around the room. He's met nearly everyone on this side of the family by now. Every cousin, second cousin, aunts, uncles. The kids that Lorraine and Maddy took in have been especially eager to meet him. 

His attention is drawn back to the little boy sitting cross-legged in front of him. He's only nine.

Scott wasn't expecting it when Lorraine and Maddy told him that around ten years ago, another banshee had found them. She was only nineteen and had no one and no idea what was going on with her. They took her in, Lorraine helped her. And from then, it's like their home was its own supernatural beacon, but for kids who had nowhere else to go. 

Sean, the little boy currently sneaking another gingerbread man from the plate, is a werewolf. His family, his pack, were hunted down when he was four. Lorraine felt it coming. She and Maddy found Sean. 

There's a little yelp and Sean clutches his hand. Scott catches a glimpse of tiny claws where nails should be. 

"Can I…?" he asks, holding out a hand. 

Sean hesitates, but he glances at Lydia, who smiles and nods encouragingly, then back at Scott. He slowly gives him his hand, palm up. 

"I don't know how to control it…" Sean mutters, looking down sheepishly. 

Scott inspects where the small trickle of blood is coming from. Three little lines where his claws accidentally caught his skin in passing. 

Shaking his head, Scott speaks gently, and draws on the pain in Sean's hand. "It's okay. You're still learning."

"Yeah, it's actually harder for born wolves," Lydia chimes in, nodding convincingly when Sean lifts his eyes to her with curiosity. "You'd think it was the other way around, but one of our friends—he was born a werewolf."

"And he didn't learn until he was sixteen," Scott tells him. "It just takes time."

"And knowing what keeps you grounded," Lydia adds. "Your anchor."

Sean looks at Scott. "Do you have an anchor?"

Scott nods. "I do. I had to learn to let me be my own anchor, but when that doesn't work for me, I focus on all the people I love. My mom, my best friend, my pack." 

He glances at Lydia only to find her already gazing at him with the softest smile, her cheek leaning against her shoulder. She places a kiss to his shoulder, her hand resting on her arm for a second.

"You just need to find something that makes you feel more in control," Scott finishes, turning back to Sean. "Even if it's an emotion."

Sean nods slowly. His expression is one of deep thought, trying to work to figure out what his own anchor could be. 

"Now, you should go clean this up," Scott says. "Just run it under warm water with some soap, okay? It might sting a little, but just ask Lorraine or Maddy if they have any antibiotic cream, and then put a bandage on it."

"Are you a doctor?" Sean asks.

"No," Scott can't help but grin as he says, "I'm just a vet."

That answer only seems to confuse Sean. But he gets up and hurries off to go do what Scott instructed. 

When Scott turns back, Lydia's still watching him. She has this look on her face, a thoughtful glaze in her eyes and a certain kind of smile that he can't read. 

Chuckling, Scott asks, "What is it?"

She lets a beat pass. She shakes her head, takes a slow breath in, then looks over at the window instead.

"It's still snowing. Do you wanna sit in the garden? There's a nice bench out back."

Scott's eyebrows furrow a little, but he stands with her, following her to the back door from the kitchen. Stepping outside is like what he'd imagine stepping into a walk-in freezer would feel like. 

But the cold biting at his skin is unimportant. The awe hits him all over again as he takes in the sight of the garden, feeling like he just stepped into a fairytale instead. Everywhere he looks, everything is white and sparkling. From the entire ground, to the gazebo at the end of the garden. 

Somehow, in amidst it all, there are flowers. Whole roses and everything, snow dusting across their dark red petals. 

"This is…" Scott breathes out, his eyes wide, "... I don't even know what this is. This place doesn't feel real."

Lydia laughs gently. She wraps her arms around her and nods, looking around as the snow falls around them. 

"Yeah, it does feel kind of… magical."

"We could actually make a snowman," Scott continues. "Or have a real snowball fight. Are snow angels things that people actually do?"

Lydia's eyebrows are raised when he looks back at her, and she's shaking her head. But she's got a smile that stretches to the corners of her eyes and he can feel emotions radiating off of her.

"You are so dorky." She moves closer, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. "And I love you."

Scott smiles. His voice is soft and giving away all of the fondness he feels for her when he says, "And I love you."

She leans in, her head tilting. Her lips are soft against his. He pulls her a little closer, his arms wrapping around her waist. The cold and even the snow is easier to ignore.

Lydia pulls back, her hands lingering on his shoulders. Scott doesn't let go at all. 

"I'm really glad you're here with me," Lydia tells him. "And my whole family now loves you, so that's a nice bonus. I think you even made a friend."

Scott grins, shrugging. "Your family is great, and I am… beyond relieved that they like me. And, I think with Sean, it's a werewolf thing."

"Oh, no." Lydia shakes her head firmly. "Maybe that's a small part of it, the whole Alpha thing and all, but all of the kids in there love you."

They pull apart. Lydia sits down on the bench. Scott follows, and can't help but start piling the snow from the arm of the bench into a ball in his hand. 

"You were amazing with Sean," Lydia comments, glancing at him. She's doing the same thing with the snow on her side. 

Scott shrugs again. "I just told him the same as I told Liam. And Alec. It's how I wish I could have been introduced to all of this. With someone reassuring me that it would be okay."

Lydia nods in a shared understanding. Neither of their starts in the supernatural word were exactly pleasant or comforting. Scott's only sorry that Lydia was brought into it the way she was. 

She rests a hand on top of his, curling her fingers beneath his palm. She squeezes gently. 

He knows that she can tell what he's thinking. Sometimes he worries that banshees have the ability to read minds as well. But the look she gives him and her hand there with his draws his thoughts away from the past. Everything is okay. It's better than okay. 

"It's amazing what your gran and nana have done, though," Scott says. "Taking in supernatural kids who have nowhere else to go."

"Yeah, it's like a little foster home, but… for werewolves, banshees, and everything else," Lydia jokes, but her smile is sincere. "It's a really good thing they're doing. The kids are so happy here."

"I can see why," Scott says, gazing back out across the garden. The snow has the sky practically glowing, in no way looking like it's dark enough to be night. 

There's a slight pressure against his hand from Lydia's fingers, moving slowly. 

"Do you… do you think that's something you'd ever want to do?" Lydia asks, careful with her words.

Scott looks back at her. She's watching him again, with curious eyes. His heart drops many beats.

"Wait, are you—?" he starts to ask, but Lydia's eyes widen and she quickly shakes her head.

"No!" she hastens to answer. "No, I'm not! I just meant… you know, in general, is it—is it something that you can see for the future? Not necessarily the foster home part, but… you know."

She chews her bottom lip. Scott takes it in, letting the question process. After a moment, a smile curves the corners of his mouth up.

"Imagine, the first werewolf-banshee hybrid," he says.

"That can't have been done before," Lydia agrees, a laugh to her voice. "I wonder if one side would skip them, or if we'd be creating a whole new species."

Scott actually does laugh now, and Lydia joins him. His stomach is buzzing with butterflies or bees, he can't tell. 

When they both go quiet, Scott slowly nods. He lifts his eyes to meet Lydia's.

"I like the sound of that," he says softly. "Whether it be a werewolf-banshee hybrid, or even an orphaned werewolf with nobody else… yeah. It's something I see for the future."

Lydia takes in a deep breath. She presses her lips together as her smile threatens to take over her entire face. She just nods, and breathes out slowly.

"Good to know," she says. "I do too, for the record."

"Okay, that's great," Scott says, grinning from ear to ear. 

Lydia hums in agreement. Then the ball of snow that she'd been forming hits him square in the chest. 

It's safe to say that it is freezing. The snow instantly seeps through his Christmas jumper, melting into his skin. He gasps while Lydia laughs behind her hands, hee eyes wide.

"You said you wanted a snowball fight…" she reminds him. 

Scott nods. "You're absolutely right. I did."

The ball of snow in his own hand hits Lydia. She gasps, snow sticking to her jumper as well now. 

"Oh my god, so cold!" she exclaims. "Why is that so cold?!" 

"Because it's real snow," Scott says, his excitement quickly returning. 

Lydia looks at him, her eyes narrowing. A familiar, competitive smirk forms on both their faces. 

"Game on," she says. 

Next second, they're trying to dodge out of the other's way, snowballs flying across the garden. There are gasps and shouts and laughter when they successfully land a shot. 

Maybe it's a little unfair that Scott taps into his heightened abilities to move faster. But the advantage doesn't stop Lydia from managing to sneak up on him and tackle him into the snow. It's so deep that they sink a few inches into it, laughing until their sides and faces ache, and neither of them actually win, both claiming they did. But they end up just lying there in the freezing snow, curled into each other, staring up at the night sky. 

[misskikuwrites]

More Than a Crush

(More Than a Rival pt. 2)

Bede/Gloria (dressedinpinkshipping)

-

Bede didn't know how he ended up back home. The journey back to Ballonlea was a blur. He stumbled forward onto his bed, flopping face-down as his mind whirled.

His heart still raced. Pounding in his chest, thundering in his ears, it hadn't slowed at all from the rapid pace sparked by Gloria taking his hand. He turned his head to stare at it. His fingers tingled. He could feel the ghost of her touch even now.

Bede's cheeks burned hotly. He scrunched his face, grumbling.

He was in love with Gloria.

He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration and he saw her smile. That sweet smile of hers, dazzling in the moonlight, appeared in his mind as though she were right before him. He heard the way she called his name, heard her bright twinkle of laughter.

He was in love with Gloria.

Bede rolled onto his back and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes with a silent scream.

"How could I be-?!" he hissed in the silence of his room.

He wanted to grind the memory of her smile, the feeling of her hand in his, from his mind. The heat coiling on his cheeks began to ache. His heart fluttered dangerously fast.

This… is this really…?

… Love?

The surge of emotions coursing through him made it difficult to breathe.

He threw his hands off his face, pounding the mattress beside him with a huff.

No, this wasn't love. If anything, it was a crush. That's all.

A silly crush. Infatuation. His heart was racing because of the situation, not because of her. Perhaps he'd gotten caught up in the moment and mistaken the pounding of his heart for something else.

Either way, it would pass. He wouldn't let this , whatever it was, change anything.

He certainly wasn't going to let it turn him into some ridiculous, love-struck fool. It was a crush. Nothing more.

And he would crush it into dust.

-

She was here.

Bede slammed the locker room door shut as quickly as he'd opened it after catching a glimpse of Gloria. He stared at the door, eyes wide and unseeing. Frozen with his hand on the doorknob, his breath caught in his throat, he stared at nothing.

Against his will, heat began to pool on his cheeks.

It had been days since he'd seen her, since that moment on the path outside her house, yet a single glance was all it took to send him right back there. To that moment in the darkness, illuminated by moonlight, their hands joined in the space between them.

Why is she here?!

This was his exhibition match with Milo. Not hers. She had no reason to be here, no reason to appear out of nowhere and sent his heart stuttering.

Bede inhaled sharply, scowling at the back of the door as though it had offended him.

It's just a crush, he told himself. Scolded himself. Get over it!  

He straightened, raised his head, steeled his expression, and opened the door. And saw Gloria right in front of him.

"Hey, Bede!" she chimed, smiling sweetly at him.

Bede's heart skipped, stealing the air from his lungs, and he blinked at her for a stunned moment before he could think clearly enough to reply.

"What are you doing here?" he huffed, pushing past her to the waiting room. He busied himself with his bag, his Pokeballs, so he didn't have to look at her. "Don't you have more important things to attend to, Champion?"

"Not today, I don't!"

She skipped over to him, unphased by his clipped tone. He warmed involuntarily as she appeared in the corner of his eyes.

"So, you thought you'd come bother me instead?"

He frowned, annoyed at his stammering heart and his inability to swallow the emotions flustering in his chest.

It's just a crush, he reminded himself. You're not in love with her.

"I didn't know you were here, actually. I came to watch Milo's exhibition match. I didn't know you were his opponent."

Bede's frown deepened. "Then why aren't you bothering him instead?"

"I was just speaking to him earlier. And I wasn't bothering him. We're friends."

Friends.

His brow twitched. Something heavy dropped into his gut.

"Well, you're bothering me. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to prepare for my match in peace."

"Wow, what's up with you today? Woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something?"

"I have not."

"Then what's the issue?"

He bit back a frustrated huff. "Is it really too much to ask for peace and quiet before my match? Or is it part of the Champion's duties to hover around like a Combee?"

"It's not, but-"

"Then would you quit being a nuisance and let me prepare in silence?"

"Only when you tell me why you're acting like this!"

"Like what?"

"Like… like a jerk! I just wanted to come and wish you well for the match and you've done nothing but begrate me the whole time!"

Bede snapped his head towards her at the crack in her voice, his eyes blowing wide. She pouted, arms folded, cheeks puffed, her eyes narrowed at him in defiance. Unshed tears glistened when she blinked.

"You didn't even look at me," she added quietly. "I thought… we were past this."

His heart plummeted, blood running cold with shame. His mind screeched to a halt. Anything he could have said vanished like a puff of smoke in a breeze. Swept away when she exhaled a soft, dejected sigh.

"Is that what I am to you? A nuisance? A bother?" She looked away, her expression falling. "I thought that maybe… we were friends. I guess I was wrong. Sorry to bother you."

She whirled to leave.

"Wait-!"

She stilled. Stood there with her back to him for a moment, a second that felt like a lifetime, before turning slightly to face him.

Bede's heart was in his throat. Beneath her wary gaze, he felt the same as he had that night. When he'd lanced her with his words and fumbled through an apology just to see her again, to see her smile-

His jaw clenched. Hands tightened into fists at his sides, a familiar trickle of warmth running through his veins.

He knew this feeling well. A feeling that came all of a sudden, washing everything else away. His hesitation, his doubts. A feeling that made him throw everything else out door and burst onto the stadium to challenge her in front of the world.

A feeling that made him do stupid things, say stupid things…

It's just a crush.

This isn't…

His heart thrummed. He met her eyes, taking a breath to focus himself.

"I suppose, if you had to put a name to it, that we are friends," Bede said.

She looked at him, her expression unchanging.

It wasn't enough. The pounding of his heart was insistent. Deafening. Words he couldn't say, things he wouldn't admit, danced on his tongue.

"It doesn't seem like it," Gloria countered. "Whenever I speak to you, you're always… like this." She gestured at him. "You just said I was being a nuisance and now you're saying we're friends? Which is it? Do you want me around, or not? Because… I'm not sure how much of this I can take. If you want me to leave you alone, I will. I won't bother you again."

She turned her head away, hugging her arms to her chest.

"You said you were glad to meet me. To live in the same century as me. But when you act like this, how am I supposed to believe that?"

"Gloria, I-" he tripped on his words.

Saying her name was enough to make his tongue fumble. His heart swelled with everything he could say, filling and overflowing with a feeling he didn't dare name.

How could he explain any of this when he didn't understand it himself?

"You're not a bother," he managed to choke out. He sighed, exhaling the air he'd held tight in his lungs. "It was a… poor choice of words. I'm sorry."

Her expression lifted slightly, enough to make his pulse skitter. She met his eyes again, searching his face.

"Then, what did you mean?"

"I needed some space, that's all. I'm not used to having people around me like this."

"Having people around you? Like… friends?"

He huffed. "That doesn't matter. I want to focus on the match and you keep distracting me."

"Distracting you?"

Wait-

He didn't mean to say that-

Gloria's mouth quirked in a smile, a flicker of light returning to her eyes in amusement. Bede met her grin with a glare.

"Wipe that ridiculous grin off your face. I didn't mean it like that and you know it."

"Mean it like what?"

Laughter twinkled in her eyes.

He huffed. "Get your head out of the clouds. I meant that having to converse with a friend was distracting from my preparations, that's all."

The jitter of his heart said otherwise. Her smile brightened, the corners of her eyes crinkling in an adorable way that made his pulse skip.

"We're friends," she said, sounding those words out like a dreamy sigh. Whimsical and breathless. "I think I can actually believe that now."

A spear of heat blazed through him, shooting from his face to the tips of his fingers, sending his blood aflame. He felt warm. Too warm. Warm and dizzy and breathless-

He looked away in fear that he'd combust.

What was this?

What was wrong with him?

Wasn't this just a simple crush? An infatuation with the girl who beat him time and time again, who bothered herself with him for no good reason?

Wasn't this meant to be nothing more than a mix up of adrenaline for something deeper? Confusing the rush of battle, the unpredictable nature of Gloria, with feeling towards her?

When he lifted his eyes to look at her again, she was right before him. Her smile dazzling in front of his face. His breath caught silently in his throat when she touched his arm. The warmth of her fingers bled through his sleeves.

"Good luck with your match, Bede," she said. "I'll leave you to prepare, then."

He couldn't breathe. She whirled on her feet, leaving him with the sight of her brown hair swishing just above her shoulders. She left with a final coy wave, a smile at him over her shoulder.

He stared at the door long after she'd gone. His heart refused to slow. His fingers trembled at his sides, burning with the urge to grab her hand as she'd turned to leave. He'd almost done it. Almost reached out for her hand.

Her smile remained the only thing in his mind.

He couldn't do it. Couldn't deny it any longer.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, he'd fallen for her. He'd fallen in love with Gloria.

The Champion. His rival. The girl from Postwick that he never thought he'd think twice about.

Gloria.

Bede sighed heavily, dropping onto the bench with a resigned huff.

Arceus.

This wasn't supposed to happen!  

Her smile flashed in his mind. Her wish of good luck, the gentle touch of her hand on his arm.

Bede hung his head.

Damn it.

At least, for now, she didn't have any idea how he felt.

He would do everything to keep it that way.

It might not be as something as simple and fleeting as a crush, but it could still be suppressed.

He wasn't about to let her, or anyone else, know how he felt.

[otonymous]

Hi!!!! Can I please request some "first times" with ikesen Yuki? both him and MC having 0 experience with any relationship related thing. Like Yuki and MC kissing and it was the first time for both of them..♥ first "I love you" and first time making love and giving/receiving oral (if you're okay with nsfw!!! it's okay if you don't wanna do it) thank you very much!

Hi Anon!  Thank you so much for the ask!  I am definitely okay with NSFW (as you can see by my Masterpost!) so hope you enjoy this long and filthy Yukimura headcanon!

Yukimura’s Firsts (Ikesen HC - NSFW):

Warning: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language, so reader discretion is advised 

Yukimura is pretty awkward around you (and women in general) to begin with: lots of teasing, calling you names (enchantress, boar woman) and blushing

Patience is key — it will take time for Yuki to finally put a finger on his emotions and admit to himself that you’re special to him, more than just a friend

Will take him even longer to make any moves on you, especially if there’s no impetus for him to do so (e.g. an impending battle in which he may lose his life)

Your first kiss will have been planned by him weeks in advance in discussions with Sasuke.  You know he’s gone overboard when even Sasuke has to tell him he’s overthinking things

Yuki will likely tell you he loves you before he even tries anything remotely physical, even before your first kiss

In fact, his declaration of love will come at the same time

He’ll take you to his special spot, an abandoned field dotted with beautiful wildflowers, in order to set the scene for your first kiss

When you are both comfortably seated under the cover of a tall tree, the dappled rays of the afternoon sun kissing your extended legs, Yuki will slowly lean into you, his hand hesitantly finding its way to rest on top of yours

You have a sense of what he is trying to do, and although you’ve been dying for this moment, you’re suddenly nervous now that it has finally arrived.  Shyness overtaking you, you look to the ground, feigning interest in the hem of your kimono.

“I love you.”

He blurts it out of nowhere.  And when you look up in surprise, his lips fall upon yours

The first kiss will be a bit awkward, trying to figure out how to angle your faces so your noses don’t bump against each other

While you’ve always admired his lips when he wasn’t paying attention, you never dreamed they would feel as soft as they do

Starts off as a tender press of your lips together, a few pecks here and there.  But before long, you’ll feel his tongue licking the seam of your lips, pressing gently for entry into your mouth

You’ll both gasp at the sensation when your tongues finally meet: like a floodgate opening, it lights a fire inside the two of you and before long, you’re rolling around on the grass and crushing the flowers, trying to make up for lost time

For the life of him, Yukimura does not know why he waited so damn long to do this

Your kimono bunches up as his knee parts your legs.  Overwhelmed by desire, you shamelessly rub up against his thigh, excitement coursing through you when you inadvertently feel his growing hardness through his hakama

Hands are everywhere: caressing, grasping, pulling

After what feels like an eternity, you hesitantly part, both panting and lips swollen.  Your rouge has rubbed clean off, the sun has begun to set and you’ve both missed dinner service but are hungering for something else entirely 😏

He will hesitantly approach Shingen for tips and instruction before you guys move beyond kissing/heavy petting —  but first, poor Yuki has to endure the way Shingen stares proudly at him when he realizes his boy is growing up

Shingen finally relents when Yuki threatens to leave and figure things out on his own

When Yuki refuses Shingen’s offer to take him to the red-light district so they can observe courtesans in action, the latter gifts him with a giant collection of shunga instead

There will be a lot of blushing and embarrassed chuckles when you both study these erotic pictures together as an instruction manual of sorts.  At the same time, the sexual tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a blade.  

The first time you go down on him, he almost collapses to the floor, reaching out both hands behind him to steady himself against the wall

The man is loud: if he’s not outright moaning and groaning, his heavy breathing and sighs are telltale signs to everyone in the vicinity that something x-rated is going on

You may need to gag him with the sleeve of his own kimono

Dimensions: nice cock — average girth, above average length (deep-throating will be a challenge), pretty much just juts straight out (not much curvature)

Doesn’t last very long the first time you give him head — accidentally comes in your mouth.  Shocked by the sudden spurts, you swallow without thinking.  

He doesn’t taste half bad: his cum is mainly bland with a hint of salt

Yuki apologizes profusely, but also cannot help how turned on he gets to see his cum dripping from your lips and onto your chin.  He is already hard and ready to go again in no time (his youth makes for a short refractory period)

He melts when you lay wet, sloppy kisses on the head of his cock

Has a deep appreciation for your “handiwork” while your mouth is occupied: keep that hand pumping up and down his exposed length, gently fondle his balls, run your nails lightly up and down the hard muscles of his ass

The man has to work hard to fight the urge to bury his fingers in your hair and buck with abandon into your watering mouth

Yuki makes an earth-shattering revelation the first time he goes down on you: he could easily spend the rest of his life with his face buried between your legs

Initially, he takes so much time just staring at the way your folds glisten with arousal that you start to feel nervous, craning your neck to get a glimpse at his face: he looks like a man possessed

Then, when you feel his tongue make a broad stroke from the perineum to your clit, his breath moist and hot against your entrance, you almost clamp his head between your thighs in pleasure

This man is high-key into eating you out: could easily go on for hours if you let him

He is thorough: no part of your pussy will go untouched by that tongue, his fingers

Loves: sucking your clit into his mouth and feeling your entire body spasm from the tiniest flick of his tongue against it, fingering you while he laps up the juicy fruits of his labour, watching your arousal overflow to drip down your ass crack onto the bedclothes

First time making love: he will be gentle, gentle, gentle.  You guys have gone pretty far with the fingering and oral sex, but Yuki has heard talk that a girl’s first time can be quite painful, so he tries to make the event as special as possible, get you to relax so that you can enjoy the experience too

Will take your virginity in the missionary position: slowly eases himself into you, carefully watching your facial expressions for any hint of pain/discomfort so he can stop anytime you say so

Aside from a bit of pressure, you experience a lot less pain than you were expecting (helps that you’re already so aroused from him going down on you beforehand)

Pretty soon, you’re meeting his hips with enthusiastic thrusts of your own, signalling him to let go of his inhibitions.  The rest is history.

He is young and in great shape: stamina galore.

Best sex positions: pretty much any position that takes advantage of how deeply he can plow with his length (doggy style, lotus position) — the depths he can reach in these positions will take your breath away (feels like his cock is penetrating all the way up to your throat, no joke)

Aftercare: Yuki always has a cup of tea or flask of water ready for you after lovemaking, as well as handkerchiefs to gently clean you up (especially since he loves to cum on you and watch it drip down the curves of your body).  Falls asleep quickly after the deed while holding you tightly within his arms.

Thanks for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E4; Chapter Four, Will the Wise - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

||3rd Person POV||

"Flo?" Joyce had been phoning the police station all morning in attempts to reach the only person she thought could help. "It's Joyce, again."

"Oh, hi, Joyce. Listen, I gave him your message-"

"He's still not there?"

"No, but-"

"Did he get any of my messages from yesterday? Did you give--"

Joyce began pacing slightly, twirling the phone cord anxiously in her fingers.

"No, no, I need Hopper. Just tell him to call me the second he gets in. Please... Thank you."

She shoves the phone angrily in its place, reaching up she grabbed the bridge of her nose, pinching it to calm her nerves. The stress was already getting to her.

She heard a small patter of footsteps approaching, and she put on a happy face.

"Hey. How you feeling, sleepyhead?" She brushed Will's bangs aside and ruffled his hair slightly. "Any better?"

Will, still groggy from sleep, shook his head with a grunt.

"Same as last night? Still weird?" She asked gently.

He took a seat at the kitchen table and she knelt down in front of him. Pushing the strands of hair aside, she felt for his temperature expecting a small fever. However, she hadn't picked up on anything and she figured she must need a more accurate reading.

She returned shortly with the glass thermometer and took a seat opposite him. Will sat patiently with the thermometer under his tongue and tried his best not to move it.

Joyce kept a close eye on the time, glancing up occasionally from her watch. Finally, she pulled the glass stick out from Will's mouth and was shocked to see the results.

She frowned as the red line stayed firmly at 95°. Will, who noticed her expression spoke up.

"Is it a fever?" She shook her head, confusion still written all over her face.

"No. Uh, actually, it's cold. Do you feel cold?"

"No. Just a little out of it." He replied, speaking slowly. "Like I haven't really woken up yet."

She looked at him quizzically, racking her brain trying to figure out what it could be. Will, who misinterpreted her expression grew defensive.

"You promised no doctor."

She smiled warmly, and shook her head softly.

"And I meant it. No doctor," Will visibly relaxed at his mother's words. "You know what? I'm gonna run you a nice bath and it'll warm you up and hopefully get you feeling better. How's that sound? Okay?"

Joyce reached out and patted his hand gently before standing and heading into the bathroom, missing the involuntary uneasy expression her son wore.

×××

"Morning, Dart" Dustin chirped, having ripped off the sheet he had covered his terrarium with.

Dustin had waited until his sister left for school to talk to his new companion. Coincidentally, he didn't have to wait long, his sister seemed to be in an awful hurry to get to school early.

Taking off the lid, he sprinkled little chunks of nougat into the terrarium. Dart happily started nibbling.

"I gotta go to school, but I'll be back soon. Sound good?"

Dart looked up at Dustin, and chittered happily in agreement, crumbs of nougat falling from his face.

Dustin smiled in return. He placed the sheet back over the glass, forgetting to put the top back on and he left for school.

×××

Dustin parked his bike in his usual spot next to Y/n's. His eyes scanned the bike rack, and sure enough, he recognized the usual models that belonged to his friends, parked in their usual spot. But where were his friends?

They were nowhere in sight, not that Dustin could see anyway. He stood, turning this way and that scanning the campus but saw only the nameless figures of his schoolmates.

Just then he heard a familiar voice drift from the ally that led behind the school.

"Stop being a baby and do it already!" It was Mike.

Following the noise all the way on the side of the school, he heard accompanying voices grow louder, and he finally found himself at the dumpster on the side of the school.

"This is disgusting. Is this really necessary?" Max asked, leaning on a long poking stick like the others had.

"I know, it stinks. Literally, but we can't be too careful, we have to find him." Y/n said.

There stood Max, Mike and Y/n. They tore their eyes away from the dumpster, towards Dustin.

Rustling was coming from the dumpster.

"What the hell's going on?" Dustin asked.

"What do you think? We're looking for Dart." Mike said.

Suddenly, a large black trash bag came flying out of the dumpster, narrowly missing Dustin.

"Jesus!" Dustin exclaimed jumping back, rather startled.

Another bag went flying, more garbage flew out from the large metal bin soon followed by a very disgusted and very much peeved Lucas.

He grunted as he landed on his feet from his jump.

"Well, well, well," Lucas drawled, glaring at Dustin. "Look who finally decided to show up. After I drew the short straw. Real convenient."

"Yeah, where the hell were you Dustin? You said you were right behind me," Y/n asked confused, referring to her earlier encounter with her brother.

Max gagged slightly and walked over to stand in between Y/n and Dustin.

"You stink!" She said, referring to Lucas. Dustin smirked at Max, extra friendly, clearly happy she had joined him by his side.

"Hi, Max." She looked at him wearily and slowly responded.

"Uh, hi?"

Dustin didn't seem to notice this but Y/n and Max shared a look, Y/n was trying not to giggle.

That is, until Dustin spoke up.

"Where's Will?"

"I tried reaching him, but I couldn't get thro-" Y/n was then cut off by Mike.

"He'll be here." He said, matter of factly.

Y/n gave Mike an incredulous look, baffled and offended by his short temper with her.

'What the hell, was his problem?' She thought.

Whether he sensed the tension growing between the two friends and wanted to change the topic or he just didn't notice, Lucas addressed Dustin before anything else could be said.

"So, what, are you just gonna stand there?" Lucas tossed an identical looking poking stick to Dustin who caught it.

"Or you gonna help?"

Y/n, who was trying desperately to put aside her growing anger, huffed and looked to her brother.

"I'm surprised at you, I thought you'd be jumping at every chance to find him. Given how much of a fuss you made,"

It came out as more of a question than an accusation but Dustin was defensive nonetheless.

"Of course, I am! Why would you say that?" They each gave him a curious look, taken aback by his sudden behavior.

"Ok-ay then," Max said suddenly, breaking the confusing tension and silence. "Well, let's just get this over with then," The five children began poking at the overflowing trash backs that lay before them with each of their long sticks.

They didn't find anything in their search, aside from a cockroach that wiggled it's way out of the plastic bag.

It was heading right for Y/n, who jumped out of the way, yelping in surprise and disgust.

"All living things, from complex mammals to single-celled organisms, instinctively respond to danger."

The cockroach scuttled away in fright, having been suddenly disturbed and kicked out of his previous feeding ground.

×××

"...Expose a bacterium to a toxic chemical, and it will flee."

Y/n sat in her usual spot, slumping slightly in her one person desk, fiddling with her worn out eraser, something she normally did to get her through class when something was on her mind.

Still half listening to Mr. Clarke, she couldn't help but think about Will. She glanced over to her right, staring sadly at the empty seat of her absent best friend.

"Or deploy some other defense mechanism."

Her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes practically burning holes into the empty wooden seat that belonged to Will, getting lost in thought.

The scene felt all too familiar...

×××

Will stiffly crept into the bathroom, everything in him was hesitating, his instincts screaming at him not to.

"We're very much the same."

He had already changed into a towel that hung around his waist. The steam hit his exposed skin, it felt as if it stung him.

His heart began to pound.

If he had glanced down at his chest and looked hard enough he would be able to see the subtle pumping of his heart from the blood that coursed through his veins violently.

"When we encounter danger, our hearts start pounding."

His movements grew slower as he reached the bathtub. He approached it like it was a sleeping lion that could wake up and pounce at any sudden movement or noise.

Will felt his palms grow sweaty. He could feel his hands shaking violently, though he tried to stop it.

Every single drop of water that fell from the faucet with a plink, sounded to him as loud as a gunshot.

Beads of sweat covered his entire body. Enough had accumulated at his forehead that his bangs had dampened and clung to his skin.

"These are the signs of physical and emotional state we call..."

Every muscle in his body was tense, and he was now dripping with sweat. But the most overwhelming sensation was the sharp prickling of his skin at the back of his neck, where every hair stood on end.

"fear."

×××

"Hey, you reached Jim," Joyce sighed heavily into the phone at the answering machine she had been getting all day.

Having heard it countless times in the past hour, she slammed the button on the machine, hanging it up.

"Mom,"

Quickly she hung the phone back on the wall and turned to her son.

"Yeah, sweetie, what is it?"

"It's too hot." He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

With a slight frown, she walked into the bathroom, Will trailing behind her but stopped suddenly, refusing to enter the bathroom.

She heard the familiar deep gurgling of the bath water circling the drain.

He had already drained it. She took a seat on the edge of the tub, testing the remaining few inches with her fingers. It wasn't as hot as he made it seem.

"I... I can cool it down a little bit, baby, but we gotta get your body temp back up."

"No." He snapped, his tone strict and sudden. She did a double take at her son, he had never sounded more unlike himself and she looked at him in shock.

"What?" His stance never wavered and he only looked her dead in the eye.

"He likes it cold." She stared at him, completely appalled and he suddenly blinked several times.

Looking as if he pulled himself out of a long thought. He blinked a couple times and then retreated into the hallway.

×××

Hopper was putting the finishing touches on the windows.

Having spent the night in the frigid cold due to the shattered windows in the cabin. He had gotten up early and collected as many wooden planks as he could, boarding up the windows until he could get them fixed properly.

He had just turned around from the window he had just finished when he saw El peeking out from behind her green wooden door.

He stopped and met her eye. Her face still hardened into a glare, she slammed her door shut and Hopper trudged over and stood outside her room.

"Hey, kid." He didn't quite know what to say, but he knew he felt partially guilty.

Having said things he didn't mean. But he was still angry with her.

She stood directly on the other side of the door, her mask of anger gone, and she stared tentatively at the door.

Hopper reached his hand to the door, ready to knock but thought different of it. Instead, he leaned against the frame and reached for his outstretched hand and began fiddling with the familiar blue bracelet that he never took off.

"Listen, um... about last night, I, uh..."

El listened from the other side of the door, hoping he would say the words she had so desperately hoped he would say.

Hopper quieted for a moment, the words getting stuck in his throat. He panicked, and the emotions he felt at the words that were exchanged the previous night came flooding back to him and he bit his lip.

"I want this place cleaned up by the time I get back and then maybe I'll consider fixing the TV"

El turned away from the door, her heart sinking. Moments ago she would have perked up at hearing the TV - her favorite source of entertainment that got her through the days - would possibly be fixed.

And yet, as she waited to hear the retreating footsteps outside her room, followed by the front door slamming shut, El felt disappointed and... alone.

×××

"Come in, Hop," Hopper stepped into his truck, sighing at the insistent voice that came from his radio. "Come in, Hop"

Grunting, he grabbed the speaker, he spoke gruffly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm on my way in, and yes, I do know what time it is."

He set the speaker down, reaching inside his breast pocket for a pack of cigarettes.

"Joyce Byers has called eight times already this morning,"

Hopper faltered, eyes dropping the radio in concern.

"Eight times,"

Hopper eagerly stuck a cigarette between his lips, needing one now more than ever.

"For my sake, please deal with her!"

Sticking his keys in the ignition, he turned it roughly. The engine roared to life, and Hopper mentally prepared for the worst.

×××

Tag List: @dickkwad @aimee-lucass @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely @missmulti @youpi-chan

DM me if you want to be added!

[darkangeldesignstudio]

Cherry Pie

summary: You have been working with the Winchesters for a couple of years now. Weird since you were once their target. Who would have ever thought a Kitsune could be friends with Hunters. But you wanted more than friendship, you wanted Dean and you would do anything to get him.

pairing: Dean x female reader

warnings: death, magical powers, and dirty dancing!

word count: 4.3k

A/N: Hello again! This is my second entry for @tilltheendwilliwrite‘s “T Shows Her Age: Songfic Challenge.” My song? Oh just a little number named Cherry Pie by Warrant, one of my favorite songs to dance to in the club. I saw this song on the list and thought, “who better to dance for than a sexy Dean, who just so happens to also be a fan of pie?” lol. First of all, I want to give a big thanks to my Beta @sexykitty96 for all of the encouragement and support. I really appreciate it love! This was the most frustrating fic I have written to date and I have thoroughly enjoyed the challenge it has posed for me. No smut this time, unfortunately, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless. Much love and happy reading!

Cherry Pie

It all started with a phone call.

Two female dancers from a local club, called Mischief, were dead. Both found in inconspicuous places near the club, but upon examination, neither case pointed to foul play. The police wrote both off as natural deaths and closed their case.

Luckily, the local coroner was a friend, and he noticed something that nobody else ever would have. “To the mortal eye, they appear as if they collapsed and expired from a heart attack.”

“Marvelous thing we aren't completely normal, then.” Your little quip caused Dean to chuckle. You smirked over your shoulder at him, flicking a fluffy black tail teasingly at him. Thinking back, it was somewhat funny how much your relationship had changed now that the brothers weren't trying to murder you.

Reminiscing on that fateful day made you smirk, but that was a story for another time. There were urgent matters to handle.

The team split. Sam left to stake out Mischief while Dean, moving as a private investigator, prepared to interview the locals. You, on the other hand, moved straight to the crime scenes.

Both were in alleys near the club, only a few blocks apart. You were met by overflowing dumpsters and the acrid stench of tobacco, vomit, and piss in the first alley. Since it was the older of the two sites, by a few weeks, it came as no surprise you discovered no magical residue. So, you decided it would be best to move on to the most recent scene before you became nose blind.

You got most of the same. The stink of moldy cigarettes and trash violated your senses as you went by a scrap of yellow police tape fluttering in the breeze. You sighed in relief. This alley was cleaner than the last. Only half a block away from Mischief, it appeared to have been thoroughly picked over by police and was only just starting to accumulate trash again. Lucky for you, because you could lock onto the slight notes of magic easily.

The scent was fading, but potent. The delicate smell held bittersweet notes of sexual pheromones. Only a specific creature could produce that smell.

You sent a text to the boys. “Meet me at the Motel. I found something interesting.”

Once you reached your motel room, you filled the guys in on what you’d found: “It has to be an incubus. But I've never known an incubus to execute its victims in this manner, most of them die quietly in their beds from multiple encounters.” Your tails, free of your magical glamor, swished around your frame as you paced the room.

Dean watched you pace, observing your body language as Sam asked questions. “What makes you suspect an incubus? Couldn't it have been just a regular vampire?” Your tails stiffened slightly with Sam's prodding, as if they were taking his doubt as a personal insult even though he knew you would never think that. This was business. You had to cover every base to be positive you were prepared for all probabilities.

Still, Dean didn't want you to think they doubted you. “Don't push so hard, Sam. You know she has a better nose for this sort of thing than we do. If she says it’s an incubus, then it is an incubus.”

You grinned at them. “Don't worry guys. I realize you are only sifting through all the possibilities. But the creature we are hunting is definitely an incubus, the smell in that alley was unmistakable.”

Sam nodded, pulling his notebook to his lap to look for any clue on incubi and how to slay them. Dean smiled sweetly and patted the bed next to him. You needed to rest, and he saw it. “It will take at least a day to get a plan worked out and get everyone into Mischief to stake it out. You should rest [Y/N]. Remaining in your human form drains you too much and we will need you to be in top form for what’s about to happen.”

“Thanks, Dean.” You smiled, touching your hand to his shoulder as you reached him. “I'm gonna grab a shower first. I smell like a dumpster.”

Dean laughed when you wrinkled your nose, making you giggle. He began to put his jacket on and walk towards the door. “I'll go out to grab us some food while you guys do your thing. What's it gonna be?”

You settled your order with Dean. By the time he returned, you had showered and Sam had a complete strategy in place for the next day. Tomorrow would be eventful; you just hoped they wouldn‘t bust up your plan before you could execute it.

The next morning, you set out towards Mischief. You and Sam would apply for jobs at the club while Dean, functioning as a wealthy patron, came in after the club was in full swing. You had to admit, Sam's idea was great, but you had a better plan.

A few hours later, you exited the club triumphant. The hostess practically dragged you to the back room when you said you wanted a job as a dancer. She never even glanced at your fake resume. You had a dance routine and song picked out within the first ten minutes of meeting her. She even provided you information on the two dancers that had died, while still assuring you that there was nothing to worry about. She showed you a costume that Dean was sure to drool over and granted you the stage name, Vixen.

It took every bit of control you had not to laugh at the irony. A kitsune called Vixen. Who could have guessed you’d receive a name so ironically exact? Picking up donuts on your way back to the motel, you informed the brothers of your success and sent Sam on his way to apply. Dean seemed suspicious of your chipper mood. Good thing you bought sweets to distract him.

It wasn't pie, so you wouldn't be safe from his queries for the long run. But if you played your cards right, he would be more than happy to have pie later.

You left for Mischief around five with Sam trailing behind you. It was better if everyone in the club thought you strangers. Less suspicion towards you meant more opportunity to catch the incubus in action tonight.

You entered through the front door and met a tall, gangly man in a monkey suit more fitting of the fifties. He leaned over your frame, raking his eyes over your body. Your hackles went up. This guy was a creep, and he made you suspicious, but his cologne made it impossible to tell if he possessed magic. It was frustrating.

The hostess from the night before sauntered towards you, putting her hand on the man's back to catch his attention. “George, this is our new dancer Vixen. Vixen, George is the owner of Mischief.” She smiled as she looked between the two of you. You shook George's clammy hands before he nodded and walked back towards his office.

You released the breath you didn't know you had been holding, looking up at the hostess. “Sorry, hun. George is a bit strange.”

You shrugged your shoulders, as nonchalantly as possible. “It's okay, ma'am. I've dealt with my fair share of strange in the past.” You both laughed.

“You are the first dancer here, dear. Once the other girls show up, I will call you to the back to introduce you.” She wandered off to the rear of the club.

Turning towards the bar, you locked eyes with Sam. If his expression was any indication, you knew he had overheard. “Shit.” You tried your best to appear innocent as you went towards the bar, hands in your pockets.

As you took a seat, Sam picked up the glasses from behind the bar and wiped them down. He plastered a fake smile onto his face. The perfect semblance of a coworker greeting a new friend. His eyes were another story. “A dancer? Really, [Y/N]? What the hell are you thinking?”

You growled at him. It wasn't the most menacing since you were in human form, but his questioning pissed you off. “It‘s the best course of action, Sam. I am a better use to you as bait than I am as extra eyes.”

He sighed. “Are you going to tell Dean or am I?”

“Neither.” You sighed, preparing to spill everything to Sam. "This is as much for him as for the case. We love each other, but he won't admit it because he doesn't want emotions to impede his duty. This is the best way I could think to show him I can be an asset to the team and care for him.”

“I understand.” He shook his head, smirking at you. “He‘s gonna be pissed when he finds out.”

You smiled deviously. “His anger won't last long when I'm through with him.” Sending Sam a wink, you stood just in time to hear the hostess call you from the back.

“Good hunting, Sam.”

Dean walked into Mischief at ten and made his way towards Sam. His eyes scanned the bar for [Y/N], expecting to see her there or waiting tables. Nerves seized his heart when you were nowhere to be seen. He perched himself on a stool at the far end of the bar, watching the rest of the club through the mirrors on the back wall, still scanning for you.

“She's not there.”

Dean looked up at his little brother and saw the smirk on his lips. “What did she do, Sam?”

“You will just have to wait and see, Dean.” With that, Sam opened a beer in front of his brother and pointed him towards the tables in the center of the room. “Just go with it.” He walked over to the other patrons.

Dean huffed, annoyed at his brother's cryptic answer and your absence. Why didn't you follow the plan? He stalked towards a small table towards the center of the dancer's stage to sit and nurse his beer. If you had changed the plan, you had a good reason for it. But why didn't you tell him?

As you donned your costume in the dressing room, you were giddy with nerves. Sure, you’re on a mission to kill a dangerous creature that could take the bait and attack you. But you’re also on a mission for the man you loved. A cool hand on your shoulder made you shiver.

“Hey Vixen, do you need anything before you go out on stage?” The blonde's voice was sickening sweet and her smile was as fake as her double D breasts and her icy blonde tresses. Diamond was a veteran and your costar for the night. The hostess had introduced her earlier, and you hated her immediately.

“I'm good, Diamond.” You smiled brightly up at her. “I may be new here, but I'm no novice to seducing men.” You almost missed the flicker of hate in her eyes. To her, you appeared young, beautiful, and delicate. An advantage of your magic; it made you irresistible to others. They never knew the threat you posed until it was too late.

The hostess walked into the room, cutting your conversation short. “Ladies, it's the last number of the night. I want you to give your best, go out there and show these men what they are missing.” Looking pointedly at you and Diamond, she smiled. “Vixen, you and Diamond will be the first to walk the floor. Pick a patron and show him a wonderful time. Everyone else will follow. Good luck, girls.”

When the hostess left through the curtains, you glimpsed Dean before a chilling voice whispered in your ear. “Break a leg, Vixen.” Diamond's smile was almost predatory, but you just smiled as the lights dimmed onstage.

You stepped out, this was your moment, and the music kicked on with that all familiar scream.

You smiled as the lights illuminated the girls on stage, one by one. Dean's jaw went slack and you giggled. Where the rest of the men saw the sexy leather bustier and leggings, you know Dean saw more. He saw the true you underneath the magic.

Dirty, rotten, filthy, stinkin....

Dean felt a surge of possessive energy take over. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. You personified beauty and danger and all he thought was, “MINE”.

She's my cherry pie Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise Tastes so good, makes a grown man cry Sweet Cherry Pie

Your beautiful black tails swung with the beat of the music. Your waist length, purple black hair flowed like silk as you rocked your hips and tossed your head to the rocking beat. The song was sinful and sexy and you never took your eyes from Dean's for more than a second.

Well, swingin' on the front porch, swingin' on the lawn Swingin' where we want 'cause there ain't nobody home Swingin' to the left and swingin' to the right If I think about baseball, I'll swing all night, yeah Yeah, yeah

All you ever wanted was for Dean to look at you the way he was right now. Eyes blazing like an inferno. It was exhilarating.

Swingin' in the living room, swingin' in the kitchen Most folks don't 'cause they're too busy bitchin' Swingin' in there 'cause she wanted me to feed her So I mixed up the batter and she licked the beater

You walked from the stage first, heading straight for Dean's chair. Diamond tried to cut you off, but Dean only had eyes for you. He waved her away from his chair. Her face was one of pure rage, but he didn't notice. You did, but you ignored it for now.

I scream, you scream, we all scream for her Don't even try 'cause you can't ignore her

You danced and swayed around his chair, touching him with light, sensual caresses. You wreathed your tails in icy, blue fox fire, running them around his arms, over his hands and under his chin. Leaning over the back of his chair, you tipped his head back and placed a sweet kiss to his lips, smiling when he groaned an impatient sound.

She's my cherry pie Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise Tastes so good, make a grown man cry Sweet cherry pie, oh yeah

Dancing in front of his chair, you enticed him. Dean had been struck dumb by the immense power you were demonstrating under everyone's noses. Where everyone else saw a pretty blonde, he saw a striking kitsune in all of her dangerous glory. It was astonishing, but all thoughts of your power had flown out the window when you kissed him.

She's my cherry pie Put a smile on your face, ten miles wide Looks so good, bring a tear to your eye Sweet cherry pie

He watched your body writhe like a snake in front of him, blue fox fire spread over your beautiful tails as you teased him. When you straddled his lap, his hands moved to grip your hips, but you used your magic to tie his hands to the arms of the chair. Much to his surprise.

Swingin' to the drums, swingin' to guitar Swingin' to the bass in the back of my car Ain't got money, ain't got no gas But we'll get where we're goin' if we swing real fast

Your hands were on his shoulders as you ground your hips into his. A little preview of what you would do to him tonight, you thought. His heated expression made you smile as you rolled your chest into his.  Stroking your tails over his arms and legs, you heard him groan as the cool sensation of your fox fire connected with his heated skin.

I scream, you scream, we all scream for her Don't even try 'cause you can't ignore her

You tossed your head back, giving him a full view of your exposed abdomen and tight leather leggings as you did a back bend over his knees, placing your hands on his ankles for balance. You skimmed your fingers over his legs as you rose over him.

She's my cherry pie Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise Tastes so good, make a grown man cry Sweet cherry pie, oh yeah

Grinding your pelvis into his as you stopped mere centimeters from his lips. Smirking, you flicked your tongue over his lips causing him to growl. The sound shot to your core and you gasped as Dean's hands escaped your magical hold.

She's my cherry pie Put a smile on your face, ten miles wide Looks so good, bring a tear to your eye Sweet cherry pie, yeah, pie

Dean's hands grazed your thighs, leaving a trail of heat up to your hips where he gripped you hard. He leaned into you with a devilish grin. “You are gonna pay for that sweetheart.” You gasped when his hands pushed you down hard, rocking your clit roughly over his hard cock. It felt so good, you almost lost the hold on the illusion you had made for the rest of the club. Dean chuckled when he saw your focus wavering. “Don't drop that illusion, babe. You are mine. I don't want to share this sight with anyone else.”

(Swing it!) All night long (Swing it!) Like a trained professional

His words struck a chord in your soul and you smiled. “You ready for the finale, love?” Dean nodded his head slightly. Unsure of what you had planned, but ready for anything as long as you never left his lap.

Swingin the bathroom, swingin' on the floor Swingin' so hard, we forgot to lock the door In walks her daddy standin' 6 foot 4 He said, "You ain't gonna swing with my daughter no more"

You gave him the most sensual lap dance of his life. It was clothed sex. Dirty as all hell and he couldn't have asked for more. His hands roamed your body. Touching every inch of skin he could find. It was heaven and you couldn't wait to get him alone later.

She's my cherry pie Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise Tastes so good, make a grown man cry Sweet cherry pie, oh yeah She's my cherry pie Put a smile on your face, ten miles wide Looks so good, bring a tear to your eye Sweet cherry pie Sweet cherry pie, yeah, huh

You ended the song with a kiss as Dean's hands stroked through your hair. It was everything you hoped for. Your tongues battled for dominance as he explored your mouth. He was like a man starved and you were more than happy to be the one he was starving for.

Swing it!

When the song ended, you were both jolted back to reality. The applause was loud and boisterous as the rest of the dancers stood. You smiled down at Dean. He smiled back, squeezing your ass when you stood to walk away with the rest of the dancers. You winked over your shoulder at him as you walked away, missing the hateful glare that Diamond shot your way.

In the back room, the hostess congratulated everyone on a job well done. “Vixen, you are one of the most phenomenal dancers I have seen in a long time. I hope you can stay for a while. Having you here will definitely bring in more customers.”

You smiled gratefully at her. Thanking her for giving you the opportunity. You lied, telling her you would love to stay, even though you had no desire to dance for anyone but Dean ever again and would be gone by morning. She was none the wiser.

Once she exited the room, you began to change into your normal clothes to go out onto the floor and speak with Dean and Sam. When you saw Diamond glaring at you, you just smiled and continued gathering your things. She was a small fry, no need to let a jealous bitch impede your case.

You met Dean at the bar and called Sam over. As he poured you both a drink, you told them of your suspicions of the club owner. He was the only male, so far, that had your instincts screaming at you. He was your most practical suspect and he would be the target at the end of the night.

Sam's thoughts on the matter made you pause. “I haven't seen him all night. He hasn't even left his office.”

“There are cameras everywhere in here. Maybe he's just watching the dancers from inside to discourage any suspicion.” Dean's point was valid, but something didn't seem right. What if you were wrong?

“There is one other person who could be involved.” Dean and Sam looked at you quizzically. They had never heard you doubt yourself this way. “Diamond. The dancer you waved off earlier. She's been acting weird since the moment she walked in today.”

Dean smiled. “Yeah, she looked pretty pissed when I told her I wasn't interested earlier.”

“Wait. What?” You were astonished. “She tried to get to you twice?” He nodded and your blood started to boil. “I'm gonna ring that bitch's scrawny neck.”

Both brothers chuckled and Dean stroked his fingers over the back of your clenched fist. “Don't fly of  the handle now, [Y/N]. You will need your energy to fight later.”

Sam laughed a bit more. “So, what's the plan for catching this thing? I'm assuming you have a new one since you changed your plan without telling us.”

You nodded and filled them in on the new plan. All thoughts of strangling Diamond gone, for now.

After closing time at Mischief, you left out the back door to wait in the alley. You pretended to play games on your phone as if you were waiting on a friend to pick you up. Half an hour passed before someone joined you in the alley. You looked up, expecting a hideous monster, but all you saw was Diamond. You pretended to ignore her, acting as if she was an insignificant bug under your shoe. No threat.

When she sauntered up to you and began talking, you sent an SOS to Dean's cell. “So, Vixen. You planning to take my place here?”

You gasped as if her question hurt. “Why would you ever think that, Diamond? I am only trying to make money like every other person in the world. I have no desire at all to take your place.”

She laughed maniacally, her face morphing into an ugly scowl. “Sure seemed like you are. That man should have been mine tonight. I could have made him mine.”

“So, that's what happened to those girls. You got jealous because they kept taking your prey?” You laughed darkly at the creature in human skin standing before you. “You are one nasty bitch.” Your smile was smug as shock filled her, now monstrous, features.

She screeched in rage, grabbing you by the throat and lifting your feet from the ground. You only smiled as you released your hold on your own powers.

The succubus dropped you to the ground. Backing away as your sleek black tails, wrapped in fox fire, fanned out behind you. You pulled your hair into a quick ponytail, exposing your pointed ears as the creature watched you. “I'm confused though.” You stared at her. Your prey. “How does a succubus mask their magic with the same scent as that of in incubus?”

She offered no explanation, only crouched into a fighting stance and running full speed towards your body. You blocked her with a wall of blue fire. Lighting up the dark alley around you.

The succubus shrieked as her flash began to bubble like melted wax. It was nasty. She fell to the ground raking long furrows into the flesh of her face, trying with all of her might to remove the fire before it killed her.

Her shrieking was deafening in the otherwise silent night as her flesh slowly melted away from her bones. As Sam and Dean rounded the corner, into the alley, a beautifully grisly sight met them. A black kitsune, wrapped in blue fox fire stood over a succubus, flesh melted from her bones as she was reduced to a begging and pleading mess on the ground.

Dean approached calmly, motioning for Sam to stay back. When he reached your side, your eyes connected with his and he gasped. The blue of your fox fire was reflected in those haunting eyes. This was a kitsune's power. The power to protect and the power to destroy.

He drew his gun, aiming at the half-dead creature's head without ever taking his eyes off of you. The sound of the gun made you both jump and you watched as the ashes of the succubus floated away on the breeze.

“Let's go home, [Y/N].”

You took Dean's hand and followed him back to the motel where you all gathered your things. A few hours later, you, Dean, and Sam were on a plane headed home.

When Dean asked you what happened in the alley, you only smiled. “Nobody gets to claim what is mine, Dean. That's a kitsune's promise.”

He laughed, pulling you into a deep kiss that left you breathless. You made it home soon after that and spent days in bed together. Exploring each other’s bodies and loving one another from sun up to sun down and throughout the night. There was no place you would rather be.

[engekihaikyuu]

Hyper Projection Engeki Haikyuu – The Strongest Team

Livedoor Interview Translation with the Karasuno cast

Full interview translation and more photos under the Read More! Please do not repost my translations.

Suga Kenta as Hinata Shouyou

Suga-san, you’ve been playing Hinata Shouyou ever since the very first production in 2015.  And all the while, bearing the heavy responsibility of being the cast leader.   Around the time of the first show, rather than think about being cast leader, I was just pushing myself to my absolute limit playing Hinata.  It was instead everyone around me being considerate because that was my focus.  If I think about it now, it was everyone else who helped make me into the cast leader.  

Then there was a growing awareness as the shows continued. I think so.  I think the role of cast leader became gradually bigger.  But when I compare myself as a person from now to then, I think I’ve gotten gradually more useless.  (laughs)

Useless? (laughs) Rather than me vigorously pulling everyone else along, I try to just focus on what theme or message should be conveyed and work so that I can convey that.  Then everyone else around me adds their amazing contributions.  They’ve let me experience some really great things.  (laughs)

When you first heard about your graduation, how did you feel? Because it’s a production that’s been going on for so long, we’ve all thought about our graduation at some point.  So when it was decided, my feeling was more... It’s finally here.  But since this show (The Strongest Team) is a nice break in the flow of the story, and was even a nice break for the manga, I think it’s probably the best possible time for a graduation.  

Right now, how do you want to tackle rehearsals?   Whether I want to or not, I get the feeling that I won’t be able to help being aware of our graduation.  I don’t want to have any regrets, and I want to end things by giving it my all.  That feeling in particular grows stronger every day. .....but I’m still really anxious. This production is one where the hurdles keep going up with every tour, and I feel like they’re pretty high this time around. My personal ideals toward this production have also become so high, and I feel this pressure to make sure the audience walks away with something more than just, “Wow, amazing!”  

During these three years, is there anything you feel you’ve improved upon personally so that Hinata could also improve and mature?   My expressions!  (laughs)  I think if I compare myself now to the first tour, that’s changed for sure.  Totally different now.  I was so immature back then.

Have you watched any of the older recordings recently? This summer I had the chance to watch the first show at our Engeki Summer fest screenings, but hmmmm, I couldn’t watch it without getting embarrassed.  (laughs)   Yes, that was everything I had to give at that time, but it was still so unrefined.  I did feel a little pleased to see myself working so hard, but there was also embarrassment creeping in.

The spring play this year, “Start of the Giant,” returned to the same staging style as the first show, and revived the slanted stage that had been used up until “Winners and Losers.”  Did it make you remember the first production? That’s right.  It was the same staging for the intro as back during the first show when I was the only one standing on that slanted stage with the spotlight on.  Because it was exactly identical to that, I was nervous.  When I remember our first production, I feel like I can’t help but be nervous... But the number of people who surround Hinata has grown so much compared to then, and I feel like that’s one way in which the production itself has grown.  During that first show, about 20 people surrounded me on that stage, and during Start of the Giant, it had become 30.  

I think the role of Hinata Shouyou must have some very special memories for you. Well yes.  When I got the role of Hinata, I was worrying about it constantly.  But on the other hand, I was trying to get myself worked up by saying, “I’ll play a Hinata that only I can portray!”  But again there was a part of me that thought, but what would I do if other people didn’t really accept me?  Aren’t there other people who are more like Hinata?  But I’ve made it this far, and now every time I hear people say, “I love Suga-kun’s Hinata,” I’m so glad that I went through with it.

Lastly, what does Engeki Haikyuu mean to you, Suga-san? It’s crazy hard.  .....But right now, I absolutely can’t feel the ending at all.  That’s probably because Engeki Haikyuu is still my focus right now, so it just hasn’t sunk in yet.  It still won’t.  For me, there’s no other show that I’ve continued to work on for so long, so as a stage actor and for myself personally, it’s become undoubtedly the most important work of my career. ....So, as I am now, I think Engeki Haikyuu is my “everything.”  

Kageyama Tatsuya as Kageyama Tobio

Kageyama-san, you joined the production in September of 2017 with the 4th play in the series, “Summer of Evolution.”  When you heard about the Karasuno cast graduation, what were your thoughts? I was surprised.  But I quickly switched over to thinking about just doing what I can do for now, because I don’t want to have even a single regret. But honestly, I’d finally felt like I’d reached my personal goals with “Start of the Giant,” and I just kept thinking, I want to do more!  I want to keep going!  Of course I have those feelings, but for right now I just want to work hard and do the absolute best I can do.

When you landed the role of Kageyama Tobio, what was something you’ve prioritized for playing this part? I think my relationship with Suga Kenta is important, but most of all, I think it’s the fact that Kageyama Tobio is not a character I created on my own.  Before me, the one playing Tobio was Kimura Tatsunari-kun, and I feel that I didn’t take over the character so much as the both of us made him together.  

And that’s what was important to you, Kageyama-san? Yes.  That and another thing I wanted to keep in mind when playing Tobio is that he’s a high schooler.  Including all the awkward parts of his personality, and his attitude with throwing himself heart and soul into his beloved volleyball, all of that is possible because he’s a high schooler.  If he were a working adult, there’d probably be a slightly different feel to his character. So I thought it was important to make sure I behaved like a high schooler.      

Was that done while remembering what your own high school years were like? There are parts that sync up pretty closely with my own high school experiences.  I played soccer back then.  I loved soccer, and I wanted to be really good at it, so I practiced everyday, and sometimes I was allowed to play in a match and sometimes not, there were times I had arguments with my teammates, and times where they shared my happiest moments...  I play Tobio while remembering all of those experiences and emotions.  

Karasuno is famous for having a lot of ad-lib, have you gotten used to that by now?  Back when you were interviewed for “Summer of Evolution,” you had said, “I’d just burst suddenly into laughter and be unable to respond.” I’ve gotten used to it... but I still can’t hold it in and I end up laughing. (laughs)  But I really can’t help it!  They’re just so crazy!

Who tends to be the most spontaneous? Ryoutarou, I think.  He’ll just suddenly say things out of nowhere like, “So, what’d you have for lunch today?”  He’s too easygoing.  

Even just seeing you on-stage, I feel like the relationship between Kageyama-san and everyone else on the cast has gotten closer. Within the Karasuno cast members, who is someone where your opinion of them now has changed drastically from your first impression of them?   Hmm... I wonder who...  Among the Karasuno members, I had a lot of acquaintances already from working together with them in other plays or on other work.  So probably the opinion that’s changed the most is my opinion of Suga Kenta.  Before we’d met in person, I only knew the Suga Kenta on-screen.  So it was refreshing to meet this Suga Kenta that’s so overflowing with warmth and kindness.  (laughs)

What kind of person did you think he was? (laughs) This might be kind of rude, but because he was a child actor and I’d always seen him, he just had the complete aura of an entertainer!  That was just the image I had for him.  But after actually meeting him and spending time with him, it turns out that he can get lonely easily, and there are a lot of other points to him that make him a person and are lovable.  I’m really fond of the way he smiles really widely while eating and saying, “Yummy!” Seriously, he’s cute, so cute. (laughs)  Of course as an actor I also have a lot of respect for him, but personally, my impression of him has changed a lot and I mean that in a good way.

And now the last question.  What does Engeki Haikyuu mean to you, Kageyama-san? A place that challenges me with anything and everything.  You know, I’m not actually the zealous type.  I’m more the type to carefully think everything through and then go about it slowly.  They understand that about me and then they also accept my opinions.  Whenever I start to hesitate, they give me a push and say, “It’s okay to challenge yourself.”  Engeki Haikyuu is that kind of wonderful and amazing place.  

Kosaka Ryoutarou as Tsukishima Kei

After the announcement of the Karasuno cast members’ graduation, in April this year you performed “Start of the Giant.”  Now you’re currently headed toward rehearsals for “The Strongest Team.”  Kosaka-san, what are your feelings going into these rehearsals? Business as usual.  I’m not worrying about the graduation, I’m going about things as if there’s going to be another show for me, giving my all at rehearsals, and having fun with everyone.

Do you suppose the sadness will sink in when the final show arrives? I will definitely cry. (laughs)

You’re going to admit to that now?! As I’ve been working on these, even when I knew there was going to be another play, I’ve cried every time.  Now that it’s truly, actually the last time.....I have no idea how I’ll end up. It’s a world I’ve never experienced before, so there’s even a part of me that’s almost looking forward to how everything will end up.

What did you feel when you first heard about the graduation? For every beginning, there’s an end. That’s a simple fact of life, but even if I understand that.... Rather than sadness though, there’s a much greater sense of achievement for having been involved with Engeki Haikyuu for so long. 

You’ve been playing Tsukishima Kei since the very first show.  Was there anything you’ve been prioritizing as especially important for playing this character? Tsukishima is like a troublemaking demon*, and he tends to say the opposite of what he’s actually thinking.  His personality is very contrary and he struggles with being honest about his feelings, that’s what I think.  So that’s what I’ve focused on, and I’ve tried to portray that in subtle ways.  Whether it’s with little eye movements, or his gestures, or even just how he stands. Instead of going with standard stage acting which tends to require deliberate vocal projecting, I’ve been speaking in low voices and paying attention to behaving a little more naturally.

*Specifically, Ryoutarou says amanojaku, which is a type of demon-like creature, or youkai, in Japanese folklore that loves to provoke people and instigate them into perpetrating wicked deeds.

And the plays involve a lot of scenes with just Tsukishima and Yamaguchi Tadashi.   During the first tour, the two of us would discuss a lot of things.  We talked a lot about how best to express their relationship, how best to act it out. But as we’ve kept on doing these productions, even if we don’t discuss anything, we’ve come to be able to understand each other with just a look.

As if you were actually childhood friends? Yes.  But since the “Summer of Evolution” play was the moment where our relationship changed, we went right back to discussing things heavily.  We were worrying and worrying right up to the very last day of rehearsal... On opening night we definitely let out over 100% effort, but we felt like even that wasn’t enough.  Not for Engeki Haikyuu.  We were both overwhelmed with the feeling that we needed to aim higher, so we kept talking about it even as we were touring.

Have you ever felt especially glad that Yamaguchi was played by Miura-san? We’re the same age, you know.  And that makes it so that we think of each other as rivals, considerably so.  When Kairi’s doing well, it can actually be frustrating and makes me think that I have to do more, I have to work harder.  That became our synergy, and I think we’ve both pushed each other to improve.

On the Fuji TV program “Out x Deluxe,” you basically exploded with love for Suga-san, and that’s very fresh in my mind. If I start talking about Kenta-kun, I won’t stop. (laughs)

Was there a particular incident that made you love him so much? There’s obviously his acting, but also Engeki Haikyuu was my debut production.  And he was aware of that and doted on me, and that made me so happy!! Kenta-kun is this grand senpai for me as an actor, and he has such a huge role to play, I kept thinking to myself, is it ok for him to be so nice to me? (laughs)  In any case, he’s really kind.  You know?

His face does seem to exude kindness. Exactly!  He’s crazy nice!!  I don’t always tweet about it, but we go out to eat just the two of us quite often.  I think the two of us get along especially well.  And it’s not a one-way street, Kenta-kun comes over to me a lot too!! As a person, I respect everything about him.   Actually, my history in the entertainment industry also goes back 19 years, and during the Engeki Haikyuu auditions, I was auditioning at the same time as Kenta-kun.  Seeing his performance in person, I was overwhelmed.  I firmly believed, “Kenta-kun has to be Hinata,” I even got goosebumps.  

This is the last question.  What does Engeki Haikyuu mean to you, Kosaka-san? Hmmm, I wonder.  “Page 1 of my life,” maybe.  My life changed so much after landing the Engeki Haikyuu audition.  If I hadn’t met Engeki Haikyuu, I wouldn’t be who I am today.  It’s an important production that’s really made an impact in my life, and I’ll never forget it for as long as I live.  

Miura Kairi as Yamaguchi Tadashi

Miura-san, you’ve been plying Yamaguchi Tadashi ever since the first production.  When the Karasuno cast graduation was announced, how did you feel? Even if I went to work on other productions, it was obvious I had a place to return to, so having that certainty disappear was definitely upsetting.  At the same time, even though I’ve been giving my max for every single tour, I then felt that I now had to work hard to make our best production ever so that at the end of it all, I can graduate with everyone with a smile.  

Right now you’re in the middle of rehearsing for “The Strongest Team.”  Have your feelings changed in any way since the graduation announcement to now? Truthfully I don’t really feel like it’s the end yet....  But I think that’ll start to sink in pretty hard once we start touring and it reaches the second half of the tour.

I often hear people say, “I’m so glad that Yamaguchi Tadashi was Miura-kun.” That makes me so happy!!

In your role as Yamaguchi, what was something you’ve been prioritizing as especially important for playing this character? One thing I was very conscientious of when playing him was to make sure I didn’t stand out.  That’s how he is in the manga too, but as a character he’s not like Hinata Shouyou or Tanaka Ryuunosuke, who are always very energetic and shouting “Yaaay!” or anything like that.  (laughs)  It’s not like I wanted to completely erase his presence since ultimately I am present on that stage, but how could I just naturally avoid standing out while being on-stage?  I was really focused on that.  Then, when the time came for Yamaguchi’s highlight scenes, I became very conscientious of how best to leave an impact.  

When you make sure to have that variation, then you become suddenly become especially visible when the spotlight’s on you. During these three years, I’ve almost gotten lost amongst the cast looking for my position among them, and it became a journey of searching for where I belong.

Obviously you’ve been considerably involved in scenes with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima.  Have you ever felt especially glad that Tsukishima was played by Kosaka-san? The first thing is that we’re the same age. I think it’s because we’re the same age that we could connect to that childhood friends atmosphere between Yamaguchi and Tsukishima.  And then for myself and Ryoutarou both, Engeki Haikyuu was our very first stage work. We were in the same boat of not knowing left from right and I think it was good that we were able to support each other in that.  And then, I think you know this, but our homes are fairly close too so that also reduced the distance between us.  And then...

And then? Because we’re the same age, a sense of rivalry sprung up between us, and I mean that as a good thing.  When Ryoutarou’s in great shape, I end up thinking to myself that I can’t lose.  It’s good motivation.  So yes, I really do feel glad that it was Ryoutarou.

As you’ve said, Engeki Haikyuu is your stage debut.  What’s something that you’ve learned as an actor from this production? Stage is different from filming because the same line can change depending on my condition that day or even based on the audience’s response.  I’ve learned that even though you’re doing the same thing over and over, it’s never actually the same.  It makes me want to do it with great care every time, for every show.

Miura-san, you turned 20 in the middle of the “Karasuno, Revival!” tour back in 2016.  To go from your teens to your twenties is a precious time, and you spent it with this production.  As a person, what’s an area in which you feel you’ve matured and grown? Hmm... Ah, I’ve learned to pay attention to those around me.  I’ve become able to match someone else’s pace, or realize when they’re not feeling well, or when they might be upset, basically I’ve learned to recognize the changes in people.  When I was in my teens I couldn’t do that at all, so being able to do it now is proof that I’ve become an adult, right? (laughs)

And now the last question.  What does Engeki Haikyuu mean to you, Miura-san? Hmm, that’s difficult.  Let me think.  Everyone probably says “family,” right?

Actually nobody’s said that yet. (laughs) Ah, really, no one’s said it yet? (laughs)  Well, maybe it’s more like, “home?”  Let’s go with home!  Engeki Haikyuu is the place where my life as an actor started, and that’s no exaggeration. Even after I graduate, I’ll take with me the experiences I’ve had, and if I could work on anything in the future with these Karasuno cast members again, I think that would be wonderful. I think every production I participate in from here on out will be a sort of repayment to this one.  And that’s what I mean when I say Engeki Haikyuu is my home.  

Shiota Kouhei as Tanaka Ryuunosuke

The graduation was announced this year back in January, how did you feel when you first heard about it? I have experience from the Prince of Tennis Musicals, so for a series of plays like this one, I always knew that there would come an end for me.  We even talked about it as a group, saying, “Going as far as the match against Shiratorizawa would be a good stopping point.”

That’s very true.  Shiota-san, as you approach the fall tour in what will become your “final match,” what are your feelings right now? I feel like everyone, including myself, isn’t really worrying about the graduation.  Our audience probably feels more strongly about it than the actors do, I think.  There’s a lot of instances of fans telling us, “It’s sad that you’ll be graduating, but please do your best!”  And we’re grateful about that, but for us we’re going to proceed like always, just like every tour, to present a marvelous show.  

You’ve been playing Tanaka Ryuunosuke since the very first show.  Was there anything you’ve been continuously prioritizing as especially important for playing this character? Tanaka’s a character that can really move, so I’ve always tried to go around and get in everyone’s faces. Just by moving around, all sorts of relationships bloom, so I’ve always placed a lot of importance on how I react to people and how they react to me.  For example, Daichi-san is a scary senpai, so if I make Tanaka react in a scared way, then Daichi-san appears scary to other people too.  If I want to show off Hinata as this adorable person, then I change Tanaka’s expressions so that it looks like he’s thinking, “How cute!” and then Hinata looks cute to everyone else.  I’ve always paid a lot of attention to how I can react to others so as to bring life to them.

And you’ve been doing that since the first show? No, I don’t think I could pull it off back during the first show.  It was building up all of that experience over all those productions that as an actor I sort of just slipped into doing that.  Tanaka is actually drawn a lot in the manga.  But there are still a lot of sides to Tanaka Ryuunosuke that people don’t see, and there is a lot to him that’s not even in the manga, I think.  If I bring out those parts of him, then I can perform Tanaka Ryuunosuke with more depth, so I was always imagining how I could make the character bigger in a sense.

So does that mean that as you re-read the manga, you expand the content with your thoughts and imaginations?   It’s a given that I have to read and re-read the manga, but actually I tend to do that more with the script.  There’s no art in the script so my imagination has to work a little harder.  If I read the manga and mimic what I see, it just feels like an impersonation, and I can bring a lot more depth to my expressions if I work off my own imagination. There’s a difference.  Lately I’ve been looking forward to working from my imagination instead.  (laughs)

Karasuno has this image of having a lot of ad-lib, and Shiota-san, your ad-libs in particular are a lot of fun.   Thank you very much.  I do all of that ad-lib on-the-spot.  

All of it?! Or rather, there are times when the ad-lib that appears at rehearsals then stays that way for the actual show.  But, even if it came from rehearsals, ad-lib is ad-lib.  (laughs) Sometimes during an actual show an idea will just hit me, and then suddenly I’m doing that instead.  

Do you regularly just think up these fun ideas? I don’t think about it. (laughs) If I work from things I’ve already thought of, I just turn into a comedian working from an act.  I think it’s funny because I don’t think about it beforehand.  

Don’t you get upset when that fails? I don’t mind it.  I have a resilient heart.  (laughs)

Of the 10 Karasuno volleyball players, who’s the one that’s changed the most from your first impression of them? I think Yuuto.  Yuuto joined on from “Summer of Evolution” onward, but at first he was really really quiet.  When we first met, he was so nervous he was frozen stiff, and no matter what anyone said to him, he’d only reply with, “Yes.”  I thought that was all he could say.  (laughs)  But now we have a relationship where we can say anything to each other.

Lastly.  What does Engeki Haikyuu mean to you, Shiota-san? That’s a tough question.  Hmmm.  “A blessed place,” I think.  The manga, the cast, the audience, the staff, we’re surrounded by wonderful people, who let us work freely all the things we want to do and try.  I really do think that we as a company have been blessed.   .......no, wait a second.

Waiting! Actually, let me change it to “A chemical reaction.”  The cast is full of individuals with strong personalities, and when they clash, things go BOOM, but it’s thanks to that that the result is so good.  (laughs)  That’s why I’m going with “A chemical reaction.”  

Fuchino Yuuto as Nishinoya Yuu

When the Karasuno cast graduation was announced, what were your thoughts? I felt like it was the right timing for a graduation given the climax that’s in the story.  There might also have been a part of me that was already resigned to it.  I’m trying not to think about the graduation, right now I don’t have any sad feelings, and I’m really looking forward to just starting our tour.  I’m excited to see what kind of show we’ll all make together.

Like, working to leave behind something legendary? That’s the spirit of it, yes.  (laughs)

Fuchino-san, you joined the cast in September of 2017 for “Summer of Evolution.” I did.  With each and every show, I think that we really make the most of our time from what we do at rehearsals.  There are those on the cast who have been doing this for three years since the first production, and I think that for them there must be all kinds of emotions. But it’s not like I’m losing to that. I also want to push toward the end with everything I have and in that sense, my feelings are exactly the same as those who’ve been here from the beginning.

What’s something that you consider especially important for playing Nishinoya Yuu?   I think our captain, Sawamura Daichi, is the team’s mental support, but Nishinoya’s role is to fling encouraging words at everyone.  As someone who inspires them, he’s another point of mental support for Karasuno, I think. He’s small but he’s manlier than anyone, and I was always trying to be the Karasuno volleyball team’s foundation.

How does that compare to your actual personality? Well I’m about as noisy as Nishinoya. But I’m not the type to give off an imposing attitude.  (laughs)

Since joining Engeki Haikyuu, what’s an area where you feel as though you’ve improved as an actor? I think this show is extremely unique in how it’s made.  Normally, the actors move however the directors tell them to, but in Engeki Haikyuu, the director, Worry-san, is always actively adapting the opinions of the actors.  As fellow performers we pay attention to one another, and the actors and the director discuss everything as equals.  And as everyone puts forth their own ideas and opinions, we create the show with everyone together.

And you give ideas as well, Fuchino-san? Because we want to really hide that I can’t move as well, I’ll give ideas for how I can move in certain scenes while everyone else is moving another way.  I’ve really learned how to be flexibly creative here.

Is there anything in particular that you’ve started doing because of Engeki Haikyuu? Well the level of exercise in this show isn’t normal at all, don’t you think?  I’ve started drinking protein.  There’s... probably been some results.  (laughs) And, this veers off-topic a little bit, but after being in Engeki Haikyuu, I’ve discovered something.

Which is? When I get nervous, I want to go to the bathroom.  Even if I went 10 minutes before opening, I’ll want to go again 3 minutes before it starts. But since there’s no time and I can’t go, I’ll just go out on-stage as is.  And then as time goes on, I start to feel better and don’t have to go anymore.  I’d think to myself, why is that?  And it’s because I just let it all out as sweat.  That’s the degree of how much we run around on that stage.  I just wanted to say that.  (laughs)

Is there anyone on Karasuno who’s changed from your first impression of them? Kosaka Ryoutarou.  At first, I thought he looked quiet.  But then...  well, Ryoutarou started talking to me first, so then I thought that maybe he’s quiet but friendly.  But then I realized he’s just the usual noisy and friendly.  (laughs)

And now the last question.  What does Engeki Haikyuu mean to you, Fuchino-san? .......”Club activities,” I think. Stage-plays are originally stories, so you’d think that it wouldn’t surpass the amount of sweat and tears spent as on actual sports.  But Engeki Haikyuu is as... moving, maybe, as an actual sports match, so it feels like being in an actual sports club.  Like in high school baseball, if you lose you’re extremely frustrated, and the players and everyone else will cry, and even the people cheering for them will shed tears.  Engeki Haikyuu feels exactly like that, and when you lose a match you’re actually truly sad, and when you win, you’re so happy you could die.  

Even though you know it’s all an act? Exactly.  It feels to us like we’re playing a real match.  And that’s why my answer is “club activities.”  

Kawahara Kazuma as Ennoshita Chikara

Kawahara-san, you’ve been playing Ennoshita Chikara since the very first show in 2015.  When your graduation was announced, what were your thoughts? This is a show that everyone made together these past three years, so at first I was overwhelmed by probably sadness. After that, gratitude and then various other feelings started jumbling all together.  Physically, it’s definitely hard, but in the world of Engeki, we’ve all been allowed to taste the youth of student life again.  I’m just really full of gratitude.  

As you face rehearsals, what are your emotions now? The moment I let my mind wander and take a breath, the sadness creeps in, but right now I really can’t talk about that! That’s the feeling that’s stronger. The work of creating even one show has a lot of difficulties, and Engeki Haikyuu in particular just isn’t like other conventional 2.5D shows, since it was always our goal to create something totally new.   That’s why instead of focusing on the graduation, we’re spending our days thinking more about how we’re going to make our last show interesting, and how we’re going to convey all of our ideas to the audience.  

You want to finish the race with no regrets. It’s the grand sum of everything our team can do, our final challenge.  This isn’t restricted to 2.5D stage works, it’s true of any work that gets turned into a series, but laying the initial foundations is really hard.  The work of going from 0 to 1 is so difficult.  That’s why it’s a point of pride for Engeki Haikyuu that we have so many actors in our generation with such creative minds, who are continuously throwing out ideas.

What’s something that you consider especially important for playing Ennoshita Chikara? Among fans of the manga, I do think there are a lot of people who love Ennoshita Chikara, and my main thought was that I didn’t want to betray those people.  But when it comes to Ennoshita Chikara, he’s not often drawn in scenes. In the manga, there might be a scene where he only appears in three panels, but he has to provide the explanations, and in those moments his character is essentially a blur.  For the anime or for manga panels, you can essentially erase the existence of someone by just not having them in the shot, but in the case of live theater, I’m actually always on that stage.  So it was difficult to come up with a performance that emphasized non-existence.  

Suga-san had written about you in a blog-entry once, calling you the “unsung hero” of Engeki Haikyuu.   That made me really happy. Back during our very first show, I had tried to be exactly as his namesake, “縁の下の力持ち*,” and that’s how I tried to play him.  I think there are fans of the manga who must have varying opinions of him, but for me personally, I’ve now come to play him on-stage with the idea that I have to do everything I can to live atop that stage too.  

*Ennoshita Chikara’s name (縁下力) comes straight from the expression (“縁の下の力持ち” en no shita no chikara mochi), which refers to a person who works without expecting credit, does thankless tasks, the “unsung hero.”  

What does Engeki Haikyuu mean to you, Kawahara-san? Ennoshita and I have a lot of similarities, and we even have the same birthday, so I felt like it was fate.  There was a time when I had hit a wall* as an actor, and I had thought to bet my career as an actor on this production, as a challenge. So to me, this production became a turning point.  And it’s difficult for me to summarize all of that into a single word or phrase.  It’s my “home,” but at the end of our autumn tour, we’ll all have to spread our wings and fly off to new places.  And when we do that, we’ll lose that “home.”

*You can read this particular post I made back in June (x) where Kazuma had admitted to us during the Start of the Giant tour that just before auditioning for Engeki Haikyuu, he’d seriously considered quitting as an actor.

That’s very true... I could even call it my “soulmate,” and it’s a production in which I’ve been able to meet so many wonderful actors in my generation, I think it would be great if it could become a new “starting point.”  I’d like to make this my new starting point, then take my next step onward.

Tanaka Keita as Sawamura Daichi

Tanaka-san, you actually appeared in the first production, then left, then came back to the production with “Start of the Giant.”  Please tell us how you felt when it was decided you’d be returning to the cast. After the first show, I switched with Akisawa-kun.  Although I was apart from the production itself, I was still privately very close to everyone, and with every show onward, I’d go to see them.  That’s why even though I was separate from the troupe, I still felt like I was a part of them and cheered them on as such.  Akisawa-kun carefully passed the part of Sawamura Daichi to me, and I really wanted to make sure I made a smooth transition from everything he’d done to play the next Sawamura Daichi.  

Tanaka-san, you’re the first person to return to the Engeki Haikyuu cast like this. We’d changed the cast, but to return to a show like this is a pattern you don’t really see.  It’s a unique case, but I think of Sawamura Daichi as someone that Akisawa-kun and I created together, so to all of the audience that comes to see us from “Start of the Giant” onward, I wanted them to feel as though “Akisawa-kun’s heart remained.”  That would’ve made me happy, so I played the part while keeping that in mind.  

A role that you created together with Akisawa-san.  That’s a wonderful story. Actually, before the “Start of the Giant” tour, I reached out to him, and Akisawa-kun and I met up just the two of us.  We talked about things like, all the things he was feeling while playing Sawamura Daichi, and it was thanks to that conversation that I felt like I could take on the show. It was really great.  That’s why I feel really strongly that the two of us stand on that stage together.

When the cast and staff and audience called out to you with, “Welcome back,” how did you feel? At rehearsals, the directory Worry-san was the first to say that, then when the audience said it to me, I was overwhelmed with the feeling that I’d returned home.  We do get to say some things during curtain calls when it comes to theater, and I could really feel the love from the audience, so I was really very happy.

Were you at all nervous about coming back? Actually... I was really nervous.  Everyone had been leveling up all this time, so I was nervous about the technical side of things, and because there were surely people in the audience who’d only ever known Akisawa-kun’s Sawamura Daichi, I was nervous as to whether or not they’d accept me.  But after the curtain went up on opening day and we received all those cheers and applause, all of my worries just instantly blew away.  

How was it when you watched Engeki Haikyuu as an outsider? I mostly thought, “That’s sooo fun.” (laughs) As one of the audience, I clapped and cheered together with them and sent my support that way.  As a cast member, some scenes are so difficult that I almost couldn’t enjoy them.  But as one of the audience, I could just get pulled into the story and I could just simply enjoy everything.  It was a really fresh experience.  

This year in January, it was announced that everyone on the Karasuno cast would graduate. Graduation might have come to some of us separately, but ever since our first tour I always knew it would happen.  For me, “Start of the Giant” is part one of that, then the next show “The Strongest Team” is part two.  Right now my main thoughts are to making the autumn tour a success.  It’s not the time to get sentimental yet.  

And lastly, what does Engeki Haikyuu mean to you, Tanaka-san? “Youth.”  Back during the first tour, the same question appeared in the behind-the-scenes on the DVD, and I’d answered the same way back then, because it’s definitely “youth.”  This group itself is the definition of youth.  Volleyball is the story of a team.  Even at rehearsals, we say “Good morning” as a group and gather together, and when it’s time to go home and someone says, “Let’s go out to eat with everyone together,” and we take that detour, that’s also youth.  When we’re acting, that’s also youth, and Engeki Haikyuu’s source for that overwhelming level of passion comes from that “youth.”  

When you were a student, did you do any sports? I played volleyball for middle school and high school, and I was the same as Sawamura, I was the captain, so I know the feeling really well.  I feel like I’m able to return to those times.  For me, Engeki Haikyuu is my second shot at youth. 

 Tanaka Naoki as Sugawara Koushi

Back when the Karasuno cast graduation was announced in January, how did you feel? My honest-to-goodness feelings.... On November 27th 2017, it was announced that I would play the role of Sugawara Koushi in “Start of the Giant,” but rehearsals for that didn’t start until March of 2018.  So when the graduation was announced in January, my first thought was, “But I still haven’t even met anyone on the cast?!”  It basically felt like I’d been made to graduate before I’d even enrolled. (laughs)  So for me, rather than feeling sad, I had much stronger feelings about wanting to just hurry up and start rehearsals and enter the Engeki Haikyuu world already.  

Had you gone to see Engeki Haikyuu before? Yes.  I love the manga, and I’d gone to see the show before, so I was really excited when it was announced that I’d be a member of the cast too.  So right now I’m really not getting sentimental about graduation.  

Not even a little? I’m joining the Karasuno volleyball team now, so the only thing I feel is that I want to make an amazing show and leave my name in Engeki history!  Probably once the autumn tour starts and the actual end of it all comes creeping close, I’ll maybe start to feel sad....

It’ll be a year dedicated to Engeki Haikyuu then? One year might be a short time, but I’ve been able to make some very deep connections with everyone, so it’s been a very full year. I very strongly feel that I want to treasure every single day I spend with everyone so that I won’t regret anything.

Tanaka-san, you play Sugawara Koushi, who supports the captain as vice captain, and watches over the team like a maternal figure. What do you consider especially important in playing this character? This is a production that’s physically as hard as being part of a real team, so even outside of the play itself, I’ve gotten used to observing everyone’s condition and their expressions and calling out to them like, “Can you keep going?  Yeah you can, go!” I watch my surroundings excessively, and there are times when I hang back a step, but we all share a sense that we’ll absolutely never back down from things we feel we can’t back down from.  That’s something we all take very seriously.   I try to be encouraging and kind, to try to be a mom and an older brother.  I’ve constructed my Sugawara so that he can take on all sorts of positions.  

During scenes with acrobatics or dance, my eyes are completely drawn to you.  Did you pick some kind of specialty originally like stage combat, or stunts, or jazz dance or hip hop? The first time I stood on-stage was back in middle school, and it was back then that I first thought I wanted to be able to express more with my body.  So I started dance lessons, acrobat lessons, stage combat, and fencing.  I’ve been in a lot of plays with Japanese history as the subject so I’ve practiced a lot with katana, spears, and even fighting with short swords.

That’s such a wide variety!! I really want it to look good, so the result is that I try my hand at all sorts of different things.  (laugh)  But it’s thanks to that that I’ve become able to pull out that kind of variety.  When I was cast for Engeki Haikyuu, I’d go to acrobatics practice with Kageyama Tatsuya-kun and in “Start of the Giant” we did a lot of sideways tumbling.  

During the final show curtain call messages, Tomimori Justin-san would usually make an unreasonable request of Sugawara, and he’s transferred that from the previous Sugawara, Ino-Hiroki-san to you.  And you... responded.  (laughs) He made sure to pass that onto me, yeah. (laughs)  Here, the power of ad-lib is pretty strong, I think.  During rehearsals, even for scenes that had nothing to do with me, they’d go, “I kind of wanna see Sugawara try that,” and they’d throw it my way.  This is a group of people that chases after humor continuously.  But when we accept each other’s ideas like, “Oh that’s good!” I think everyone’s morale goes up.  

And this is the last question.  What does Engeki Haikyuu mean to you, Tanaka-san? This is like a riddle, right?  I actually thought of something before I came.

Please go ahead! What is something that Engeki Haikyuu and “all of us tired after rehearsals” have in common?  

What? We hit the spa...ike!*

*I hate puns and I hate translating puns and it doesn’t work like 98% of the time, but I tried.  Naoki’s answer is 「スパ行く」su-pa-i-ku. Read as one word, it reads “spike” and read as two words (supa iku), it’s “go to the spa.”  In English you can “hit the spa” and “hit a spike” so I wrangled up the translation above.  

That’s so good!! Thank you very much.  (laughs)  I tied together “hitting the spa” with the “spikes” we hit in volleyball.  During the regional tours for “Start of the Giant,” one of the hotels we stayed at had a large public bath and Kouhei-san invited me, “Naoki, let’s take a bath.”  And in that huge hotel bath, the two of us just submerged ourselves.  We alternated between the hot bath, the cold bath, back to the hot bath and just refreshed our bodies.  I think we’ll be going even more during the fall tour.  (laughs)  

Tomimori Justin as Azumane Asahi

Tomimori-san, you’ve been playing Azumane Asahi since the first tour.  When the cast graduation announcement was made, how did you feel? Of course I felt sad, but I always knew that the end would come eventually, so I also thought that it was about time for our graduation.  This place has always made me feel my best.  Like I could relive my high school days all over again.

So it feels like graduating high school again? It’s my second high school graduation then. (laughs)  There’s a part of me that wants to stay here longer, but I’m also looking forward to seeing how everyone will grow away from here and maybe seeing that progress a few years from now at a gathering.  

In the spring there was “Start of the Giant,” and now you’re preparing for “The Strongest Team” which is very close at hand.  Do you feel any different? Right now I’m focused on this production and I want to finish it out with everything I have.  And I don’t think I’m the only one who feels that way. Everyone is really brimming with motivation and we all have the same thought: “Let’s make something great with this show!”

You’ve played Azumane Asahi for three years.  Having been steeped in this role for so long, do you ever feel like you can’t break away from him? In the course of one year, I spend over half of it being Azumane, and we spend a lot of time in rehearsals too.  I didn’t notice it myself, but close friends of mine would say things like that to me.  “Your behavior right now is a lot like Azumane.”  Or “That was Azumane speaking.”  At first I didn’t think we were alike, but since people say things like that to me, that means now I’ve become more like him.

When it comes to playing Azumane Asahi, what do you consider important for his character? At the time that I entered 2.5D productions, I was very conscientious of my position as an actor but less so about my character itself.  Instead of getting close to my character, I was more concerned with my role within Karasuno so that the team would look better.  The result was that I became more like Azumane by connecting with that dependable side of him.

Among the Karasuno cast members who’ve spent the past three years with you, who’s changed the most compared to your first impression of them? We’ve had some cast changes too but... it would probably be Suga Kenta.  To be the cast leader at such a young age, at first he had a certain aura where it felt like he’d have to really pull everyone along.  But as the shows have gone on, Kenta either understood that he could relax a little or just decided to be more open and natural. (laughs)  He’s really sharp when it comes to his acting sense, and as we’ve kept doing this his presence has only grown, so I can only think that he’s truly amazing.  Especially lately, I keep thinking how terrific he is.  

It’s also now become a tradition for Azumane to make a ridiculous request of Sugawara at the final show curtain call messages... It somehow became standard, yeah. (laughs)

And Tanaka Naoki-san has now inherited that from Ino Hiroki-san. Yep, yep.  (laughs)  No really, Naoki’s the best.  I wasn’t expecting him to go that far.  (laughs) I look forward to it every time, so I’d like it if we could keep doing it to the very end.  

What does Engeki Haikyuu mean to you, Tomimori-san? “Youth.”  I said earlier how it feels like my second chance at school life, but it really does feel like I’ve returned to my high school years.

Are you singing the praises of youth once again? Yeah. (laughs)  We all get along so well.  But it’s not just that, sometimes during rehearsals we get heated and our opinions might clash, but our relationships get even deeper because of those conflicts, and then our teamwork gets even better.  This will be the culmination of everything the Karasuno cast has to give, and I want to really show that off.  

===========

Translated by @nimbus-cloud Please do not repost my translations

If you appreciate the work I do for this blog and want to support my translation efforts, please consider donating a ko-fi!  (x)

The original interview can be read online here: (x)

[icarus-imagines]

Lance McClain X Reader

Hello! Can I have an Lance (From Voltron) X Reader please?

I am terribly sorry if this is sad and evokes some dark themes. If anybody wishes for a happy ending just send in a request for a Part 2 and I will be sure to give the Readers something happier and much fluffier. A bittersweet ending I will thoroughly enjoy writing.

I was more than merely influenced for writing such a depressing story due to listening to Sam Smith on repeat. Beautiful and lovely, but quite sad. It was a result I felt happy with though and hope everybody enjoys it.

-Mod Icarus ଘ(੭ºัᴗºั)━☆ﾟ

Word Count: 2,413

Category: Voltron

~Blue Boy~

Something was wrong.

As of current you were, in most people's words, safe. Located in a secure position away from the middle of the battle commencing it may be by pure luck nobody had yet to spot you. Not too far away though you could hear the loud battle cries of both your treasured teammates and the relentless Galra.

Body leaning against a cement wall your hand clutched your shoulder that was covered with armor similar to what the traditional paladins of the lions wore. Once a shiny and gleaming (F/c) suit, it was now morphed into something dirty and marred. Clinks and dents were spotted here and there. A bit of blood was on the leg, half of it dry and crusted, but the most sickening thing about that fact was that the blood was not yours.

Trained by the Altean palace princess Allura ruled over you were able to grow stronger in a shorter amount of time than expected. You never thought you would have been able to become a professional with wielding a sword. But here you were a few or so months later a (F/c) sword tightly held in your grasp as you took down foreign aliens.

Rising a sluggish hand to your shoulder you grabbed it tightly with a shaky inhale. It ached with every sharp movement you made and for a second you wondered if it had become dislocated in the heat of war. You pleaded desperately for it not to be true. A dislocated shoulder during something like this would be horribly bad luck. Hopefully, everything would end so you could recover back in the safe confines of the palace.

Sidestepping it took only a few seconds to become one with the battle. Seemingly dragging on you felt as if you were going to cry. Your shoulder was sending hot white flashed to appear across your vision when you swung at just the right yet wrong angle. Even so, you pushed onwards, determined to get this over with and finally be worry-free again.

Just when everything looked as if it was beginning to dissipate a pang of hurt sliced through your heart. But the thing about it was that you were alone, without an opposing battle partner. Everything was perfectly fine from what you could tell.

Allura and Coran were faring well.

Shiro and Keith were finishing off the last few remaining stragglers who dared fight more.

Hunk and Pidge were tending to the wounded of this alien planet's natives.

And last but not least Lance was-

Lance.

Where was Lance!?

Fear almost made bile rise from the depths of your stomach to sting in the deep backside of your throat, but you swallowed it up quickly. Adrenaline was immediately born with your deep thoughts. Sneaking their way into your bloodstream your legs caught up with your much more frightened mind. Moving of their own accord you dragged forward with no true destination. All you knew is you had to find Lance no matter what. Even if he was safe. Laughing at his own jokes while flirting with some beautiful alien species from this planet you could not warrant the chance of him being lost.

What if he was captured. Kidnapped and taken away from you? Was it possible he was slain? Struck down by an enemies sharp weapon?

No.

Lance was stronger than that.

He was much stronger than he ever gave credit for. The wielder of a paladin bayard belonging to the blue lion that transformed into an energy assault rifle, you were sure he could hold his own in a fight. You had witnessed it many times before so why out of all those times would he suddenly be taken down? Every scenario that filtered through your mind could not create one where Lance had been taken down. It just seemed too bizarre. Too impossible.

Yes, he had been tossed around his fair share of times but so had everybody else. Near death experiences were an end result everybody knew was more than possible, yet you did not think this way. Your background was unique, just like theirs. Death could be an option but the hardships in your lied denied you to ever think of such a thing.

Death is not an option.

Lance is not dead.

With those thoughts on your mind, you frantically ran to every place you last saw lance. Through the dense alien jungles, you carried on with quick footsteps. Once you had even tripped, yet even when your knee had been hit wrong and sent a shocked pain to the area you stood up with only a muffled groan from the inside of your mouth. The pain you were experiencing would have to wait to be felt. For all, you felt right now was fear, anticipation, and a tug of fright.

It was not until you came upon a body leaning against a tree did tears begin to fill the top brim of your waterline in your eye.

Lance.

He is alive.

"Lance, you goofball," you managed to huff out when you lowered yourself down onto your knees, ignoring the dull pain, to get closer to him. "Where have you been? I have been so worried. I..."

(E/c) eyes scanned his body, breath becoming rigid and anxious in barely a few seconds. His once slick blue paladin armor was splattered with blood. From where you view him it looked as if he was in the red lion's paladin armor instead of the blue lions.

His head was hanging too low for comfort, ends of his hair drenched in blood, a crimson human fluid. It was also dripping from his nose and mouth, curving over his slim lips and chin. More camouflaged over his black covered hands. It was hard to tell what you were truly looking at. With so much blood you couldn't tell if it was coming from his own body or if it was just a tough opponent who had not stopped until they bled out when fighting.

Your voice was shaky as a hand slipped up to cup his cheek, raising his head to look at you, the helmet already taken off and left on the grassy floor of the forest. The pain in your shoulder was persistent but your worry was far greater than any of it. Unfortunately, his eyelids were closed you came to discover when you had risen him up. Head heavy in the palm of your hand you realized you are holding the world in your hand

He is your whole world.

"Lance, please... please tell me this is not your blood. This can't possibly be yours, can it?" You asked fruitlessly. The head in your hands gave no sign of any movement to any of your talking. "Lance..."

After a few more calls of his name and small shakes on his shoulder, Lance finally cracked open his eyes like there were hundred-pound weights dragging them down. Still heavily placed in your hands he blinked open his eyes. Black eyelashes fluttered open slowly, the iris inside blown but progressively shrinking from the radiating suns strong light.

"Y/n..." His voice makes your heart quiver in its bony cage of ribs. It sounds so broken and hoarse It must be hard for him to speak but he tries to do so anyway. "Glad...I am glad...to see you..."

You shush him softly as more blood dribbles out of his mouth from his actions. "Don't speak, you need to conserve your energy."

Your voice may be soft and ever so gentle, but inside an earthquake is splitting open. In the earth of it, all your fears and worries are conjoining and rising out. Questions such as 'How could I let this happen?' and 'It's my fault.'

Taking off your helmet carefully, both your hands begin to move to the back of his head, fingers curling into the locks of short, dark brown hair you adored so much. You lean close, so close that when you hug him you swear you can hear everything around you. His head rests in your chest, nestled there like a safe haven. You can hear his soft, almost labored breathing as he tries to fill his lungs the best he can. Taking in as much oxygen before he dispels it in a shaky exhale of breath. His skin is hot, beating hotly with a pulse that misses a few counts here and there.

He smells of blood, The sickly metallic flavor of it clings to your taste buds even when your mouth is clamped shut. Wetness springs from your tear ducts and rolls down your cheeks as the thoughts inside your head overflow.

He shouldn't smell of blood. He shouldn't be bleeding out. He shouldn't be fighting for every breath he takes. He shouldn't be fighting the need to succumb to death's embrace.

Heshouldn'tHeshouldn'tHeshouldn'tHeshouldn'tHe'shouldn'tHeshou-

"Thank you...for...for staying here with me," he manages to mumble out, his breath warm against the open skin of your neck. "To think....I...I never got to tell you..."

You separate from him, his head still in your hands as it leans back a bit so he can look up at you with no trouble or moving on his part.

"Tell me?" You ask confused, a tear dripping down your cheek. "Tell me what?"

His smile targets towards you feel like sunshine on your (S/c) flesh. A bright shining aura of radiating heat. But his expression is overall a vision of pure solemn. Dark blue eyes, like the deep oceans of Earth, spring up like a sparkling geyser with water. Tears of his own fall down his face in perfect lines. He looked beautiful right there. Crying. It may have been thought of as a cruel thought, but he was an angel. An angel was crying in front of you. Emotions bubbling up and exploding like water erosion shapeshifting the Earth's soil to create something new and more extraordinary than before.

"I love you."

His hand comes up to let his tanned fingertips touch your cheekbone. With a slow thumb, he brushes away a stray tear in his way. His movements up to now have all been slow. A sluggish style similar to that of an Earth animal called a sloth. But suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, they are sharp.

Surging forward faster than you are able to react to he closes the gap between your faces. Warm lips meet yours in a feverish sense of hurry and apparent urgency. It is delectably warm, that flesh against your own in a waltzing dance. If his lips were food you were sure he would be something akin to blueberries.

His other unoccupied arm wraps around your body to grasp tightly at a shoulder. It stays there secure and unyielding in its position. You feel safe. Safer than you have ever been in your entire life. You want to stay here. Stay this way forever, even if it may seem like an impossible thing.

This blue boy was full of love and affection beyond measure underneath the surface.

In a slow-motion like state of deliriousness, Lance parts away from you far too soon for your liking. Before you can protest he look up at you and for a second he smiles. Lips quivering in the effort to rise in the process before his eyes closed shut and lock away his oceanic orbs of crystal light. Heartbreaking into a million pieces you only stay stock still as his weight leans forward and slumps against your chest.

The arm that had once held you safe in this warm engulfing hug let's go without notice. It slumps down, laying perfectly still with its palm up in the green grasses of the jungle floor. You can hear your heart pounding just like the slam that seemed to come when the arm had fallen. Blood is pulsing in your ears, a headache forming quickly from the noise. The bang and ricochet in your skull, all your bones simultaneously panging with hurt from the foreign impacts.

His body is still. So strangely still like a statue against your own that you almost forget to breathe, to function correctly. He is heavy, heavier than anybody had ever been when leaning leisurely against you. It is like the body, in its one way, is telling you of its burden. That life has left the inside of the body it once filled.

This is death.

"Lance, come on your heavy," you laugh bitterly, the sound rough on your tongue when you try to deny the fact he may actually not be with you anymore. "Lance, if you are sleeping you have to...You have to wake up."

Your hands take hold of him so he can lean into them as you move away to peer at his face. He looks to be in a deep peaceful but you know better.

"Lance...please! You can't leave me! Not right when I know how you feel! Not when I-" Your sobs elevate as you spring forward to nuzzle into his neck in an effort to keep him here with you. His once warm skin is quickly growing a deadly cold, but you care not to think of it at the moment.

"Not when I feel the same way..."

The blue boy with oceans for eyes and seas for blood in his veins is gone.

The blue boy with his flirtation and jokester ways is gone.

The blue boy who you had discovered shared your feelings is gone.

"I love you, Lance. I love you so much. So much Lance. I love you so much."

I love you...my blue boy...

[storyknitter]

The Old Guard (7/7)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Hey, look everybody! It’s finally done! \o/ Many thanks again to @andveryginger for making sure that it doesn’t suck (any glaring mistakes are mine, because I can’t leave well enough alone and keep poking at paragraphs that I don’t like).

“Theron, thank you for arriving so quickly.” Lana glanced up at him as he entered the War Room.

“You said it was important,” the spy shrugged, “and Beywan didn’t mind tabling our discussion. What’s up?”

“You’re to report to the Commander immediately, in your quarters.” The Sith stood stiffly at rest, hands clasped behind her back.

“Did she say what this was about?” Theron asked, somehow managing to keep his expression and voice neutral, even as his mind raced through what felt like hundreds of different possibilities. His stomach flopped and his heart stuttered as both anxiety and hope settled into his chest.

“I informed Vassanna that you wished to speak with her.”

“Wait, what? Lana, why the hells would you do that?” Theron hissed and ran a hand roughly through his hair as he scowled at the blonde. She confused him by answering with a small, sad smile.

“Because it’s true. And because you two need to sit down and talk to each other, like the mature adults that you both pretend to be.” Shrugging slightly, Lana continued, “And this is all that I can do to help you: force your hand and make you actually sit in the same room together with nowhere else to be until your discussion is finished. The rest is up to you.”

Theron stared incredulously at the Sith for a moment, her words taking time to sink in.

“Well, go on. ‘Time and tide’ and all that,” she said, waving him off with a hint of a smirk.

Sanna sat stiffly on the couch with her hands folded together in her lap, Jedi Mask firmly in place, and waited until the door closed behind Theron to speak.

“Lana said you wanted to talk to me.” Her voice was flat and distant; the optimism he’d felt upon entering the room began to fade, though he pressed on.

“I do.” He sat on the opposite couch, taking a deep breath. “I want-- no, I need to explain.”

“You’ve already explained,” she said tersely, standing to leave and smoothing the front of her shirt to cover the shaking of her hands. “On more than one occasion, in fact. I don’t have time to hear the same story again.”

“That’s funny -- Lana mentioned that your schedule’s clear,” Theron said with a raised eyebrow and a wry twist to his lips. Vassanna glared at him as she took a step towards the door. “No, wait,” he pleaded as he stood and grasped her elbow, meeting her hard gaze with a sigh. “Hear me out, just this once.”

She tugged out of his grip, bristling as she stabbed her finger at him. “How can you expect me to listen to anything you have to say to me?”

Theron caught her hand and pulled her towards him, knocking her off balance in more ways than one, and rested her palm flat on his chest. He covered her bare hand with his, holding it in place over his heart. “Please, Sanna...” Closing his eyes, he lowered the mental shields he had been trained since childhood to keep around himself. “Believe me.”

Vassanna wrenched her hand from beneath his, recoiling as though his touch had seared her skin. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to block out the distorted emotions she could sense from him, but it was near impossible: regret, sorrow, fear, frustration... and love. So much love.

She shook her head in an attempt to clear it and tried to ignore his feelings -- and her own.

“It doesn’t work like that, Theron. The Force, the bond we--” The Jedi’s lips pursed as she cut herself off, taking a deep breath. “They’re not lie detectors,” she huffed.

Resting her fisted hands on her hips, Sanna shook her head and muttered, “I should have known better; you’re a kriffing spy. How stupid am I for believing you, for thinking you’d be honest with me?”

“Sanna--”

“Where did the lies stop, Theron?” she interrupted, pacing as every pent-up question she’d had since that day on Umbara tried to claw its way out of her throat at once. “Oh stars, where did they start? Was everything you said to me a lie?”

“No, I swear. I--”

“What did I do?” She was shaking and shouting at him, her Jedi control all but gone. “You said that you didn’t expect me to understand. Well, why not? Make me understand! Why did you do this? And why couldn’t you trust me?” Theron’s brows knitted together in confusion: he hadn’t expected Sanna to take issue with the amount of faith he had placed in her.

“Of course I trust you, Sanna; I have since I recruited you for the attack on Korriban. Not to mention that I’ve trusted you with my life since Manaan.” Taking a leap of faith, he said, “I love you.”

His confession wasn’t appreciated by the Mirialan -- she looked offended rather than moved by his declaration, arms crossed and a frown on her face.

“Oh, so you’ll trust me with your heart, but not with kriffing intel, not with this op? You should have brought me in on this sooner; why didn’t you?”

Memories assaulted him: the pity in Marcus’s eyes after Theron discovered that Marr’s fleet had been destroyed, Lorman’s ill-disguised glee over the wreck of Acina’s shuttle, the dozens of other close calls that he and Sanna had over their time together. Finally, a vision of what the Order of Zildrog had planned for her flashed before his eyes and he snapped.

“I was trying to protect you, dammit!”

“I didn’t need your protection, Theron, I needed you. And in case you've forgotten, I was a kriffing Jedi Battlemaster at one point; I can defend myself,” she snarled and he sighed, deflated.

“I know you can, but--”

“No, don’t you dare give me that line again about watching my back -- you can’t watch my back when you’re not here,” she countered with narrowed eyes, anger and contempt dripping from her words. “And leaving me in the dark? Tell me, how does that help me or protect me? How am I supposed to be an effective leader and keep my people safe without all the relevant information? This is hard enough as it is without you making me look like a fool!”

Theron’s hands went to his hips and he frowned, exasperated, and took a small amount of satisfaction in the surprise that flitted across her features with his next words.

“You’re right, okay? You’re right, I should have talked to you. I didn't tell you because-- because I was afraid,” he said, shoulders slumping. “If the Order knew that you were aware of what was going on, they would have moved forward with their plans. If they'd done that before I could stop them or undermine them, then the galaxy would have burned: Coruscant, Dromund Kaas, Zakuul -- all of it.”

Theron’s answer seemed to placate her slightly; Sanna crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He sighed and despite his best efforts, despair seeped into his next words.

"I know you, Sanna," he continued. He gave her a small, but infinitely sad smile. "You'd have willingly walked into -- you would have sacrificed your --" He broke off, swallowing hard, unable to even utter the words and he ran his hand along his jaw. "I would have lost you. Again. I... can't do that. Couldn't do that. So I couldn't let you talk me out of it."

“Well, you’re damned right that I’d have tried to talk you out of it. Going off alone was a bad idea, and dangerous as hells. You could have died!” Vassanna shouted, hands fisted at her sides and blinking back tears.

“If I hadn’t gone, you would have.” Heartbreak was clear on Theron's face and in his voice, but she was having none of it.

“How dare you,” she hissed, eyes flashing. “How dare you decide that your life was worth tossing away in exchange for mine. That’s not how this was supposed to work -- we were supposed to be a team.” Both were painfully aware that this was far from the first time they’d had this argument, though it was usually in reverse. Staring each other down for a long moment, Sanna turned away first, her head bowed.

“You said such horrible things to me.” Her sad, defeated tone shattered the remaining shards of his heart.

“I know,” he said in the soft voice he only used with her, “and I’m so sorry.” Theron reached for Vassanna’s hand, but she pulled back from him yet again. Disappointment filled his chest and he pushed it away. She’s still here and we’re actually talking, so maybe things between us are still salvageable after all, he mused, and the thought heartened him.

“Please, please understand, Sanna. The Order was embedded in the Alliance far deeper than any of us thought at the beginning -- they had people everywhere, and for a long time.

“I tried to leave you as many breadcrumbs as I could, as many hints as possible without tipping them off... even after you’d commed me. What I still can't figure out is how the hells you not only found, but sliced my new comm frequency from across the galaxy. That was incredible,” he said, admiration clear in his tone.

Sanna looked down at his words, lips pursed as her tears finally overflowed and she dashed them away angrily. It took every bit of restraint that Theron had to keep from reaching out to comfort her; she had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want any physical contact with him.

“They were observing me then, during our call,” Theron said quietly. “I had to do something to get you off the comm, to make the Order think that I wasn’t compromised. If it looked like I was, well... no one keeps a compromised agent around for long, Sanna. I had to lie to you make them think that I was truly done with the Alliance, with you... and hells, it hurt.”

Vassanna’s head snapped up and she stared at him, incredulous, lip curling into a sneer, twisting her face. “It hurt you? How can you even-- What do you think I--” The sob she was trying so hard to contain attempted to break free with a deep gasp. “You told me that my worst nightmares were real, Theron! You broke--” Vassanna's mouth snapped shut and she crossed her arms over her chest again. His stomach sank as anger and grief transformed her face into a bitter caricature of the gentle woman he’d known for years.

If Theron had believed that his intuition was nudging and prodding at him before, then every instinct he had was screaming at him now. Frustration swept through him; something was very wrong and on the tip of his tongue, but he still couldn’t name it.

His mind dragged him back to Copero, standing in the shuttle next to Valss and prepping to leave; after she'd made that terrible train pun, Sanna had tried to reach out to him through their connection. He'd had to shut her out quickly -- it was so very tempting to just run back to her, to hold her in his arms again -- but her voice in his head had sounded distant, fuzzy, as though the reception was bad. At the time, he’d assumed it was her doing, that she’d muted or dampened their link somehow, but--

The vague, cold unease Theron had felt since he’d left Umbara snaked itself around his chest, lodging itself in his heart. As understanding settled in, his eyes grew wide and he stared at her in disbelief, wishing and hoping that he was wrong.

“What did I break?” Sanna’s gaze slid off to the side, avoiding him, and Theron fought down the urge to be sick. He grabbed her shoulders, trying to meet her eyes.

“Vassanna, please tell me -- what’s broken?” he begged, voice raspy with dread. She looked through him, that blasted Jedi Mask securely back in place.

“Our bond.” Even though Theron had known in his heart what her answer would be, it still felt as though all the air in the room disappeared and the world tipped under his feet at her mumbled words. His hands fell away from her arms and he took a step backward, dazed. She swallowed hard and stared at the floor, tucking the edges of her cardigan tightly around herself, as she’d done so many times with his jacket.

“What have I done?” he murmured, sinking to the edge of the couch, head buried in his hands. He hadn't meant to say it aloud and she offered no answer.

Time stretched out between them, blanketing the room in a heavy silence.

“Does it hurt?” Theron asked softly, looking up at Sanna with shining eyes. Any Force-sensitive being -- bonded or not -- could undoubtedly feel the remorse and self-loathing that rolled off of him, as well as the concern for her well-being. She shook her head, still avoiding his gaze.

“Not anymore. Now it’s just... numb.” She appeared to be intrigued by a loose thread on the cuff of her sleeve and he hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. After another long silence, Theron heaved a resigned sigh and took his datapad out of his coat pocket. With a few taps and swipes of his fingers, he did what needed to be done, what she deserved: he gave her space to heal and what little peace he could. It may have been at the cost of his own heart, but he felt it a worthy exchange, all things considered.

Before he came back to the Alliance, Theron had believed that he was prepared for Sanna to reject him; he’d done and said so many terrible things, after all, even if he hadn’t meant them and they were uttered to keep her safe. That hadn't stopped him from foolishly hoping that he could make it up to her, but... not now. He’d done too much damage; no amount of “I'm sorry, but I only did this to save you,” could justify the devastation he’d caused.

Theron had always known that this was a possibility -- he just hadn’t expected it to hurt so damned much.

He cleared his throat and swallowed, but the lump there was immovable; his voice came out sounding strangled, despite the effort he put into speaking. “I've arranged to be moved to my own quarters. Change of billets for senior staff still need your approval, though.”

There was no acknowledgment of his statement from Vassanna; she simply stood there, curled into herself, blank features unreadable.

Theron stood and tenderly pulled her arms out from around herself, gingerly placing the datapad into her hands, its blinking cursor happily awaiting her authorization code. He barely checked himself in time to keep from dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

The heartbroken spy turned and trudged up the stairs to the armoire, clenching his hands into fists to still their trembling. Fuck, this hurts. Just breathe, you can do this, he told himself as he heard her fingers tapping across the keypad. Swinging the door panel open, Theron pulled out the duffle he’d so recently emptied and unzipped it, reaching blindly for the handles of a drawer.

Packing his bag, Theron felt as displaced and adrift as he had at thirteen, tossed out of the Jedi enclave and utterly on his own. The future he’d spent his entire childhood envisioning had disappeared in a puff of smoke with a few simple sentences. Daydreams of the future he’d wanted to share with Sanna threatened to do the same and he scrambled to hide them away, not quite ready to let go of this dream.

His implants pinged with a notification regarding the status of his housing request and Theron blinked it away, archiving the message before he could see the confirmation of the end, of their end. You’ve gotta keep it together, Shan, just a bit longer, he thought.

“Denied.” It was a subdued, broken whisper and Theron froze, unable to breathe for a moment, the duffle slipping from his fingers to the floor.

“What?” he asked. He could barely move, let alone turn to look at her. Hope stubbornly blossomed in his chest again and he stomped it out, afraid that he was hearing things.

“Your request is denied, Agent Shan,” she said in a wavering voice, holding the datapad out to him. “You need to work on any issues with your roommate on your own. Moving out won’t help anything.”

Theron stared at her, agape, before managing to croak out, “Of course, Commander.” He made his way slowly to the edge of the raised bedroom, crouching before dropping down and crossing the room. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the Jedi, as though she might disappear if he looked away. Pausing within arm’s reach, Theron took the datapad, fingers brushing hers, and tossed it on the sofa as he cleared his throat.

“There’s still a problem,” he said. Sanna’s eyelids fluttered closed and her jaw set in defeat at his words. “I want to make things right with her, Commander, but I don’t know how. Even if I knew how to fix it, I don’t know that I could; there’s a lot that’s broken.” Theron caught himself reaching for her and drew his hands back to himself. “And I’m worried that my roommate might not want things between us to be fixed. I hurt her -- badly.”

Opening her eyes, she glanced past him at the mostly-empty duffle lying on the floor. Fighting back more tears, Sanna met his gaze.

“Stay. I--” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Stay, Theron.”

“Are you sure, Sanna?” She nodded, lip caught between her teeth, and his heart soared. “Yeah?” She nodded again and stepped closer to him with a gasping sob, taking his hand in hers and twining their fingers together.

“I don’t know how to do this, either, but we used to make a good team,” she said, sniffling, and swiped at the tears glistening on her cheeks. “We can figure this out together, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” Theron said, haltingly reaching out to cradle her cheek in his hand and brushing away a tear with his thumb. “I like that idea, very much.”

“Me, too,” Sanna said, struggling to find the right thing to say, to do. She settled for resting her hand on top of his, eyes drifting shut while she basked in the warmth of his skin for the first time in so very long. “I love you,” she whispered.

Theron couldn’t repress an odd combination of a sob and a laugh; it drew a concerned glance from Vassanna, and he let out a relieved huff.

“I was pretty damn sure I’d never hear you say that to me again,” Theron said, blinking away the tears that sprang up, unbidden. He hesitated for the briefest of moments before pressing his lips to her forehead, closing his eyes and willing this moment to be real and not a dream.

“I certainly tried not to love you after... after everything, but I couldn’t,” Sanna sniffled. “I failed spectacularly, in fact.”

“Is it wrong that I’m glad you failed?” Theron’s flippant question was met by a long pause. His anxiety spiked as he thought that perhaps, after all this, he’d undone everything with a careless remark.

“No,” she answered quietly, voice thick with tears. “I’m glad, too.” With a small smile tugging at his lips, Theron reached up to brush a stray wisp of hair out of her face.

“Oh stars, I’m such a hypocrite.” she choked out, turning away, hand pressed to her mouth. “I'm so sorry. I didn't tell you the whole story earlier.” Sanna glanced back with wild eyes to see the confusion on Theron’s features and rushed to explain. “I wanted to hurt you like you’d hurt me -- what is wrong with me? I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m--” A whimper and hiccup broke off her rambling and Theron took a step closer, tenderly holding her face in the palms of his hands and pressing a kiss to her forehead again as his thumbs brushed her cheeks.

“No, sweetheart, you’re okay,” he said soothingly and tried not to worry about what had her so upset. “Shh, there’s nothing wrong with you, it’s alright. You can tell me now, whatever it is -- if you want to, of course.”

Sniffling, Vassanna turned away and began to pace, fingers twisted together in front of her. Theron stood as patiently as he could while she worked out whatever was running through her mind and did his best to ignore the urge to kiss the frown from her features, the way he used to when she was worried. That won’t help anything, he scolded himself.

Sanna stopped abruptly in front of Theron, as though surprised by her own inability to stand still. Her mouth opened and closed a number of times as she struggled to find the right words.

“It’s still there,” the Mirialan blurted out, gesturing to the two of them and wiping away more tears. “The connection between us, I mean. It’s in pieces, but... from the minute you walked back into my life, the Force started repairing it, stitching it back together.” Panic flashed across her features and her hand subconsciously covered her heart as she met Theron's eyes again.

“It scared me, and I-- it hurt so much and I couldn't do that again,” she whispered, shaking her head, “so I kept you at a distance, as best I could. I’m so sorry, I should have told you--”

Vassanna's hands clamped over her mouth to smother a harsh, heart-wrenching cry she could no longer contain. Without a thought, Theron stepped forward to close the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders, holding her tight. He fully expected her to pull away again and was elated to be wrong; instead, she burrowed her head in his chest and her arms wound around him, fingers grasping and clutching at the back of his shirt, as though unable to hold him close enough.

Cradling her head to his chest, Theron ran his other hand up and down and her spine, filled with both guilt and relief. Dropping a kiss on the top of her head, he murmured calming words and reassurances into her hair between sniffles of his own: how she had every right to feel the way she felt, to be angry and upset about what he’d done; there was nothing to be sorry for but he’d forgive her anything; that everything was going to be okay; that he loved her, oh he loved her so damned much; and how very, very sorry he was for everything he'd done to her and how badly he wanted to make things right.

As they stood clinging to the other, time ceased to exist and they both felt as though they were home at long last.

“Stop apologizing, Theron,” Sanna said softly, breaking the silence and leaning back slightly. She reached up and placed her cool hand on his cheek, scratchy with stubble. “I forgive you.”

Theron huffed out another laugh-sob of disbelief and tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear before kissing the crown of her head.

“Hells, I love you, Sanna,” he said, resting his forehead on hers, noses nuzzling.

“I love you too. I can’t promise--” She paused and took a deep, calming breath before meeting his amber eyes.

“This might not be easy for me sometimes, Theron. I spent so much time questioning everything and I'm having a hard time letting go of the hurt, the anger. I know that I should, I know that I need to, and I’m trying, I am, but...” The Jedi bit her lip as her words trailed off and he nodded, his thumb tracing her jaw.

“I understand. I won’t ask you to --”

Before Theron could finish his sentence, Sanna had twined her arms around the back of his neck and tilted her face up, tugging him to her and capturing his lips with her own, effectively stopping his words and any thoughts of taking things slowly.

Across the base, a notification popped up on Lana’s datapad:

Change of housing request: Shan, Theron From: Aurek-0001 To: Cresh-0312 Authorized by: T. Shan Pending Command approval...

The blonde Sith sat with bated breath, frowning at the blinking cursor with no small amount of concern -- and hope -- for her two friends.

“Oh, don’t you two dare be stubborn idiots about this,” she muttered. “Just talk to each other, for Force’s sake. Work this out.”

A small, hissed “yes” escaped the Sith as she saw the request had been rejected. With a pleased smirk, she cleared both Theron and Sanna’s schedules for the next day.

[sunriseoverseauniverse-blog]

Speak if you must

Or let silence consume you

Give up the dust

I feel the islands returning

Coming back to love

We are ships on the ocean

And when we reach the shore

There’ll be some kind of commotion

Then it’s quiet

Over the water

Some days I feel the wonder of wholeness

When I’m open

When I’m closing

Some days I’m overflowed with emotion

I see the face of the sky

With a mouth wide open

Telling my secrets through eyes

Who never see the full scope

With all the footsteps gone by

It’s never really that lonely

I sit alone with my hands

Over my heart one more time

This morning when I needed to write, I was writing from last night, when words couldn’t even escape my lips if I tried, not through pen or type.

Some nights are like this, then the next morning you get given the gift after your struggles, you may write a poem out of nowhere, a poem good enough to be a song and you sing it in your head. Or you look at some other achievement, like getting on the scales to realise your body is not as heavy as you feel and it’s good to learn because you often feel so physically influenced by the weight of your emotions and you think, wow, okay, in a way, i can be separate, I can have boundaries as a form of keeping myself safe, yes, even from other parts of myself that I am not quite ready to accept as a part of the whole. I feel this is safe to do because it keeps parts of you safely still growing until the whole of you is safe to be grown into one plant instead of lots of mini plants, isn’t that life? The picture of life.

When I was in high school I used to write books, well, diaries, well no i always ripped them up.. journals? I used to write. I used to call them “mission diary’s”. They were mostly motivational to help me get from inertia to movement. I’ve started another mission diary 2018 edition this morning and I have good feelings about it. It’s also the same day I’ve chosen to start my temporary mission to shed the past weight, and this is on a very physical level here, because it’s taking up precious space in my body that was once there to make me feel safe, whereas, I now need in order to most express myself safely without the heaviness I managed to create. So i created myself heavily relying on heaviness to feel grounded and maybe in a way it worked long enough to get myself to this age and that’s great, but it’s no longer the way I see myself across every level and so we (me and my naturopath) feel that this is the first thing to actively change. I’m really pumped about it. I’m also a little teary eyed and weary eyed about it. The grieving process I guess because it will be like a well loved part of me dying. All that will be reintegrated in the long run. I think change itself is the death that we fear and we fear it in our every day. So this is my grieving for and anticipation of change.

On some deep level I know it is time. It’s been time for a long time. But I have actively pushed this time out until it was just a little safer, a little more secure, for me to complete something so big (this change) and bring it back to myself the size that I am best able to enjoy and thrive with physically. I have waited and waited and waited, patiently. My patience is paying off because now is the time. And I will have to be focused, so focused, deeply focused, in order to pursue and create and consciously drive myself into this deep change. I know I do this on an unconscious level too, that may be of help, still I want as much of my consciousness to be heading in the direction of the change I wish for so that I can actually have it. It has been too long a life of not feeling allowed to have what I truly want. “Forbidden” is a word for the replacement of what I always wanted with things that made me feel revengeful. Only, all revenge ever did was rebound on myself. “I can’t have this deep thing I want, so I’m going to give to myself all these other things that I’m not exactly meant to have either but it’s easier to give myself this stuff than to give myself that initial thing I wanted.” Eventually that initial thing you wanted, you will still want, and all those replacement things you gave yourself in revenge to stick it to the man, only rebounded on you and actually pushed you further from what you first wanted.

It’s taken me damn long to realise that putting forth violent feelings towards the person forbidding me from what I want, somehow rebounded it’s repercussions onto myself, because you can’t spite anything without too spiting yourself.

That’s been a hard, hard, hard, hard lesson for me to learn. Yeah, all I wanted to do was say “FUCK YOU” to the forbidders and take back the forbidden which NOTE should probably have been equally available to me but was not equally available to me for reason of someone else trying to be in a position of power over me. Anyway, it was my basic human nature to want to tell the forbidders to fuck off and to think negative fuck you thoughts about them... because I was so mad and so sad not to get what I wanted which should have been openly freely available to me... and instead of this painful feeling influencing the forbidders like I would have wanted it to so they could feel how I was feeling and give me back the forbidden things that should not have been forbidden to me, that should have been openly and freely mine to receive, the “fuck you’s” and the “fuck this” and the “fuck off’s” actually were all coming from my mouth as if it were towards myself. So I caused more pain in the end for myself rather than just patiently waiting, starving, wanting. I honestly thought and would probably argue that my spite was me expressing my feelings honestly and though it was, it didn’t actually make anything better in the long run because those feelings were turned towards me... one of the repercussions of violence, rage, revenge, that I felt, and it turns out that when you subconsciously direct that at someone else, you twice as badly hurt yourself. OOps. See, if I had known ALL OF THIS I wouldn’t have done it... hind sight is a funny thing...

Anyway, in and amongst me finding out that I had used my own hurts to in fact hurt myself, because I wasn’t expressing it right in a way that could bring me what I wanted faster, I guess you could say I’ve learnt the meaning of this:

When you throw a boomerang, it always comes right back.

There’s a quote about poison and that if you try to poison someone else, it always ends up right back in your own mouth, and I guess that is actually true of words because when you speak “FUCK YOU” it’s resonating in and around your own mouth, down your throat, in through your pores and all around you.. it’s louder than as if someone was saying that to you, so technically you are poisoning your own self trying to get this across to another... and so, the vengeful thinking or expressions really are just poison in your own mouth.

Makes sense. We are so highly influenced by what we allow ourselves to say and think, especially when we are conscious of it.

Why was I needing to say “fuck you” “fuck this” “fuck that” “fuck off” to begin with? Well, firstly, I know this was my younger self SCREAMING AND CRYING OUT ... to be seen, to be heard, to be felt, to be understood... because these things which I knew deep down I was worth, were not happening in my current relationships with those who were close to me. My way of fighting for it and backing myself, in a mode of self defence, was to use crass language to state a boundary that was always being crossed (which meant that i was not being seen, heard, felt, understood, because they were not respecting my rights to need, feel, think, express and have boundaries, which is pretty much obvious that they were not allowing me to comfortably exist the way I wanted to be or the way i was). So a boundary of mine was crass language expressing what I basically needed to say which was... “NO” “GIVE ME SPACE” “BACK OFF” “I FEEL SUFFOCATED AND LIMITED AND INSECURE AND YOU ARE MAKING THIS WORSE BY NOT ALLOWING ME TO EXIST THE WAY I AM RIGHT NOW”.

Hmm, so yeah, I can see how I was feeling and what drove this in me. And I can see how they didn’t even realise the way they were treating me was wrong. So, in a way, I have compassion towards them now and also towards myself.

Can I just draw a quick line here between these two things... At first, all I felt was anger and pain and rage which came through like revenge, on myself and towards them... justifiable to my FEELINGS but not at all correct or justifiable behaviours... And now, being able to understand both sides of this and the further pain I caused myself trying to get what I wanted... I can see compassion for myself at the same time as compassion for them. So it’s almost like a lesson in deep pain has come away for me as a lesson in deep compassion. And it is both for myself and for others.

If you are deeply in pain, this can deeply pain others close to you, without you realising that your pain is at the heart of this. As well as, if you can find in your heart deep compassion for yourself, you can also find in your heart deep compassion for others. All of this compassion that has come from me UNDERSTANDING MY PAIN and therefore BEING LIBERATED FROM MY PAIN SO IT CAN NO LONGER HURT ME, OR THEREFORE, OTHERS.

I don’t believe I deserved this experience as a child, I believe things that should have been mine to access from the universe freely where held back and forbidden from me. This meant that I went looking for the wrong things in the wrong places to replace what I was actually needing because what i was needing was not available to me, it was being held out of my reach.

BUT I DO BELIEVE that I chose this lesson for my soul in this life, even before i came here and this was in fact probably why in spirit i chose these parents and this family home to grow up in so i could completely have the fullness of these lessons (from people who I believe do actually love me enough on a spirit level). By knowing this, it takes away the blame and those feelings of being wronged or being disadvantaged as a child. It doesn’t make forgiveness and letting go any easier on a human level because all of those real emotions are still there. But I know when I am finally PHYSICALLY abundant with what I am always needing, something that with the universe’s help I personally can give to myself and always ask for and have a way to provide for myself now into the future because I am aware of what that is now from this experience’s imprint on me, IT WILL HELP ME A LOT TO MOVE FORWARDS FROM THIS EXPERIENCE, and so, from my family ties... so my connections with family can be chosen, on my terms, with my boundaries and my needs being met, so these connections with family can be beautiful and nourishing to me and happy for all of us involved (unlike a lot of the times that occur when I am coming to terms with my feelings around these past family experiences, which limit me in my ability to be close with my family without shutting down to them).  

A N Y W A Y Y Y Y .... childhood issues right? ? ?

Hahahaha. 

I’m writing this to state the beginnings of my wee journey to myself that is all aimed at filling my needs. I’ve been doing the mental and emotional work for a long time now. The physical work, starting all over again, this time with access to all the right tools that i need to help me, is my current plan now. I’ve been seeing a naturopath who is amazing and supportive click here for her details.

I’m really excited to begin a professionally prescribed ketosis diet, obviously just for the short term until I can find my own momentum with fat burning and re-establish a body weight that really best encompasses who I am. This is such a sacred moment for me because I am finally getting what I want and what I feel like I’ve always wanted, even though It’s taken so long to come through... So i’m like a happy child right now getting what I really wanted for so long. It’s a wonderful feeling.

Doing this for myself both scares me and excites me because I’ve wanted it, I’ve wanted this experience, I’ve wanted to know myself through my body for so long and I’ve never really felt that relaxed, well fitted or grounded in my body so it’s been a long long time coming and I’m really really excited to explore a new feeling in my body... a feeling of being comfortable in my skin, naturally, without having to fake it or force it, feeling secure and safe, knowing my needs are met and grounding myself, being supported and nurtured by my diet. 

x

[justjen523]

A Child With the Gods

Chapter 8

(Series Rating E 18+)

                                       Love’s Infinite Depth

     “D-Does that mean what I think it means?!” Ichthys asks with eyes still wide in awe. It’s pretty apparent to everyone that the answer is “Yes.” Unable to find the right words to say Zyglavis just stands there in shock unsure of how to proceed. Just looking at him I can see the immense internal struggle. I on the other hand feel such overwhelming joy knowing that the god I seem to have fallen madly in love with is the Father to one of my children. Unable to hide it any longer from my face I burst into tears from sheer happiness. 

     No one else in the room seems to know what to say or do and subsequently does nothing. I continue to stare at that incredibly tiny and precious little hand seeking out it’s Father’s warmth.

     “Z-Zyglavis, look. Your little one wants so desperately to touch you. You  should-” Before I can finish my sentence he is on his knees resting his cheek against my belly and pressing soft kisses to the tiny little palm. As soon as he does this our baby seems to come even more alive almost as if it wants to play with him. My heart is so full it’s painful. Looking up at me with the most beautiful smile I have ever seen Zyglavis himself is in tears making this moment without a doubt the happiest of my life.

     “Wooooooow! How cute is that?! Ziggy is a daddy!” 

     “Pffft....cute? More like terrifying. I actually feel bad for the poor kid.”

     “Leon! That was seriously mean!” Looking completely unfazed Zyglavis simply takes my hand in his, his smile never faltering. 

     “Nothing can ruin this moment for me. Not even the Rabid Lion.” There’s a calmness in him I have never seen before. A sort of serenity.

     “Zig, I ain’t one to tell ya how to do things but, don’t forget she’s still mortal and that makes your kid a demigod. Don’t forget what the King said.” Scorpio’s expression does not match the harshness in his tone. Never having heard anything about this before I can’t help but glance between Zyglavis and Scorpio waiting for one of them to explain to me what he is referring to.

     “I am aware. I must admit I was quite unprepared to face the reality of this situation when all of this began. That is no longer the case. I have found something precious to me worth protecting and I do not refer simply to the life I have helped create.” His confession surprises even me. While I knew he loved me to hear it in his own words and being said aloud in front of the others somehow finally made it feel real. 

     “What about you woman? Do you love Zig the same way?” Suddenly all eyes are on me and I feel a lump in my throat. While the answer is undeniably yes part of me hesitates to say it simply because one of the others is still the Father of my other child. I don’t want to risk making anything unnecessarily painful for whomever that may be. 

     Seeing me fret Zyglavis simply smiles knowing that I absolutely return his feelings but am unsure of how to proceed without hurting anyone.

     “It is unfair to ask something such as that Scorpio. She is faced with many difficult decisions yet to come and I am not selfish enough as to expect her to declare her feelings in this state. Please, allow her time to figure out what to do.” I can’t help staring at him purely amazed that this is the same Zyglavis I met some time ago. It’s like all of this has completely changed him for the better. Though if asked not all of his subordinates would agree. Zyglavis is known and depended on for his strict adherence to the law and also his seemingly merciless fortitude in the face of doling out divine Punishment and Retribution. Looking at this serene and truly happy expression he now wears it’s hard to imagine him that way at all.

     “Tch. You’ve gone pretty soft Zig. Better be careful is all I’m sayn’. You know where the King stands on all this.” That’s the last Scorpio says before exiting the room leaving an awkward sort of tension in the air.

     Another month has passed since the day we discovered one of my children was fathered by Zyglavis. With that knowledge the other’s don’t seem to mind or even complain when Zyglavis starts spending more time with me. I am grateful for his company as I cannot believe I have actually managed to grow so much larger still. Carrying the weight of two extremely healthy and prosperous babies coupled with my gigantic breasts has taken it’s tole on my back. It’s nearly impossible for me to be comfortable anywhere other than my bed in the mansion. Worried for the three of us Zyglavis however sees to it that I at least get out once a day and take a stroll around the garden with him. The air always works it’s magic leaving me feeling refreshed.

     We’re talking and laughing when Scorpio suddenly appears out of nowhere looking a lot more severe than usual.

     “What’s wrong?” Zyglavis instantly transforms into the Minister of Punishments upon seeing his Vice Minister’s expression.

     “There’s been a development overseas. That group we’ve been keepn’ our eye on has finally made a move. The King wants to see us immediately.” Unhappy with the turn events Zyglavis turns to me before placing both hands on my shoulders.

     “I may be unavailable for a few days but do not fear. The moment this situation is under control I will immediately return to your side.” I simply nod in agreement trying to hide the aggravation and disappointment of this situation having the worst timing. With a tender smile he places a gentle kiss to my forehead which as usual causes movement in the womb. Unable to do anything but smile at that simple indescribable joy I watch him go before slowly making my way back to my room. 

          “Do you really love him goldfish?” Leon’s sudden unexpected voice in close proximity startles me causing me to spin around. His cocky grin is nowhere to be found.

     “And if I do?” Leon’s troubled expression starts to turn angry.

     “That uptight nag doesn’t deserve you.” His harsh words leave me speechless as he continues to stare at me intensely. 

     “Have you forgotten his cruelty toward you when we first met you?” The sudden memory of Zyglavis being hellbent on killing me flashes through my mind.

     “I-It’s not like that anymore!”

     “How can you be so sure? He may be playing the part right now but once he has his child you will be of no consequence to him.”

     “H-How can you say that?! Zyglavis would never...” Unable to finish my sentence at the sudden pain Leon’s thoughtless words bring me I feel an anger begin to rise when that ‘I told ya so’ smirk looks down at me coolly.

     “Y-You’re just...jealous!” I shout angrily at him causing a displeased expression to take it’s place.

     “Me jealous? Preposterous. Nothing about that stick in the mud is worth being jealous of. Just don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart.” When he turns to walk away I feel an overwhelming rage wash through me. ‘How dare he say such cruel things and then simply walk away!’  Before he takes more than a few steps, unable to control my overflowing emotions I reach out and grab his jacket to try and prevent him from walking away from me. His expression when he turns around quickly informs me that it was a very bad decision. He grips my wrist firmly in order to remove my hand from him but doesn’t let go. Instead he stares me down overwhelming me with his intimidating presence. Suddenly very much aware that I overstepped my bounds I shrink against myself until a stern voice shouts from down the hall.

     “Please remove your hand, you are scaring her.” Looking past Leon I am surprised to see my ex looking almost as severe as Leon. I am utterly shocked. Neither of us have said so much as a word since we went our separate ways.

     “Oh-ho! Nice to see you finally take an interest in this mess you made.” The two gods stare daggers at each other before Leon surprisingly relinquishes his grip. His trademark smirk returning before simply turning and walking away before disappearing into his room. Unsure of what exactly just happened I can’t help but stand there shaking. I can’t tell if it’s due to fear, anger, sadness or any combination thereof. 

     Hue silently makes his way toward me before taking my trembling hands in his cool one’s. When our eye’s meet the all too familiar pain of what transpired many months ago still lingers. 

     “Umm...t-thank you.....for protecting me and stuff.” As usual he says nothing but offers a small smile in return.

     “Are you alright?” Now it’s my turn to remain speechless as I simply nod. Several moments pass awkwardly before one of us speaks again.

     “I apologize for the distance I have caused between us. I simply couldn’t bare to see you with hurt that I caused you in your eyes. It was cowardly and selfish of me I know.” He finally offers.

     “N-No. I understand. It was difficult for me at first to even look at you.” I begin to tell him honestly.

     “But now, after everything that’s happened.....I.....I want us to at least be able to talk. I can’t pretend I’ll ever understand your reasons for doing what you did, but....I do however forgive you. I...miss you. I miss your snarky jokes and....the way you always seemed to know exactly what I needed.” Now that I’ve started I’m finding it hard to stop, the tears dripping from my chin. Hue too is teary eyed but says nothing and instead smiles warmly before wrapping his cool hand around the back of my neck bringing my forehead to his. His eyes close a moment and a single tear falls down his cheek. When he opens his eyes again there is a sadness I haven’t seen since we first met. 

     He quickly lets go and transforms back into the god I have come to know as Huedhaut. 

     “You are always welcome to talk to me and I hope in time we can once again become good friends.” 

     “But what if you’re-”

     “I am not the other Father.” 

     “What? H-How do you-”

     “I saw it, just now when our foreheads touched.” There’s a wistful sadness in his smile utterly breaking my heart. I can’t help myself from reaching out to gently caress the side of his face with my palm.

     “Hue....I....”

     “Aren’t you curious as to who the Father is?” 

     “It doesn’t matter.”

     “What did you just say?”

     “All I care about at this moment is you. I’m so sorry...”

     “Sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

     “I’m sorry that you got hurt regardless of how we got here. I’m sorry for whatever the reason is that you sometimes look at me with such a sorrow I probably will never understand. I’m sorry that I didn’t handle everything better when you opened up and told me the truth. Most of all I’m sorry that ....in the end....we couldn’t stay together. But I mean it when I tell you this, nothing can ever change the love I will always have in my heart for you Huedhaut. There’s a part of me that still even now feels like it belongs to you and only you and in the same sense I feel like a part of you is always with me.”

     “You. What am I going to do with you? A million lifetimes can come and go yet I promise you my feelings for you will never change. Not ever. All I want....all I have ever wanted is your happiness. If it is not with me than I will simply wait until the next life to find you once more. Then I will earn your love and prove myself worthy to keep it.” My heart hurts so impossibly deeply I can barely breathe as he says those words to me. He presses one last kiss to the back of my hand before smiling.

     “I will always be here for you no matter what. You can always come to me without need for an explanation so please, do not hesitate anymore. Let us begin to rebuild, only this time as friends.”

     “Thank you Hue. Truly. Thank you.” Wrapping my arms around him I hug him tightly hoping he can feel how much I still care.

[mae-gi-writes]

Who Told You It Was Okay To Stop Fighting? (YoungK & OC) Oneshot

Summary: Twenty-year old Brian Kang has nowhere to run to, no one to turn to when his world collapses. He stands at a bridge, knuckles tight on the metal handrails as he thinks of what might happen if he jumps and erases his existence from his world. But a surprising encounter with a stranger changes his mind and pushes him to try again one more time, one day at a time. 

"People are so focused on what's already past and what's to come that they don't appreciate the present." 

It’s cold.

Thirteen degrees celsius, with a thirteen percent chance of slight drizzle. Clouds hang low in the sky, barely giving the moon any space to breathe. Not that it matters, becaus I feel the same way. Like the moon, I mean.

It’s suffocating and dark, a grey monotone of color that has slithered into my wounds before I got the chance to dab in some ointment.

But that’s okay because I accept my fate.

I know what’s coming for me, the ending isn’t a pretty one if that’s what you’re wondering.

The wind bites at my skin as I slowly climb my way up onto the railing, looking over the river that separates my country into two. The lights are scattered across the city like a million of stars dancing through a galaxy of possibilities that unfortunately aren’t given to me through choice.

It is not a good night. Too cold and too windy. Easy to fall off with one wrong move, one wrong step. If the coldness of the water doesn’t kill me, the impact of the fall will. I don’t know which one I prefer, to be honest. The alternatives don’t seem very appealing and I wish that I have enough courage to back out before it’s too late, to take a step back before I know what kind of mistake I’m going to be doing.

But I’m a coward, and cowards always back out of things.

They like the easy way out and today, this is the easy way out for me. Jumping, that is.

I want to stand up and spread my arms wide, but I don’t. Instead, I look down at the impending darkness and wonder what lies behind those murky waters. Are there monsters ready to chomp onto one of my limbs? Is there a black abyss to suck my body in only to spit it out on the other side?

God only knows.

But tonight I’ll know. Tonight,I”ll figure out the puzzle that is the unknown dark matter that is waiting for me.

I just won’t live long enough to tell the tale.

“What are you doing?”

The unfamiliar soprano almost makes me topple over to the other side. Flustered, my arms scramble for purchase before they catch onto one of the metal bars, ears ringing with alarm.

Slowly, as though I’m a deer caught by a car’s headlights, I look down and almost scream out loud at the girl leaning against the railing beside me.

Her arms are supporting her as she nestles her face onto them, gaze flitting dow to the omniscient darkness before her eyes locked onto mine.

Her brown orbs are dark and intense, intimidating.

They make me flinch.

“What are you doing?” she repeats slowly as though she’s talking to a kid, and her somehow condescending tone makes me snap.

She’s a stranger and doesn’t even know me. I let people trample all over my ego, I’ve been holding the bucket of insults full in my arms for a while and that small comment is enough to make it overflow.

“None of your business.” I say.

“Geez, no need to bitch. I was just curious.” she shrugs, unseemingly bothered by the fact that I’ve just snapped at her, “So, what’s your plan? To jump?”

She hit the right spot.

For a moment, I hold my breath and hear the bustling traffic noise that sounds a little too loud and uncomfortable for my liking. I could lie, I could say that o, I’m just here to admire the view.

But I’m tired of lying. Tired of beating myself up for others and cleaning up after their mess.

“Yes.” I look at her straight in the eye “want to help?”

She sighs before raking a hand through her hair, a gesture that girls do whenever they’re slightly frustrated about something, “See, the thing is, I was told to save you.”

“What?” I frown.

“I’m from your past and your future,” she smiles but her teeth glint with a dangerous light, “I’m your subconscious.”

“Heck no,” I’m horrified. That is definitely not something --someone-- I would conjure up by myself, “if my subconscious was human, she’d definitely not resemble you.”

But it’s then that I focus on her features. Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, pale skin that reflects the moon’s light, thin lips that stretch wide into a smile, she definitely isn’t my type. But I have to admit that she does have her charm despite the oddity of her face.

“Fine, don’t believe me. Being your type isn’t in my job description anyway.”

I just throw her a pointed look that shows I’m weirded out.

“Anyway, don’t jump.” She continues, “and I’m saying that not because I give a slight inkling of shit about you, but because I’ll lose my job if you do.”

“Are you drunk?” I ask her.  

“No.”

“Take any drugs?”

“No,” she scowls, and I can’t help but feel amused by the way her features shift her expression. She looks terrifying, “Even if I was, I wouldn’t care about a stranger standing on the edge of the railing.”

“You’re doing that now.”  

“That’s because you’re my responsibility,” the anger pulsates through her voice, “Brian Kang.”

How does she know my name?

She rolls her eyes, “Do you need more evidence?”

“Maybe.” Is she a psychopath? Maybe she just wants my money so that she can run away with it with her lover, have some kind of romantic road trip or something. Or maybe she’s just really desperate to-- “--make someone’s life better because she thinks she’s a saint.” her voice bursts through my thoughts, finishing up the sentence as though I’m saying them myself. One of her eyebrows quirk up when a smug smile makes its way onto her lips.

I stare at her, “How did--”

“--you do that?” she finishes. I glare before I say, “You don’t know--”

“--what I’ve been through and what I am. I’m not your toy nor your puppet, and you can’t just go around playing barbie doll and ken with me.” she finishes suavely as though I’ve implanted my thoughts into her brain, and that freaks me out just the slightest.

Crossing her arms and looking up at me with an expression mirroring content, she continues, “Do you want me to continue? Or is that proof enough?”

“Okay,” I try finding a comfortable position so that I can settle myself onto the railing, knuckles holding on tight to those metal bars when another gust of wind makes me shudder. But I try to ignore the icy coldness biting at every inch of exposed skin at my knuckle, and instead focus on the girl before me.

“Say you’re actually a figment of my imagination, my subconscious, whatever,” I can hear myself speaking and it’s almost as if I still don’t believe her. Up until two seconds ago, I didn’t. “What do you want from me?”

“I want to save you,” She replies instantly without missing a beat.

That causes something in my throat to clog up tight. Emotion.

I press my lips together, “You can’t.”

I thought she’d make a fuss, or scream, or shout at me until I see reason. Any other human being would grab me by the shoulders and shake me senseless until it would get ingrained in my head. But she’s not human and she’s definitely not real, therefore she can’t touch me.

But it’s nothing like that. She shifts a little, rocks from one foot to the other. And then asks the most surprising thing:

“Why?”

I blink, “Why do I want to die?”

She nods.

Because it’s an escape. Because I’m a coward and I want to get away from everything and everyone. Because in the end people just keep using me and using me like a post-it note they can just throw away. I’m useful but only for a short period of time, I’m an option when there are no options left.

And because in the end no one really cares.

In the end, I’m all alone.

I don’t say all that, but I’m pretty sure my thoughts speak louder than my words ever will. I see her expression soften into one of pure sympathy, and although I hate it when people look at me as if I’m just another poor dog on the street without any master, her eyes offer some kind of comfort and understanding, an understanding that I am an equal of everyone else and that she’s sorry to see me suffer for something that I’m not responsible of doing or saying.

In her eyes I see that she understands what it feels like to be knocked out just because you’re the weakest, kindest link in a chain.

“I’m sorry,” is what finally falls from her mouth.

I chuckle, but it’s dry, half-hearted. “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry that the world was so harsh and unforgiving to you, that you now look at friends like they’re a potential threat and that you think of yourself as the last option that doesn’t seem to be worth anyone’s time.”

“I’m sorry too,” my gaze is glued on the blinking city lights and the permanent black ink that is the scenery beyond me, but inside my mind is roaring and my heart is drowning with choked up emotion as I think back to all those times I’ve been let down and ditched by people, every time I’ve been stabbed in the back without so much of an apology, every time I fell for people’s malicious intentions in hopes of salvaging the thought that people can still be the best versions of themselves.

But everyone has a limit, and I think I’ve reached mine sooner than I’ve expected.

“But it doesn’t have to be that way.”

My head turns slowly. I look down at her, at the bright hope in her eyes and the way her face lights up with an expression that resembles faith. Faith in…

Me?

“You don’t have to put such high expectations on people, because that’s exactly what kills you in the end.” she continues hurriedly as though she fears I might jump at any second now, “You don’t have to put so much faith in others, nor do you have to trust anyone but yourself. But that’s kind of a saddening existence, isn’t it? To be alive only to be alone. That’s not why we live.”

Her eyes slide away from mine before she gazes out the scenery, “I’m not telling you to live a lonely life. I’m just telling you that you should be conscious of who you trust and who you decide to trust with all your heart. But that too doesn’t work sometimes. Sometimes, the ones that we trust the most are the ones that wish the worst for us. You’re going to be stabbed in the back again and again after this. Continuing to live means that you’ll suffer the consequences of pain. Human beings are cruel and will do anything to get what they want. So I know how it feels, to be the only option when people run out of them.”

And suddenly, her brown orbs are staring right into mine, deep and dark and serious. It’s a stormy wave of emotion crashing to the shore and I almost flinch back on impulse. But there’s something in her eyes that reel me in, that make me want to look even when I know I’ll probably regret it.

“But if you jump, you admit that you’re nothing, that your life is worth nothing.”

The words fail me. I want to speak but seems like I can’t.

I open my mouth only to close it again.

She continues, “What about your parents? Did they raise you right to throw this life away? What about your family? Are you going to be the problem that breaks them apart? What about the friends that genuinely care? Do you want to see them fight and take the blame for this choice of yours that you’re not even sure is the right one? Because let me tell you, it’s not the right choice. Running away wasn’t not a choice to begin with.”

“I’m not running--”

“But you are. You’re running away from a healthy life while others are struggling to live. Are you really going to sacrifice this just because you’re not strong enough to put people in their place? Are you really going to make everyone’s life a living hell just to satisfy your own wants and needs?”

Her hands suddenly enclose my own. They’re warm and tangible and here. They’re a blessing from the cold, they feel real enough for me to grip onto them with a tighter grasp. She searches my face with a desperation I haven’t seen cross anyone’s eyes yet, and another wave of emotion hits me in the gut, so hard that I have to force the tears at the back of my eyes.

“You’re here. You’re real,” she insists as her grip tightens, “Who told you it was okay to stop fighting?”

I bite my lip so hard I taste blood at the edge of my mouth.

Why is she fighting so hard to keep me alive?

“Look, let’s make a deal.” she says, “Try to live for one more day. One more, one day at a time. What do you say?”

I want to shake my head, “I can’t--”

“You can, Brian,” she says gently, “You can. You just don’t want to try.”

“I’ve tried enough!” My tone rises with frustration and anger, tears prickling the corner of my eyes, “I’ve tried again and again and again and yet it never feels like it’s enough!”

“Try,” she pleads, “try one more time. One more. Please.”

I don’t want to say yes because I don’t want to promise something I don’t believe in. But she grips my hand harder if that’s possible, and I’m obliged to look into her eyes. Brown jewels shining into my own, they’re urging me to try, giving me a strength that I’ve lost in this endless battle.

I don’t know who she is, or what she wants from me. I don’t even know if she’s real or if she’s just a passing stranger that decided to take my life into the responsibility of her own hands.

But she’s trying so hard, and something in her expression causes a surge of faith to leap in me.

It’s burning my chest but it’s not uncomfortable. On the contrary, it feels warm and cozy, just like I’ve settled on a futon next to a fireplace.

And so I say yes.

“One more time,” she repeats like a mantra, “Try one more time.”

I nod.

I’ve never seen her again, but I did try. More than once.

And started living as I should.

Author’s Note: Because YoungK is slowly killing me inside and wrecking my bias list. Have you guys listened to Day6's newest song "I Loved You"? If you haven't, you're missing out on the most important, heart wrecking song in your life. Please go and listen, it's a masterpiece T.T 

Here's another small oneshot inspired by a quote I found recently on Tumblr. People focus too much on the past and the future, only to miss out on the present. So here is the result of pondering and senseless writing in my notebook. I actually freehandwrote this before typing it out and I found that it helps me a lot more than just typing. There's something purely authentic and free about writing on paper that makes it a lot easier for my thoughts to flow. 

I hope you guys like it!<3 <3

[sergaybobrovsky]

five times kissed baby

five times our muses kissed // @not-neopolyton

Under the cut because it got kind of lengthy.

i. 

“Can I ask you something?”

His question breaks the silence and he watches how Frenchie ( a nickname he knows is not wanted ) lifts his head and meets his gaze again. Although they, whatever that means, have been a thing for some time now, moments like this have, so far, been few and far between. Rarely have they found themselves in a situation where only they are present and Bunny is nowhere near. It has taken quite a while from to progress this far, to be in the same room without the silent threat of physical violence looming over their heads, but they still have a long way to go.

“Can I do anything to stop you?” The sarcastic tone of Abel’s counter-question doesn’t surprise him, but, in return, neither should Gavriil ignoring it and taking it as a permission to speak.

“Are you a virgin?”

And just like that, the silence returns to the room. The only difference between now and then is that their eye contact remains, unwavering.

It goes on, but Gavriil does not relent. Patience is not one of his strengths, but for this answer, he’s willing to wait.

“Bien sûr que non.” 

Gavriil chuckles.

“No need to be offended, Frenchie, ” he swears he can hear the glare, “I was just being curious.” A short pause. “So you have been with guys too?”

Another moment of silence as one-sided tensions fills the air of the room.

Maybe that silence is his answer.

Their moment of staring ends when Gavriil’s phone buzzes and he looks down as he fishes it from his pocket. What he can’t, and won’t, hide is the way his lips curl up at Abel’s answer. It’s definitely something he’ll have to remember for later use. For future reference. 

A message from Illarion, asking him to meet somewhere. Doesn’t sound anything urgent, but it’s not like he’s currently doing particularly important either. 

“Well, looks like I have to go.” He’s not obligated to explain himself or where he’s going, but he’s trying to be polite around Abel, for Bunny’s sake. Gavriil stands from his seat and, after grabbing his jacket, almost heads toward the door, but stops on his tracks. Turning around, he walks until he’s standing in front of the younger man and, for once, he’s the one who has to lean down.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, his lips almost touching Abel’s ear, “I won’t tell anyone.” Gavriil steps backward but instead of leaving instantly, he leans down again. This time, however, it is to press his lips against Abel’s. 

The smile on his own lips is conspitorial when he pulls back and stands straight again.

“See you around, mon chéri.”

ii. 

He may not be an artist in the most traditional sense of the word, but if there’s one art form he’s mastered with his lovers, it’s listening without listening. That talent is currently being tested by a woman—someone new to Devil’s Touch, for she seems unaware of her companion’s reputation—who has gone on and on about the morbid timing of the masquerade party.

“I mean, to each their own, I suppose, but the timing of this party is… questionable, to put it mildly. Party like this so soon after the death of the owner? Especially when they have yet to catch the killer? I can’t help but be slightly disturbed by it all. Don’t you agree?”

Gavriil nods as he nurses his drink, only to grab it and down its contents in the next second. His eyes never leaver the woman’s face;  it will reveal valuable information that he can use when making plans for the rest of the night.

“Sort of.” A lie. “I understand your point, but this is what she would’ve wanted. For the life and Devil’s Touch to go on living. She would’ve been furious if we had done anything else.” Another bullshit lie, but if the expression on her face indicates anything, it’s that she hadn’t considered this point of view.

“I suppose it’s not so macabre if you put it like that…” She nods in agreement, that train of thought seemingly forgotten as she moves her hand and runs her fingers up and down his arm. She lifts her gaze up and, even if she hasn’t spoken, he knows what she’s about to say. When she speaks, her voice has a purring quality to it. “Do you have any plans for tonight? Because I can thi———”

Before she’s able to finish her sentence, or Gavriil is able to reply, someone places their hands on his face and tugs him forward into what can only be described a surprisingly rough kiss. For a moment, Gavriil is stunned, unable to respond accordingly to determined lips and a demanding tongue seeking entrance. Then, although he’s no less shocked, his brain catches up and refuses to let him be a passive participant. Without separating, he loops his arm around Abel’s neck and stands up in order to get closer to him.

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, but when they break apart, the woman stares at him with an aghast look on her face.

“As it turns out, I do have plans for tonight.” He explains calmly while shooting an unmistakable look toward Abel. His hand grasps the taller man’s hand; he smiles at the woman. 

“Enjoy the party, darling. Maybe as much as I will.”

iii. 

Fear is like an intimate lover to Gavriil, a close companion, but if there’s something he’s learned over the years, it’s that there’s no room for fear when you’re holding a gun to your head. Too often fear leads to making mistakes and making mistakes leads to one’s own death instead of that of one’s target. 

Right now, however, fear is the dominant emotion spinning in his mind, even if he can’t let it show. And he’s holding a gun.

“Davay, day mne pistolet.” He snaps impatiently and holds his free hand expectantly towards the Sol nearest to him. He can feel the curious eyes of the other two men on him, but Gavriil keeps his trained on the third one. He can’t risk looking at the pair not because they are standing to his left, but because someone else is also standing to his left.

Abel. The most annoying Frenchman he’s ever known. 

Abel. One of the two loves of his life.

“Day mne chertovu pistolet!” He raises his voice and finally, finally the Sol hands it to him. “Kak vy sobirayetes’ yego zakonchit’?” The man asks as Gavriil checks whether the guns are loaded and if the safety is off. They are and it is.

He lifts his hand and points the guns at the Sols. “Like this.”

Bam. Bam. Bam.

He doesn’t wait for their dead bodies ( he knows his shots were lethal ) to fall on the ground before he’s rushing to Abel’s side.

“Are you okay? Are you injured?” He questions, tone dripping anxiety, as he frantically removes every tie the Sols had used to bind him to the chair. Thank god they had only used tape. “Are you alright?” Gavriil repeats, his voice increasingly desperate, as he falls on his knees in front of Abel and holds his head between his hands. He has to hear the answer, he has to hear it, has to———

“You killed them.” Abel croaks. “You kill—” The Russian doesn’t let him finish the sentence, for he surges forward and seals their lips together. It’s a far cry from the kisses they usually share. There’s nothing romantic, nothing sweet, nothing lustful to be found — it’s all fear and desperation.

“You can worry about me later, sweetheart,” Gavriil begins after finding enough mental strength to pull back to speak clearly, “But first we need to get out of here and get you fixed up.”

iv. 

They are not safe, that much is clear. No matter what they do, where they go, they will never be completely safe. They can use as many fake identities as necessary and forge all travel documents they might need, but they will never achieve total safety. The risk of someone unwanted, especially someone unfamiliar to them, recognizing them and informing the Corsicans or the Bratva exists. In addition, they each have their own, personal enemies who wish for nothing more than to see them dead.

They will never be safe. He knows that.

For a moment, however, while they sit on a private jet, currently somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean. Gavriil allows himself to believe in the fragile but alluring illusion of safety. A moment of selfish indulgence would not hurt anyone.

As quietly as he can, he shifts in his seat, his eyes glued to the two sleeping figures on the seats opposite to him. Bunny and Abel. Bunny. Abel. His dikiy. His parizhanin. His, his, his. “Mine.” A possessive whisper leaves his lips, even though no one hears it, and a sudden rush of relief runs through his body. Mine. After what feels like an eternity, he is finally able to say it out loud freely. “Mine.” He tries again, wanting to know what the word tastes on his tongue.

Mine. Mine. Mine. It tastes exquisite; it tastes better than he could’ve ever imagined.

“Why are you talking to yourself?”

His body tenses when his silence is shattered, but relaxes as soon as it realizes the “fight-or-flight” mode is not needed.

“Prosti. I didn’t realize I was speaking. I thought I was just thinking.” His gaze keenly follows Abel’s journey from the state of sleep to full awareness. His hair looks adorable, unruly in a way it rarely does. 

Gavriil decides he loves that look.

“Don’t think so loudly next time.”

Once Abel’s command reaches his ears, he chuckles. “Duly noted, sakharok.” He promises, his voice overflowing with barely concealed amusement, and leans forward to press his lips against the other male’s.

v. 

“You’re staring.”

Were it anyone else, Gavriil would, true to his stubborn and proud nature, insist he was not staring. But it’s a lovely, lazy Saturday morning ( something he’d grown to appreciate over the years, much to his surprise ), and he doesn’t want to ruin it its magic.

“Mmm, I am.” He admits shamelessly; and why shouldn’t he? It’s not like the statement is false. He sips his coffee before placing the mug down the counter. “How could I not, though,” Gavriil speaks again as he moves toward Abel with unhurried steps, savoring the moment, “When moy muzh stoit i vyglyadit tak chertovski velikolepno.”

An exasperated eye roll is the first reaction, but he doesn’t take it as an offense, not when he also detects the way blush paints Abel’s cheeks the faintest shade of red. “Tu est ridicule.” Abel accuses him and, once again, Gavriil can’t help but nod. “Tell me something I don’t already know.” He replies and, before giving him an opportunity to reply, sneaks an arm around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. 

It’s been years, yet he has not tired of this — and he doubts he ever will. He will not get tired of the way their lips glide over each other so effortlessly, the way their bodies try to get closer even though there’s no distance between, the way his heart beats faster like every kiss is their first one.

“You are disgusting.”

The sharp remark forces him to return to the present moment. Gavriil turns his head toward the sound and, just like he anticipated, finds himself looking at an unimpressed teenager. “Esme. You’re awake already.” It’s a half-statement, half-question, and doesn’t impress her at all. “Good of you to notice, dad. And good morning, papa.” She doesn’t spare another glance at either one of them; she merely grabs an apple from a bowl nearby and turns around to exit the room.

“She has definitely inherited her mother’s attitude.” Abel’s comment breaks the silence after a minute or two. The corners of Gavriil’s lips tug upward. 

“Better that than taking after either one of us.”

GOOGLE TRANSLATIONS bc I’m too lazy to do that hover thing:

- bien sûr que non = of course not- davay, day mne pistolet = come on, give me the gun- day mne chertovu pistolet = give me the fucking gun- kak vy sobirayetes’ yego zakonchit = how are you going to finish him- dikiy = wild (one)- parizhanin = parisian- prosti = sorry- sakharok = sugar-  moy muzh stoit i vyglyadit tak chertovski velikolepno = when my husbands stands there and looks so damn gorgeous- tu est ridicule = you are rdiciulous

[absurdisttheatre]

Bucket

You found that spot

You found that strange little spot on the back of my neck

Its not a particularly noticeable spot

It hides on the nape of my neck, behind my hair at times, nothing touching it but the clasp of my necklace or a unusually high shirt collar

For the most part, it has no function outside attaching my brain to the rest of my flesh suit, a strange relationship I am still trying to understand as I never can quite find the connection in the two. I live in my head, I exist in my body. My body has no experiences of its own outside of pain, it has no function but to remind me of my own mortality, I merely try to use it as a tool to connect to the outside world so I can show them the absurd world that is my brain, a house of emotion and thought and imagination, a place where I think and change and grow as a person, somewhere that is unbound by time, as it chooses to experience minutes or hours as slowly or as quickly as it desires. Thoughts will get trapped there sometimes, as the connection to my body, their only conduit, is somewhat faulty. My body does not always want to express or communicate, it wants to be a machine. It wants to function and nothing more, but when the connection is faulty it often just sits, waiting for instruction, and no matter how long the brain shouts, it won't hear the instructions. Sometimes, if I sit at just the right angle, the connection works, and when that happens, you maintain hat condition as long as possible. You work you flow you move until you lose it because you do not know when it will come back again and so you take advantage of your newfound productivity until the connection runs dry and you go back to the disconnect- your brain screaming, your body waiting.

Something strange happened when you found that spot with your hand. 

I was chattering, as I so often do, as it is one of the few ways I can consistently clear the space in my brain to compensate for the overproduction of thoughts that have nowhere to go and you reached out to pull me closer and your hand found that spot on my neck and

I stopped

Something had happened

The connection between brain and body had been made, but in a new, strange way.

My brainspace is usually like a bucket sitting under a faucet that just streams thought- most normal people have a good connection to their body, so they know when the bucket hits a certain point you pick it up and pour it out- you might water the plants, or wash the floor, or a myriad of other things because you know there are so many ways to use a bucket of water and it would be wasteful to let the bucket sit there under the faucet until it is too full and heavy to move and so it continues to fill until it is overflowing and so you try to turn off the faucet except the handle breaks and you keep screaming at yourself to do something because you are wasting water and no decent human being wastes water but

When your hand found that spot

You kicked the bucket of water

The faucet shut off

The water just rolled away from me

The thoughts were gone and I was present

Present in  my own body 

I was conscious of time

My brain was yanked down to a physical space

Touch became intelligent 

Feeling became physical

I couldn’t speak because my thoughts no longer existed in the form of language. They only wanted to talk in tangible ways.

I still don’t quite understand what happened. I don’t even know if I particularly liked the sensation. Because when you connected my body to my brain, you gained access to everything, to things that I keep guarded from the rest of the world. My bucket may be overflowing most of the time, but at least I’m the only one who knows. But now, I don’t know if that is true anymore. I don’t know how much I can hide I don’t know how much you know and I don’t know if you know or kept every secret that flowed through that touch and if you do know or care or remember I don’t know if that overflowing bucket has placed a burden on you or if the overflowing bucket somehow drenched you when it was kicked over and I don’t know if you’re mad about that and if you ever want to find that spot on the back of my neck again because you know it will only cause a downpour that will leave you drenched.

I don’t know

And not knowing keeps the bucket full

I am working on fixing the connection so I can go pour the bucket out. I don’t want to depend on someone else to kick the bucket over for me. My body is consistently there. Water can conduct electricity. I am trying to build a pipe that will connect the bucket to my body. The pipe springs a lot of leaks, so I am often more busy fixing the holes than I am using the water that makes it though

But the fact is

There is some water that makes it though now.

And I am grateful for that.

[stardustizuku]

Color Me Free

Summary: 

JiaLong : < hey do u have the calculus hw ? >

With everything else being an absolute mess, Emil didn’t exactly appreciate a message that asked for the homework he had done ages ago. Normally, he would have ignored it. It as just a random someone asking for something not really important. Nothing to be concerned about.

He stared at the other two messages, and then he stared at the clock. He didn’t feel like answering either of them, not on Friday evening, when all he wanted was to crawl into his bed and stop existing. So he, almost unconsciously, opened the messenger app and began typing.

[who are you ? ]

AO3 LINK 

Emil stared beyond the window. The crystal was covered in smudges, making it difficult to see through. Still, the color of the sunset was breathtaking enough to make up for it. He sighed, unable to feel the colors blooming from the inside out, and instead turning to the colors from the outside to feel something.

It was useless. The fake colors from the outside managed to make him feel alive for a few seconds, yet as soon as he turned to the blank canvas, he felt them slowly washing away from his body. He gripped the pencil as hard as he could, tempted to just throw everything away. Desperate, he tried to retrace the colors, the feeling, of that beautiful sunset into the empty canvas. Moving his hand up and down, from side to side, in circles.

Sketch. Sketch. Sketch.

His hand stopped. He felt his own eyes get wet. He cursed. He breathed in and out. In and out. It was useless. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he felt the complete wasteland inside. Nothing. He looked up to the sketch and felt his blood boil, tears overflowing as he recognized it.

It was a flower.

A knock from the other side of the door was heard. Emil couldn’t bring himself to get up. Instead, choosing to simply stare at his own lap, trying to hold back the tears that streamed down like a waterfall. The pencil laid in his hands. He could almost feel it staring back at him, mocking.

‘This is all your fault,’ the pencil said.

‘So lame,’ the canvas laughed.

Emil tried to tune everything out. Even the sunset, which seemed to just look at him in pity now. Once upon a time, in a fairy tale that someone used to read, the sunset said pretty words, and the pencil’s sang a melody to which he could draw. Where was that fairy tale now?

“Emil,” a voice interrupted him. A voice like the roses in the garden, still a bud not quite yet blooming, opened it’s way in the colorless room. He recognized it, he didn’t have to look up to know who it was. “It’s late, shouldn’t we go home?”

“You should go, Lily,” his own voice seemed alien, Lily surely recognized the unusual pitch in his voice. But as the good friend –as the good person- she was, she didn’t comment on it. “Your brother will get worried.”

“I am worried,” Lily walked a few steps closer, standing right next to his seat. Out of the corner of her eyes, she looked at the canvas. Her expression, filled with concerned, deepened. “Come on, let’s walk home together. Like before.”

Emil hesitated. Lily walked right in front of him, standing between the the disgusting excuse for a flower, and him. She forced him to look straight into her eyes. Green. Like the spring. Soft and warm like the grass in a sunny day, expression filled eyes. He could almost hear her heart breaking, and almost taste the salt of her tears.

“Please,” she breathed, holding the sides of his head in her hands. Small, only a tad bit smaller than his own, still lukewarm from the summer evenings. “You’re tearing yourself apart…I can’t watch you do this. Not after everything.”

Lily’s eyes were filled with water, mirroring Emil’s own. The only difference being how her tears were screaming in bright pink, and his were whimpering in baby blue.

Filled with guilt, Emil took her hands in his, moving them slowly towards his lap. He moved a hand to wipe away the tears that were falling from her eyes.

“Lily,” he whispered her name softly, scared that if he was too loud something might break. Maybe something inside her, maybe something inside him. They were equally possible outcomes. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to make you cry…”

“I know you’re hurting,” she closed her eyes, tears slowly riding down her cheeks, dampening them. “But I don’t want to see you destroy yourself like this.”

“I’m sorry,” that’s everything he managed to say. Her eyes opened slowly, more and more tears forming in her eyes. Emil almost chuckled at this. “You’re such a crybaby.”

“And you’re not?” She breathed out a half laugh, a half sob. A broken smile moved to her lips. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t,” he promised. Lily looked about to break down again, but she wasn’t as weak as she seemed. She swallowed the tears, and instead went for a hug. Tight and reassuring; firm without hesitation. Emil felt his insides crack, and with tears he returned the hug. “Promise.”

The door opened.

Lily was the one to turn towards whoever was standing in the door. Emil just looked out to the window, trying to hide his tears and flushed cheeks.

“Um, sorry…the teacher asked me to close the art room…” the voice began, obviously confused over what was happening. Lily untangled herself from Emil’s body and rushed for her bag.

“It’s okay, I… I was supposed to be leaving,” her voice came out strained from the emotion. “Emil, are you coming?”

He felt the hope in her words, but chose to bite his lips. Neither a confirmation nor an answer. She heard her sigh and although he couldn’t see her, he felt her ‘worried stare hid in a smile’ look as she neared the door.

“I guessed so,” he heard her open the door. “Don’t stay too late, and text me when you get home.”

She left. The tiny spec of color that had floated around the room ever since she had entered, left. Everything was back to them empty canvas that refused to be painted with anything other than soulless flowers. The sunset was leaving too, and black began coloring the sky in a tasteless manner.

“Well, I need to close so,” the person behind him talked. A random voice without color, without feelings. Emil got up from the chair he had dragged next to the window,  and began putting all his things away -the brushes he never used, the crystal clear water, unused pencil colors still sharpened and complete, and the stupid canvas that had a meek flower sketched over. A flower that could go wither for all her cared-. “Wow, your girlfriend must have dumped up pretty roughly if you’re that angry.”

Emil wasn’t in the mood for stupid people, saying stupid things. He threw everything he had into his bag, ignoring the horrible pain that memories were being brought back.

Girlfriend. Dumped. Angry.

Those words kept repeating themselves like a mantra over and over, keeping him in the border of mental meltdown. His own hands were trembling, barely managing to hold things in them without dropping everything. The faint noise that came from the guy who talked, just increased the feeling of complete self destruction. Emil quickly turned around, towards the door. He felt his skin prickle in blue and green, a horrible abomination when it ate you away.

“Hey, don’t ignore me, that’s super rude,” the guy kept talking. Inside his head, Emil shouted.

‘Shut up. Shut up. Shut up,’ he wanted everyone and everything to shut up. The sudden rush of unpleasant colors crawled up his spine, making him shiver in disgust. He wanted to escape. The door seemed like a heaven he could reach in a few steps, yet so far away.

“I told you to wait!” The guy shouted this time, and instead of simply letting Emil get away, he grabbed his hand. His hand was hot, burning even. Emil turned around instantly, trying to get away from the grip in his hands.

Red.

“What the hell is your problem!?” He shouted, fighting the grip in his hands, refusing to look up and meet his eyes. “Leave me alone!”

“My problem!? I’m not the weirdo who is ignoring me!” The guy shouted back at Emil.

“Shut up!” Emil glared, only after seconds of anger did he realized his mistake. The guy had seen his face. His swollen face, with snot in his nose and red eyes from crying. Probably even some tears in them. They boy was looking at him, with perplexed eyes.

Brown eyes, wood like strong. His hair was brown too, surrounded by the last tints of sun that came through the window.

Red.

“Are,” the boy’s voice cut through the air, snapping Emil out of his daze. “Are you cry-?”

Blushing, and before the guy could finish his sentence, Emil forcibly pulled out of the grip, startling the boy. He wiped his tears away as fast as he could, and turned around. Everything inside him was screaming, but no sound came out of his mouth.

He ran towards the door, and into the hallways that seemed endless. It was no use thinking were he wanted to go. With his mind running miles per seconds, he couldn’t register where his feet were taking him. Not that it mattered. He knew this hallways by heart, it was impossible for him to get lost.

He reached the school entrance. Black fence, with the school’s emblem carved on the top. His ragged breath was all he could hear. Not even the wind blowing, which by this time of the year was non-existent, could be heard. Neither could he hear the cicadas. He guessed that near school, cicadas ceased to exist. Maybe he was right, and everything near a school slowly withered to death. Maybe cicadas died, just like every student’s passion and excitement.

Emil turned around, slightly, looking over his shoulder to stare at the big window in the third floor of the building, right over the football field, in the far corner. The Art Room. That window with smudges and paint that haunted his dreams. The boy was nowhere to be seen, but from down there it was difficult to even spot the paint.

Red.

He faced the school’s entrance once again. Taunting, and harmless. Emil walked towards it. He was half hoping for Lily to be waiting -beneath the sunset, lively like a sunflower- but her smile was nowhere to be seen, and her cheerful ‘Let’s go home!’ Nowhere to be heard. So, he walked down the street, three blocks down, six to the left and final and a quarter towards the east. His house stood there. Windows transparent, curtains in purple adorning them.

Emil opened the door, making his way through the living room without a sound. The tv was turned on, but Emil couldn’t recognize what the show was about. It was merely background noise to whatever was happening on the kitchen.

“Welcome home,” a voice called, making Emil stop his tracks. He turned, and a head showed from around the corner of the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

Emil shook his head, but the small pause he had made before doing so, gave him away. His brother stared, not buying it.

“You haven’t eaten,” he didn’t ask. He confirmed. Emil was left with no other option other than sighing. “You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” it was an useless intent to get out of his brother’s worries. He knew it was pointless, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. It wasn’t a lie, after all. He wasn’t hungry. “I ate with Lily on my way here.”

“Funny,” his brother came out of the kitchen, his deadpan look mixed with amusement. “I recall receiving Lily’s message saying that you weren’t with her on the way home.”

“Traitor,” Emil breathed. He knew for a fact that she was more worried than willing to betray him, but still, it would take a while for her to gain back his trust.

“She’s worried about you, just like I am,” Lukas’ eyes softened. He walked towards Emil, and let his hand rest on Emil’s shoulder. Emil felt his own shoulders tense at the contact, and his eyes begin to hurt from the tears threatening to spill. Somehow, with some strength he didn’t know he had, he managed to hold them back. He looked up, to see his brother staring with a heartbroken look. “Let’s eat.”

“I’m really not hungry,” he sighed but walked towards the table, empty and cold. There was no point in fighting his brother.

“It’s porridge,” Lukas walked back to the kitchen, taking this as a sign that regardless what Emil might say, he was willing to eat.

And technically, he did eat. Maybe he played around with the food more than he actually ate, but he did nibble the bread and took some of the rice in his mouth.

“Is that really all you’re going to eat?” After a long silence from part of his brother, he spoke only to say that. Emil looked at his brother’s plate, already empty, while his was probably just a little below overflowing.

“I told you I’m not hungry,” Emil shrugged, setting aside his spoon. Lukas took his plate to set it in the sink.

“You’re not moving until you eat,” he threatened, and began washing the dishes.

Emil stared at his own plate.

‘It’s tasty,’ that voice said. In purple and blue, filling the air with beautiful tints of light. Emil could see their smile, bright and sweet. It made him blush, it made his heart flutter. ‘I love it!’

‘My brother makes the best porridge,’ he had answered. He’d taken a bite, and even in his memories the taste was so real that his real self tasted it. ‘It’s my cousin’s recipe.’

‘I wish I could eat it everyday, I’m so jealous,’ their laugh like a butterfly flutter.

‘It’s easy to make,’ he’s commented, looking at their eyes. So full of life, so full of color. ‘I can make it for you.’

‘Everyday?’ They asked, with sparkles in their eyes.

‘I guess so,’ he blushed. ‘If you really wanted to.’

‘Then, that would make us look like we are married,’ they said, and Emil almost spat out food that he was chewing.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he felt his heartbeat rise up, until it was everything he could hear. They laughed again, in that baby pink that made them look like a flower.

‘I kind of like that, don’t you?’

His stomach growled and churned. The held back the acid that threatened to com crawling up his throat into the floor, and moved the plate to the other side. Breathe in. Breathe out.

He got up, and walked towards the fridge. He placed the porridge next to the bottles of milk and butter, and closed the fridge.

He walked to his room, ignoring the concerned look in his brother’s eyes.

Now, he really was hungry, but at the same time he wasn’t. Nausea made its way into his brain, and felt it turn to mush. His stomach was eating his stomach, but was afraid that if he were to eat, everything would come out his mouth, mixed in with acid. Panting, he fell into the bed. Sweat damping the uniform he couldn’t bring himself to get out of, and simply laid on the bed.

He didn’t have the strength to move. So he stared at the ceiling. Everything resurfaced with this place. All the memories, all the songs, all the promises…

Don’t cry

What was he supposed to do?

His cellphone, from the pocket of his sweater, rang. He knew whose message it was. He glanced at the screen, and a pink lily next to her name, proved him right.

{Are you home safe?}

He didn’t want to answer. He didn’t feel like answering. It felt like an extra something he needed to do. In the back of his mind he knew that because she worried, he couldn’t help the feeling of wanting to escape. No one should care. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

Except it was.

He didn’t open the message, instead choosing to just read it in the screen. The feeling of being trapped in an invisible cage fell in his shoulders. Why couldn’t the feeling wash away like everything else did?

Another ring. A text was from Lily. Another one wasn’t. And the last one just confused him.

 Lily🌸: {I know you’re reading my messages, Emil.}

Kim 💕: (do you still have the ring?)

 For an instant, Emil forgot how to breathe. His fingers froze, and his eyes read and re read the message trying to convince himself that, yes. It was them. His lips trembled, as three burning letters carved themselves in his skin. He didn’t want to read it. Hadn’t he blocked them, hadn't he deleted their number?

He hadn’t. He was an idiot and he hadn't. He almost threw his cellphone to the other side of the room in despair.

But the last unread message caught his attention. It was someone whose name he didn’t recognize.

JiaLong : < hey do u have the calculus hw ? >

With everything else being an absolute mess, Emil didn’t exactly appreciate a message that asked for the homework he had done ages ago. Normally, he would have ignored it. It as just a random someone asking for something not really important. Nothing to be concerned about.

He stared at the other two messages, and then he stared at the clock. He didn’t feel like answering either of them, not on Friday evening, when all he wanted was to crawl into his bed and stop existing. So he, almost unconsciously, opened the messenger app and began typing.

[who are you ? ]