#I want to crush him like newspaper (affectionate) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

accidentally-in-fictional-love · 2 months

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🤔🕸️🎯 please these have all been so so good

I Don't Know How to Feel (But Someday I Might) - Random Bob Taylor Headcanons

Warnings: Mentions of a lot of canon events such as his suicide attempt, depression, self-esteem issues, and his kidnapping, as well as brief but nonspecific references to smut.

Notes: My first random~ I couldn't decide on which one(s) to do, so I just did all of them! As such, here's actual proper mini drabbles for 20 tropes, just for you and Bob 😊 The last time I wrote for him I just had a crush on him, now I love him, so I'm glad I get to explore all sides of him with this 😊 I ended up writing so much that I couldn't keep my bulleted list, so yeah here's a toooooon about the sweetest man who deserved the world and to heal QwQ

Angst: You're shocked when he finally tells you about his past. It's hard to get out, and he's mentally blocked out so much that he doesn't even remember half of it without help from newspaper clippings and taped recordings of that time, but still it all haunts him as he tries and fails to move on. He doesn't invite you over for the first few months you know each other, and when he finally does he seems very ashamed about his home and the state of it even though he cleaned up beforehand. You can still see the remains of the mazes he tried so desperately to scrub away so they wouldn't scare you off, and it doesn't as you ask but get no answer. Talking about it is hard even if he can't remember it all, and you have to do the work yourself after he trusts you with who he used to be. It's already been a year since his kidnapper was killed, and he was very wrongfully imprisoned, but knowing they were both gone is what makes him want to start healing even though he's afraid, and the day after you find out everything you can you just go to his house and hold him even as the mess already starts to build up again around the two of you.

Cute: Without the past weighing him down, you see that he's incredibly cute when he smiles, something he didn't do very often. There're a lot of cute things you never noticed before now that you're closer to him, such as the way he avoids your eye with a blush when you compliment him, how he treats everything he does with such care, how he links his pinky with your own when he's feeling affectionate but doesn't wanna be pushy. You tell him he's cute one night when you're laying in bed with him, your hand brushing aside his bangs, but he doesn't look appreciative of it as his small smile fades. He tells you not to tease him, he knows he's not, and you spend the rest of the night showing him how much you mean it. He tries to tell you how cute you are a few days later, his face red as he links your pinkies, and when you kiss the tip of his nose in thanks he looks utterly adorable as he blushes and tries to hide his small smile from you.

Dreams: He wants to leave town, but he's been trapped there for so long that he doesn't know how; he kept the house when his parents moved away, he never added anything for himself once they took everything, and he really wants to start over fresh with you. He confides all this to you as you sit on the floor together, watching movies on your laptop since he doesn't have a couch or a TV, and you just promise him all of it as you cradle his head in your lap and feel him hold your leg a little tighter.

Family: He hasn't spoken to his family in years, not after they moved away when they couldn't take being in town anymore, and they were more than okay with leaving him behind to fend for himself. It seems like they cared more about how the Incident had affected them more than it affected him, and he'd been alone for years until you finally became his neighbour and started talking to him. He still doesn't keep in contact with them, not knowing where they went or even if they were still alive, but he's okay with that now that you were his family. Sometimes you think about starting a proper family with him, but he still gets uncomfortable around kids who were his age when he was taken, but that's something you'll work through with him when the time comes.

Fear: It goes without saying, but even as he grew from a child into a man, the fear that they'd come back for him still persists. He sees them in everyone, his memories foggy and allowing them to exist in everyone, even you when you first move in. The house had been empty for ages, no one wanting to buy it with him living next door, not with his sneaking around and digging and fits in the middle of the night. He was the ghoul haunting the street, the monster scaring away all the guests and feeding the rumours even though he tried so hard to appear normal, all while he himself was afraid of the creatures lurking under his bed and waiting for him to slip up for one single second. So he avoided you when you started moving in, even though you were way too young to have taken him 20 years ago, because you were a stranger and you could be in on it, you could've found him for them. You didn't know until after he'd confessed everything to you, but when you were at work he'd broken into your home to make sure you weren't with them, risking it all for his own peace of mind, but after finding nothing to incriminate you it did help him sleep easier that night. It arose again when you noticed him watching you, him doing it enough times to get you to want to speak to him, and thoughts of ghouls and monsters crept through your head in your neighbours voices as he gave you a shaky hello and hurried back inside. You learned together that he was no monster and you were no Invisible Man when you invited him over to your place for a welcome party, everyone watching you as you offered him desserts and taste tested them for him when he was too afraid to risk it.

Fluff: Once he gets used to being touched, you discover that he's quite the cuddler. He finds such comfort in you that he ends up drawn to you without even realizing it, and you quickly get used to the feeling of him slotting against your back as you cook or do dishes, or against your side when you sit together and watch things. Sometimes it hits him that he's practically laying on you or stopping you from doing your tasks, and he closes himself off as he pulls away and apologizes for getting in your way, but you never fail to pull him right back and say you like his warmth. When you start spending the night together, you can tell he wants to hold you as you fall asleep but it feels like it's too much, so you offer him one of the stuffed animals he's gotten you just to get him used to the idea. You smile in your sleep when he eventually decides that it's you he wants to hold, and you let him envelope you on the nights where he's good, and when his fits crop up and he looks like he's in so much pain you just rest your head on his chest and hold his hand over your heart until he feels it beat even in his sleep. It lulls him every time, his breathing slowing and his body stilling as he wraps his arms around you and comes out of it naturally, awake just long enough to see you and know he was safe before falling asleep again.

Friends: Your friends don't like him, but you try to change that every single time you meet up. They've all heard the whispers, and his public arrest doesn't help, but you tell them about the real him, the one who's been healing with you there to help, but they don't believe it until after they see you together a few months into your relationship. He's different than before, healthier, stronger, more like himself again as he gives them all a polite greeting and sits close to you. You feel their stares the entire luncheon and you know he does too, but he doesn't run even when the arrest is brought up to your horror. He answers swiftly and gives no details, and the friend is chastised by everyone for asking, but he seems actually okay with it when before it would have been enough to make him shut down for the rest of the day. You can tell they see it more as time goes on and you remain together, their care for you extending to him when they see how happy he makes you in reality, that taking over their concern over the rumours. You know it'll still be a while before he sees them as his own friends, but it's a start when his next greeting is more genuine than forced as you all meet up for dinner.

Happiness: The word has been foreign to him for most of his life, his last remnants taken from him and numbed by the poison in his veins long ago, but you think he might be remembering how it feels when you glance at him one day and see him smiling even when he doesn't know you're looking. Usually he only does it to ease you, to make you feel better and show that he is indeed having fun with you, but you can see true happiness in him in the moments where he's facing away from you, when he's so content that the past can't get to him. You want to capture it forever but you know you can't, instead committing it all to memory as he watches the ducks eat bread by the waterside, the sky fill up with stars on cloudless nights, children play without a care in the world the way children should always be able to. You're always so busy watching him slowly reacquaint himself with the word that you don't even notice the moments where he's looking at you, when you're too busy to watch and lose yourself in something. That happiness is always the strongest, no amount of residual pain can sully it as he watches you jog over in the early morning for a kiss before work even in the rain, when you spot your favourite movie on the streaming platform you'd pulled up, it now added to the roster to your surprise, when you're so tired you can barely sit up until you're leaning on him and reaching for his blanket to warm your chilly shoulders. He doesn't think that before he met you he even knew the meaning of the word, but he might now as you catch him looking and blush under his gaze, and he blushes right back when you drop whatever it is you're doing to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

Hate: It takes you a long time to notice it, but while he doesn't hate much in his life, he definitely hates himself most of all. He shows it in the way he doesn't like looking at himself, or talking about himself even though he's trying to get better, but most of all you see it every time he looks at his bedroom door. Ever since you helped clean it up, the room remaining empty ever since the police confiscated everything inside, you've been trying to turn the room into something positive to help him forget everything he had to do to cope and solve his own mystery, but so far he's avoided every attempt with a new excuse. Finally he tells you he'd just rather board it off completely, let time take it like the rest of him, and you end up unable to say anything to placate him as he asks you to leave when you try and fail to help him. He lets himself fester after that, shutting you out for the longest time since you first met, and the next time he opens the door for you you can see that he'd regressed in your absence and his self-hatred. You don't leave as you help him paint over the mazes this time instead of just trying to wash them away, and he confesses to you that every time you bring up the room he remembers everything that he did, not what they did to him, all the wrong he convinced himself was right, how much he hurt those families even though he was just trying to help them. He hates himself so much for it, what they made him into, and he wouldn't be surprised if you hated him to for it too, but you can't, you never could, and you promise him that as you lock the room until he's ready.

Hopes: He's never hoped for much in his life, too stuck in his own head and his past and the mazes to dare hold onto something like that, but you find him saying the word more and more as time goes on. He hopes it's sunny today, he hopes they still have that sweater he saw the last time he went shopping and he hopes it's still on sale as well, he hopes he'll get to see you later. Before he used to use more neutral words, he guessed that rain was coming, it was rational that the sweaters sold out since he waited, he didn't blame you if you had something else to do later, you didn't have to come over. It showed you that he was trying, letting himself want to find the positives in things, instead of just accepting everything that happened as it was. You know for sure that he's changing when he cups your cheek and whispers that he hopes you'll still be there in the morning, your legs intertwined in bed, and you tell him you hope that he still wants you around a month from now before he says that he'll still want you a year from now, two even, and when you try and up it to three he kisses you and hopes for forever.

Hurt/Comfort: He still has bad days despite things getting so much better, and for a long time he hides that from you as he locks himself away and tries not to let himself fall back into old habits. It takes him months before you get a call on one of these days, and he takes so long to answer your hello that you wonder if maybe you're being prank called. Finally he replies, and his voice is small and broken as he tells you he's not okay, he can't do it anymore, and you race over the second the line goes dead. Since you're neighbours it takes only a minute to run to his door, your shoes forgotten at home as you use your spare key to get in, and when you find him curled up in the living room surrounded by the scattered pages of his mazes and memories you have to make sure there's no weapons around to go with it. He'd been on suicide watch after his arrest since he'd grabbed an officer's gun and attempted to shoot himself with it, but since the safety was on and he was too upset to notice they were able to stop him before he could figure it out. His fingers are covered in ink and his cheeks are wet with tears and streaks from where he'd touched his face, most of it around his eyes as he'd wiped at them. You instantly take him by the hand and lead him to your place, his head down as he avoids any gazes although there are none, and when you're back at home you sit him down at your kitchen table and clean him up. He doesn't tell you what set all this off, and you don't ask, you know he'll speak when he's ready. When he's all cleaned up you just take him to bed and play white noise on your laptop, something that will clear his mind until the overexertion puts him to sleep. Once he's out, you return back to his place to gather up all the papers and tuck them safely away, knowing that he won't be ready to finally get rid of them but not wanting him to see them when he gets home again. You find him reaching for you in his sleep, and when he wakes up and feels you in his arms it brings him so quickly to tears he knows that he can never do this alone again. After that he always tells you when it gets bad, and you're always there to comfort him as he mumbles every bad thought in his head until he's clear again.

Love: Neither of you ever say the word out loud, both too afraid to scare the other off with it, but you feel it in everything you do. You feel it in the home cooked meals you make for him, in the way he keeps picking things up for you that remind him of you while he's out shopping, in the way he trusts you enough with a spare key to his home as you give him your own right back. You hear people say it all the time on the street or at work or in the movies you watch together, and it's always on the tip of your tongue, but he hasn't been loved in a long time, he isn't even sure if he parents still loved him when he finally got home after those three weeks, not when they'd already buried and mourned their little boy. So you don't say it, keep it locked up inside your mouth as it claws and screams to get out and tell him when you wake up and find him looking like an angel beside you. You wish you could erase every bad thing that'd ever happened to him, he never deserved any of it, but you also don't even dare to dream about the version of him he could've been when he's already perfect the way he is. He was never broken, he never needed to be fixed, but you think he might've fixed you with the way he presses his lips so gently against your bare skin, looks at you with eyes that whisper how perfect he thinks you are, even when you tell him everything that happened in your own life that made you think you didn't deserve his kindness. You're helping him plant flowers in his yard to replace the memories of what he'd buried there before, the grass still dead from when it'd all been dug up and left to gather snow and rain and other painful memories as he stared out his window at it. You're covered in dirt, and already you've slipped and landed hard on your butt and gotten mud on your favourite pair of jeans, and you aren't even sure if you'd grabbed flowers or vegetables as you stare at the labelless packets in your hands, and the words tumble out of his mouth all the same as he crouches down next to you. You almost miss it at first, he'd said it right as you tore a packet open and hoped for the best, but he repeats it just as easily as you turn to face him and ask what he'd said, and your tears fall into the pits along with everything else to help the area heal as you can finally say it back.

Music/Dancing: He doesn't listen to music often, sometimes the tunes remind him of songs he'd heard while he was captured, so you're careful with your music when you're together, just in case. Eventually, he finds some new stuff that sound like songs he might've liked before the Incident, and when you make him up a playlist of old songs that might've been his favourites you get to see what happy nostalgia looks like on him as he lights up and remembers a time before the poison. He isn't much of a dancer, whenever you try to get him to join you he just gives you a nervous smile and shakes his head, but sometimes you manage to get him to slow dance with you, with your head against his shoulder and his hands on your waist, an adult version of all the school dances he missed out in his fear.

Platonic: He's only ever had platonic relationships in his life, they were far and few between but until he meets you he never even considered anything more. Platonic is safe, it's normal, it's polite. It keeps people at a distance he thinks, no invitations to give or accept since he isn't dating the other person, he sees no need to get that close. He views these friends as acquaintances, just barely above strangers, people he knows the names of but isn't sure if he can fully trust after a lifetime of being alone. He knows you might be the one when he feels differently about you compared to the others, when he wants to call you his partner and not just his friend, although he doesn't believe you'd ever want the same, not with him.

Romantic: Once he gets a grasp of relationships and being wanted, he surprises you by being quite the romantic. It's all based on what he sees others do, having no actual experience with it as he fought with his trauma, so at first it's a lot of roses and pet names and hand holding, which is very nice coming from him, but you also want him to be more himself when he tries instead of just trying to act normal. You secretly urge him to do so by showing him your own version of romance, which is different from what he's gathered from others, and one night he admits to you that he doesn't know what to do because you're so different when it comes to your dates and what you clearly do want. You just kiss his forehead and tell him to show his love in the ways that feel right to him next time, not to everyone else, and the next date night you find a bunch of handpicked daisies along with a new stuffed animal for your growing collection, because he saw both on his way to work and they reminded him of you.

Smut: It doesn't happen often, but sometimes when his head is clear enough to allow himself to feel desire, which he tends to avoid because he's still getting used to innocent physical touch with you, he'll go over to your place and initiate things slowly and carefully. Your patience is endless with him on these nights, and sometimes it doesn't even go anywhere if he gets too overwhelmed, other times it's over before it begins because he's not used to this and every touch is too much and not enough at the same time. When you finally do sleep together, you spend the whole time making sure he feels safe and okay, and in the end he cries as you press gentle kisses all over his face and torso as he holds you so tight against him like he'll never let you go.

Spicy: Likewise, things aren't often spicy between you, but once he does become more okay with his own desires and knowing he has permission to touch you, he'll sneak in some neck kisses and press himself up against you just to hear you laugh. More often than not he eventually gets used to casual makeouts when you're over for movie night, and while it doesn't get far you feel satisfied enough to know he trusts you enough to let it physically show, even if it does make him blush if you mention it at all.

Sweet: As your dates come more often and you get the official title of Partner, you find that he really loves visiting new places with you that he always wanted to go to but never has. Sometimes it's as simple as the flower shop he drove by or the park on a non-busy day, and sometimes it's further places like the beach or even the aquarium in the next town. Sometimes it's even places he should've gone when he was a kid but missed out on because he couldn't afford it or didn't feel safe enough to go to, not without one of his parents there with him, and you love the look of joy on his face as he gets to experience mini golf and water parks and a live show in the park for the first time. You can't leave his side as he does, he can take care of himself for sure, he's done so for years, but having you there keeps that small part of him that thinks he'll be taken again at bay despite being a grown man and easily able to stop anyone who tries. It's the one part of him that refuses to acknowledge his growth and who he was now, but you find that going out and staying with him helps him forget just enough that it eases up on its own, and you're happy to receive a small dolphin plushie from one of his aquarium visits without you because he loves the calmness and beauty of the place.

Random (Dreams): He often has nightmares, which you completely understand once he reveals everything to you, but you don't understand how bad it is until the first time you spent the night. It took him forever to actually want to fall asleep, a million excuses for the two of you to stay up ready on his lips each time you felt yourself get sleepy, and you only get a couple hours in before he jerks so hard next to you that it wakes you instantly back up. His fits are subtle, the kick a bad one that doesn't come again, but you can see on his face how much pain he's in as he shifts and rolls and clutches at your blankets. You don't wake up until you notice that he's crying, his eyes wide and pupils blown in the dark as he looks for his attacker and sees you leaning over him instead. He hit you only once, clearly in self-defense as he almost slid right off the bed, and you don't raise your voice or try and stop him as he switches to cowering instead when you don't disappear. You give him space and let him realize that the reason he wasn't home was because he was with you, letting him catch up to everything as you whispered softly that he was okay, he was safe, they were long gone, and even though you didn't get to fall asleep until dawn you were perfectly fine with that as you turned the lights back up and just laid with him until the felt okay enough to pass out with the rising sun.

Unlisted (Healing): It took him a long time to be able to let go of his old habits, but it gets easier with each visit you find when there's a bunch of new stuffed animals waiting to find homes, his old room cleared of the bins and therefore no longer needing them. You took the first one, and together you dropped off the rest at a local shelter for the kids to pick through, and the next time you see one on his table you find out that it's for him, something he had as a child and wanted to have again now that he knew you'd support that. It takes even longer for the mazes to stop, but together you find that if he draws them on your skin and traces the way out it helps. The association with you and your softness and gentle words makes them less painful, comforting even since they're not stuffed into endless notebooks and covering his walls, and when he's done you let him wash it all away and kiss the places where they used to be, no more maze, he can go home. You find out that home slowly becomes anywhere he's with you as he holds your drying arm to his cheek and looks content instead of afraid.

#Ray's Headcanons #Ray's Requests #david dastmalchian #Bob Taylor #Bob Taylor x reader #was looking for a song to finish these out too since most of them were done in silence at work #put on What Was I Made For and my god I was so choked up that final hour I love him so much I need him to be happy and okay

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oneirataxia-girl · 7 months

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Relationship asks!! # 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 10, 12, 15, 20, 21, 36, 39, 45, 48! I realize this might get a little long but I want answers for both Keller and Midlaw hehehe

hadley lovely you're so right this was long af 😭 so I split this into one post for Keller (this one) and another for Midlaw (link here!) but without further ado, let's jump in! tagging the other op anime girlie @auxiliarydetective bc I don't wanna spoil the others

1. How did they meet and what were their first impressions of each other?

Sabaody arc, when the Heart, Kid, and Strawhat pirates leave the auction house and they're surrounded by Marines. Killer jumps in and takes out one of them just as the man is about to attack Kenji's unknowing back; cue Kenji's eyes widening like dinner plates watching Killer land on the ground in slow motion and Killer thinking wow this guy is so dumb (affectionate) like my captain when we were young KID TF ARE YOU TOYING WITH THESE MARINES FOR WE GOTTA GO-

2. What kind of dynamic do they have with each other?

smartass x dumbass, sunshine protector x sunshine, "I'd die for you" "who said you could die??? WHO SAID YOU COULD DIE KILLER I NEED NAMES"

3. What do others think of them?

Kid is like ???????? at Killer's choice of a boyfriend, but Killer's taste is all his fault because Kenji like him in some ways (much to Kenji's horror but we'll get to that another time) and Killer is basically programmed to like that type; the other Kid Pirates, after grilling Kenji about his intentions of their beloved second-in-command, are pretty supportive of the two; Mari approved of Killer before they even got together; the other Strawhats also become fond of him, Franky and Usopp are the (joking) exception since both of them had to put up with Kenji ranting about Killer's weapons for weeks after Wano, Jimbei is the fishman Kenji goes to ask about having a crush and it’s very fluffy, then Brook, Sanji and Chopper pop in and it dissolves into teasing jabs, Robin mentions offhandedly to Nami about Kenji’s not-so-subtle attempt to ask after Killer in the day’s newspaper and Nami is iffy on whether the other pirate is good enough, but keeps those thoughts to herself until she can access Killer’s potential herself. Zoro pretends to be asleep through all this but he’s glad that Kenji doesn’t know about his fight with Killer as Kamazo (and has no plans of telling him that), and Luffy’s just glad that his crew is getting along with Jaggy’s

5. Is their joint future bright or bleak?

uhhhhhhhh... ideally yes. but it might have to change for canon events, but I do think they get a happy ending

7. Do they have a desire to protect each other?

YES. Killer is of the opinion that Kenji can't fight, and although that's objectively Not True, Kenji's combat levels are a lot lower than Killer's, so when their crews fight together, Killer tries to keep an eye on Kenji. Kenji is also fiercely protective of his Kil, so when anyone makes a snide remark about Killer's time on Wano, the poor sod has to face a very angry red ball of fluff (Kid) and a similarly furious, gun-cocking blacksmith

10. Who would win in a fight?

Killer. no diff, if they're forced to fight (which would be the only scenario either of them would raise a weapon at the other), Kenji would be out without question

12. Who is a better caregiver?

it’s a close one but Kenji. Killer is good at caring for everyone but himself, but Kenji is a firm believer of "you can't take care of anyone if you don't care for yourself" so Kenji is the deliverer of sunshine and smiles, and he's mentally okay while doing it!

15. Who has better fashion sense?

I really wanna say Kenji because he is the crew's secondary fashionista (behind Nami but before Sanji), but I believe that Killer's polka dot era is going to come back and that Killer was iconic af. so for now it's a tie

20. What's the worst thing about them teaming up?

Killer would constantly check up on Kenji, which could impact his focus and allow the opponent to get some hits that normally Killer could block. Killer's checkups and possible injuries could also affect Kenji's aim, as he might abandon logic and charge at the enemy without even loading his guns

21. What's the best thing about them teaming up?

if Killer does close range combat while Kenji takes care of mid-range, with both of them equipped with a talkie-walkie version of a transponder snail to communicate, then they could deal some serious damage to anyone facing them. other than the battlefield, they're also a pretty fire duo when it comes to making drinks (Killer watches in loving astonishment as Kenji comes up with the weirdest mixes that always turn out delicious); if both of them + Sanji are in the kitchen, the crews just know they'll be eating and drinking well

36. What is a gift one would give to the other?

Kenji would give him little metal decorations like bracelets or brooches with his mask's design integrated into the pieces. Killer would buy fun trinkets when the Victoria Punk docks on islands to show his boyfriend when they meet again

39. What's an inside joke they'd have together?

"when will Kid and Mari and Trafalgar finally kiss, I wonder?" "my sister has WAY better taste than those ruffians, Kil" "Ken, I'm one of Kid's 'ruffians'" "but you're the best ruffian to ruff, and Mari doesn't settle for anything other than the best, so she's definitely not getting with Jaggy or Tra-guy or both of them"

a ton of angst, lots of yelling, and three confessions later...

"so..." "don't. just lemme mope in peace, Kil"

Killer never lets Kenji forget this. it later becomes a joke that Kenji is actively terrible at predicting romantic relationships and he has fun making the wildest matches ever

45. If one of them was in trouble, what would the other do?

look... all I'm saying is if a guy named "Massacre Soldier" Killer has a boyfriend who apparently once used a person's blood to make his bullets, I would think twice before trying to hurt either one of them. rip(ieces) to those who do otherwise but I value my life

48. If they swapped bodies, how would they handle it?

first, Kenji would claim this as the reason why Mari should leave Law (Mari's typical poker face nearly breaks at the sight of big beefy Killer waving his arms around in typical Kenji fashion); then he'd get Killer to teach him how to use his Punishers, which leads to Killer strapping the blades to Kenji's body to prevent Kenji from hurting himself, which leads to a pouting Kenji, which leads to Killer petting his own head (wow Ken wasn't lying his hair really feels nice in these hands), which leads to Midlaw & co stifling their snorts at the sight of a (compared to Killer) smol twig of a guy stroking back the hair of someone twice his size that practically has a raincloud over his head. let's just say that after this, Law had to endure quite a few dirty glances and passive aggressive remarks from his brother-in-law for a while

give me a number + relationship and I'll tell you something about that relationship!

#as you can see i adore them very much #got a smile on my face answering this ksasdasd #idk when they say killer's probably dead #aren't the kid pirates rampaging on elbaf??#i'm on my “kenji doesn't like kidlaw” agenda today #as in “kenji doesn't think they're good enough for his sis” kinda way tho #meanwhile mari has her stamp of approval on killer a few days after meeting him in wano and is like “pls bf up my brother he needs it”#killer has no idea what he did to deserve the approval but he will take it #i still don't have kenji's personality pinned down so some of these might change #but i really dig the idea of a sunshine character who's silly and dramatic and is smart but also dumb af #these tags are getting longer help #ship: keller #otp: tba #alvita's answers #hadley my beloved

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charlotteswriting · 3 years

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high school au: how would kokichi, nagito, shuichi, rantaro, hajime, kiibo, and taka act if someone from a different class also likes their crush. (ex: shuichi's crush is also liked by makoto from class 78th)

I feel like it's been so long since I wrote for them 🥺 This request was in my inbox for ages and I think I am finally motivated enough to write :) Let's get started!! -Mod Kaede

You're liked by: Fuyuhiko, because I say so

Kokichi is super into PDA in general, but whenever Fuyuhiko is around he just clings onto you even more

Kokichi showers you with compliments in front of him and Fuyuhiko is just: facepalms

Kokichi has no limits... He'll even tease Fuyuhiko for liking you and he almost got punched by him at some point

Fuyuhiko is so done with Kokichi's possessive behaviours, he just sighs

Fuyuhiko probably cringes hard and leaves

You're liked by: Junko, because I think that would be chaotic

If it was somebody else, Nagito would simply give up on you

But it's Junko fucking Enoshima, there's no way Nagito's going to lose you to her!

You two were having so much fun and bam! Junko is here to steal you from him and ruin his mood

"Sorry but Y/n and I are in the middle of something," He'd say something like that while holding your arm so you don't leave him

They argue. A lot. I am not even talking about hope or despair, they're fighting over you and who deserves you more.

You're liked by: Just like the post suggests, Makoto

Shuichi was already awkward when you two were alone, it's even more awkward when Makoto gets involved also

I am not saying Makoto isn't awkward though, both of them are awkward around you

Before Shuichi's insecurities find him, his friends boost his ego so he doesn't take a step back. Go for it, Shuichi!

Shuichi and Makoto talk about you so often, you are just so good for them. Even though both of them are so kind people, they don't want to lose you to the other.

You're liked by: Mondo

Rantaro knew Mondo took a liking of you from the death stares he got when you were spending time with him or Mondo

He knows Mondo is trying his best to be gentle around you, but he has no intention to let him have you

Mondo's insults or threats don't scare him, he just smiles in his carefree way and tells him to slow down a bit

However, Rantaro is way more affectionate with you than usual because he gets jealous around Mondo

I just... Know for a fact Mondo went Rantaro for advice at some point, because Rantaro knows how to treat his S/O very well.

You're liked by: Byakuya.

I think you can tell Hajime is having a hard time confessing his feelings to you

Not only he gets insulted a lot, Byakuya can sue him

But his friends (Nekomaru and Akane, probably) encourages him so he doesn't give up on you!!

It's really hard for him to talk to you, so he chooses private places so he can have his peaceful time with you all he wants

But Byakuya wanting to keep an eye on you 24/7 doesn't help him at all

Good for him since you care more about personality!!

You're liked by: Gundham, hmm, interesting

Kiibo studies human emotions, but he couldn't tell Gundham also likes you

Gundham insults him and tells Kiibo to back off in his unique language, but Kiibo's vocabulary isn't that wide 💔💔💔

All Kiibo wants is hold your hand and Gundham is there to throw his devas at him

He doesn't know where's that hatred is coming from, but he tries his best

Miu probably added him more functions so he can "defend" himself. Sigh all he wants to be around you

You're liked by: Korekiyo. Battle of Kiyos!

Both of them have such hard working spirits so their battle will be legendary.

Both of them will try to impress you. And you're interested in their hobbies.

Taka takes this very seriously but he's taking things really slow, so it gets on Mondo's nerves

"My bro told me to take you on a date or I'm gonna lose you.. Anyway, are you free?"

Sigh don't think Kiyo is going to let them be, he'll be there, too. Just to keep an eye on you, you know. (Even though you won't see him holding his newspaper upside down)

Hhh these are rlly messy but hope they're alright! I wanted to write this request for soooo long now, hope these turned out good, sweetheart! 💕

1K notes · View notes

luvidzy · 3 years

Text

☆ genre: fluff

☆ pairing: kim seungmin x reader

☆ summary: an anonymous person is writing poetry and you are determined to get to the bottom of it

☆ word count: 3.2k

You honestly hadn’t even noticed at first. You weren’t really into the school paper, so you didn’t read it very often unless Felix decided there was something interesting you just had to know. Which is exactly how you found out about your secret admirer posting about you in the paper.

“Y/N, you have to see this!” Felix’s voice rang out as he slid into the seat next to you. You looked up, less than thrilled to be interrupted in the middle of trying to study for your Greek Classics test tomorrow, but you couldn’t stop yourself from setting your pencil down at Felix’s excited expression.

“Yes, Felix?” You asked, trying to hide the exasperation in your voice. If Felix noticed, he didn’t let him affect his excitement as he pulled the school paper out from under his arm, unrolled it and smacked it down on the table in front of you.

Your eyes scanned the front page, trying to figure out what Felix was so eager to show you, but nothing stood out. There was an article about the softball team, an article about an upcoming concert by 3racha, and a column that was talking about new things to do on campus. Nothing particularly interesting, and also nothing that you hadn’t seen before in the paper.

“So I was looking at the paper, and something caught my eyes. Come on, you have to read it,” Felix urged, his eyes sparkling as his freckles crinkled beside his eyes. You rested your forearms on the table, signalling to him that you were listening. Felix began to flip through the pages, before he landed on one of the latter ones.

His finger pointed out a small section of writing in the upper right hand corner. You squinted slightly, bringing the paper closer so you could look at the words. From what you could tell it, was a small three line poem that anyone would overlook if you weren’t paying attention. Lucky enough for you, Lee Felix always paid attention to the paper.

she sits so sweetly

sweater too big on her back

perfect to me

Eyes wondering over the black lettering, you felt your eyebrows furrow. There was no signature and not even a hint of who the poem might be addressed to. It seemed so out of place, yet your curiosity was growing every second.

“Does anyone know who wrote it?” You asked, turning to Felix. The blonde shook his head, pouting slightly.

“I asked Seungmin, but he said that they had just found it on one of the desks in an envelope with a note asking them to publish it,” Felix explained. You sighed, before sliding the paper away from you in favor of getting back to your studying.

“Well, keep me updated. Maybe next time we’ll know who this mysterious poet is, or maybe who he’s writing to.” Felix nodded eagerly, before pulling the paper back towards him and opening it up to read while you continued to study.

Of course, the poem wasn’t dropped there as Felix brought it up to your friends again that night as you hung out in Chan and Changbin’s apartment.

“It’s romantic, for sure. But I feel like it would be even more romantic if the person who it was for actually KNEW it was for them, ya know?” Jisung said as he threw a cheeto in the air and tried to catch it in his mouth. You stifled a giggle behind your hand as the cheeto flew back down and hit him in the face, causing him to pout.

“Maybe they wanted to test the waters? See if the person responded well before they actually did anything that might give them away?” Jeongin suggested, before stuffing some M&Ms into his mouth. Seungmin shrugged as he leaned back into his chair.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see if we get any more envelopes.” You sighed, smiling slightly as you leaned back into the couch you were sitting on.

“How nice it must be to have someone write poetry about you. I don’t think anyone would ever do that for me,” you exclaimed dramatically, throwing a hand onto your forehead for effect. Minho snorted as he threw a piece of candy at you, causing you to shriek slightly.

“Maybe, if you weren’t such a dramatic bitch, people would actually fall for you.” You stuck your tongue out at the older male, crossing your arms with a pout on your face. He was probably right, but there was no need for him to be rude about it.

The next time the mystery poet wrote in the paper, you found out about it way too late at night. Your phone began to buzz incessently as you tried to focus on your paper, to no avail. Finally you gave in and picked up the phone.

“What?”

“Y/N, where are you right now?” Felix’s voice was rushed and enthusastic, and it took all your strength not to groan. How could he be so energetic this late at night, when all you wanted to be doing was sleeping instead of studying for you stupid exam. Seungmin, who had been joining you in your study nights the past few days, looked up with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m at the library with Seungmin. Why?” You replied, rolling your eyes to Seungmin who just snickered. He knew from personal experience that the only person who would give you this reaction so late at night was Felix.

“There was another poem posted in the newspaper! I was gonna tell you earlier but I couldn’t get a hold of you. Stay where you are, I’m on my way.” Felix rushed, before hanging up. You took the phone away from your ear, before looking to Seungmin with an accusing glare.

“There was another poem and you didn’t think to tell me?” You exclaimed, cringing as the librarian shushed you.

“I didn’t think you cared that much. Besides, why would I take away Felix’s gossip? What kind of friend would I be if I did that?” Seungmin chuckled at the pointed glare you sent his way, before you turned back to your paper to try and do some work before Felix got there.

You managed only another 2 paragraphs before Felix came bustling through the doors, trying to be as quiet and fast as possible. He finally crashed into the chair beside you, spreading the paper out before you. You shut your laptop as your eyes scanned the page, trying to find any sight of the poem.

“It’s a good one this time. You’ll have to see it,” Felix said, his grin more of a smirk as he flipped to the next page and pointed his finger at the lines of text that had been imprinted on the page. Your eyes immediately trained on it, scanning over the words in every line like a woman who’s seeing for the first time.

The girl in room 204

with the world on her shoulder

but a smile on her face.

I wish I could be your Atlas

and hold the sky up long enough

for you to take a breath and relax.

But despite the circumstances,

despite her exhaustion from

sleepless nights in the library,

her eyes glow as she talks

even if it is about the most mundane things.

I can’t help but stare and smile,

wondering if she will ever notice

that she means everything to me

and that I would gladly be condemned

to a lifetime of suffering if it meant

taking your pain for just a little while.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the poem, before you noticed the small print that was sitting underneath the beautiful lines.

-to the girl in room 204 of Levantar Hall

Your heart began to pound and you could practically feel the blood rushing to your face as you reread the tiny tag, the realization only setting in after the 5th time looking it over.

“Holy shit! Felix, these poems are addressed to me!” You exclaimed, turning to look at the bright smile of your best friend. He nodded eagerly as you turned back to the poem, rereading it with this newfound knowledge.

“And you said no one would ever write poetry for you,” Felix teased. You hit him lightly, before taking the paper and shoving it into your bag. You grabbed your laptop, slung your bag over your shoulder, before looking at the boys you were sitting with.

“Sorry gentleman, I have some sleuthing to do,” you said, before rushing out of the library, completely ignorant of the adoration in Seungmin’s eyes as he watched you go.

You spent the next few days waking up extra early and camping out outside of the newspaper office to try and catch the mystery person in action of dropping off their envelope, but you were always met with disappointment as Seungmin came in every morning with no sign of the admirer.

You were a bit bummed about it until you decided to read this week's newspaper and came upon a startling revelation.

Another poem.

so close yet so far

she would never know my love

it’s not my nature

You immediately called Felix, who agreed to meet up with you at the nearest cafe to discuss the poem. It wasn’t until you were sitting at a booth, coffees sitting in front of you that a revelation decided to hit you.

“Felix! I’m an idiot!”

“I mean, I know. But how so this time?” Felix said, causing you to throw a playful glare his way. You looked at the poem, before pointing at the poem in the paper and reading the words aloud.

“Okay?” Felix questioned, an eyebrow raised. You rolled your eyes at the thought of having to explain it all to Felix.

“I know whoever this is, Felix! The words insinuate it’s someone that I know, and someone who is not very affectionate with me!” You said proudly, happy that you had managed to narrow the list down. Felix nodded in understanding.

“So, that leaves only a few people, right? Cause all of your friends are pretty affectionate, outside of Minho and Seungmin, right?” Felix said, and you nodded, before freezing. Minho…. or Seungmin. You didn’t want to immediately jump to any conclusions, but you hadn’t seen anyone outside of the newspaper room outside of Seungmin and, being honest, you kind of wanted it to be him. You had had a crush on Kim Seungmin since freshman year of college and it would be like something out of a novel if it turned out to be him.

“Earth to Y/N! What’s the plan now?” Felix brought you from your daydream as you took a sip of the coffee in front of you. You furrowed your brows in thoughts, before her eyes lit up.

“I know! Felix, I just need to mention something incredibly specific to each of them! Any good writer would take advantage of the creative inspiration and incorporate it into their poem!” you announced, quite proud of yourself for coming up with the idea. Felix thought for a moment before he nodded.

“That’s so stupid, it might just work.” You pouted at his comment, before immediately looking at your phone, seeing the time, and stumbling to get up and rush out.

“I completely forgot I need to meet up with Minho for our project! Phase 1 starts right now!” You rushed out of the coffee shop, Felix laughing behind you as you nearly ran into the door due to your excitement.

True to your plan, while with Minho you brought up the extremely intricate topic of Andromeda and Perseus, a tale which you had learned about a month ago in your Greek Mythology class. You loved the story and thought it was incredibly interesting and a great muse if Minho turned out to be the secret admirer in the paper.

You didn’t see Seungmin for a few days, but that gave you time to think of the perfect topic to bring up to him. You wanted him to be your secret poet so badly and you wanted to make sure you gave him something that would definitely end up inspiring the next poem. It finally hit you as you sat with Seungmin and Jeongin in one of your University’s common areas.

“We learned about the story of Icarus in my Greek class the other day,” you started, making sure to look at Seungmin and see if he was listening to you. Sure enough he perked up, looking up to show you that he was taking in the words that were coming from your lips.

“Essentially, Icarus was the son of this great inventor, Daedalus, and they were both imprisoned in a tower. Daedalus made them 2 sets of wings to escape the tower, but they were made out of feathers and wax. When they were flying to escape, Icarus decided to not heed his fathers words and flew too close to the sun. The wax in his wings melted and he drowned. It’s a sad story, but it tells a tale of curiosity and how being too curious can lead to your downfall,” you explained, noticing how Seungmin had stopped writing as you told your story. Jeongin stared at you with a questioning glance.

“Why would Icarus fly so high if he knew he would die?”

“Well, I guess that depends on how you look at it. Some say he was just foolish and brash, but I personally like to think Icarus knew what would happen to him, but decided that the ability to be free and live in the excitement for even a moment was worth the consequences he knew would befall him.” Jeongin nodded, obviously thinking about the story. Satisfied with your work, you looked back down at your work, not noticing how Seungmin had flipped to a blank page in his notebook and was jotting down what seemed to be lines of poetry.

It was a few more weeks until another poem was posted, and you were starting to be concerned that the admirer had given up and decided to stop. That was until Felix, as expected, rushed into your dorm one day, completely scaring you out of your concentrated state.

“The poem was posted! And you’ll never believe it, but your plan actually worked!” Your stomach flip flopped as you realized that the moment of truth was about to be upon you. The minute you read the poem that laid in the ink of the school newspaper, you would know who was your secret admirer. Felix handed it to you and as your eyes went to the words, you silently prayed that it was the man you so desperately wanted it to be.

I am Icarus,

and she is the sun.

I don’t dare get to close,

even if her gleam,

bright against my rickety feathers,

warms me from the inside out.

I can never tell her how I feel,

I can never say a word,

but if I could I’d tell her she is golden to me.

That she is the heavens,

and I am just a mortal man

begging for her to let me in,

begging for her to let me love her,

begging for her to let me praise her,

because God knows that if I could

I would never stop spilling words of devotion to her.

I am Icarus,

and she is the sun.

My faux wings melt like candle wax

as I force myself closer to her,

because I’d rather fall out of her atmosphere,

then never experience her at all.

Your mouth dropped open as you finished reading the carefully crafted poem, your cheeks heating up and your mind running a mile a minute. It was Seungmin. Your secret admirer was Seungmin.

You rushed out of your dorm, the paper abandoned on your bed as Felix called after you, but you didn’t have any time to stop and explain. You glanced at your phone, realizing that if you made haste, you could catch Seungmin alone in the newsroom before he left for the day. You weaved through the halls of the journalism building, the only thing on your mind getting to the boy who had written some of the most beautiful words about you.

Seungmin was standing outside of the door, locking up the room for the day, when you barrelled down the hallways and basically tackled him into a hug. He grunted as your arms wrapped around him and he stood there for a moment, completely unsure of what to do in this situation. You didn’t give him any time to react though, pulling back and staring at him with a smile rivalling the sun.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Seungmin asked, genuinely confused. He had a long day and you weren’t making any sense right now. You rolled your eyes playfully, before looking at him with a smirk.

“That you were Icarus and I was the sun.” Seungmin’s mouth dropped open as you repeated the words he had written back to you. His usually sharp mind was completely blank as he tried to figure out what to say in response to you, but once again you didn’t give him time to think as you pulled him in for another hug.

This time, Seungmin allowed himself to wrap his arms around you in return and give you a squeeze. Months of pining after you and he was finally doing what he had fantasized about so many times. You nuzzled yourself into his neck, giggling as he let out a soft gasp, completely unused to the physical affection you were showing him.

“So, does this mean the poems worked?” Seungmin joked, his cheeks red as you pulled back again. You let out a laugh, nodding happily as you kept your arms slung around his neck.

“Of course! To be honest, I’ve had a crush on you for a while now. I was really glad when I found out it was you,” you said, staring at him sheepishly. He smiled softly at you, before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“What gave it away though?” He asked. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“You really think I just threw all that philosophical stuff about Icarus out there for nothing? I was hoping you’d pick up the clue and use it for some creative inspiration,” you said. Seungmin nodded, feigning a look of impressiveness.

“That’s pretty smart for you.” You punched him lightly in the arm, eliciting a chuckle from the boy as he grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers together, leading you down the hallway.

“So, does this mean your poems are going to stop?” you asked, unable to hide the pout in your voice. Seungmin smiled a little bit, giddy that you liked his poems so much.

“I mean, at least the public poems. But I’ll write you all the poems you want in private. But they will be for your eyes only. Can’t let anyone know that I went soft for you,” he said jokingly. You let out a laugh, squeezing his hand as he laughed along with you.

Honestly, you didn’t mind if the poems were public or private. It was more than enough for you that Seungmin was holding your hand right now, speaking words of love that held more meaning than any poem about Icarus ever could.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #kim Seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin imagines #kim seungmin fluff #seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin imagines #seungmin fluff #stray kids x reader

131 notes · View notes

link4eva · 3 years

Text

Kiro’s Seeking Date Translation [CN]

Hey, everyone! Just a couple of things before you begin reading. I don’t actually know any Chinese so this translation was done through the power of Google Translate. A HUGE shout-out to @keliosyfan and @cheesy09 for helping me with edits and revising. Thank you!!! 💛

Here’s a link to the date video uploaded by @keliosyfan that you can follow along with.

Also, here’s a link to the call that comes before the date.

*TW: I feel like I should note that this date has mentions of human trafficking.*

This translation contains spoilers for a date that has not yet been released to the ENG server. If you wish to not be spoiled, please don’t look below the cut.

Hope you enjoy~ 💛

*Spoilers for future content below!*

[First Part]

??: What are you doing kidnapping her, idiot?!

??: She has been with Helios for so many years, she must be his most important woman.

??: With this woman, we can make him write off his debts and also crush his spirit as a gift to those foreigners.

In the dimness, two male voices drifted into my ears.

My hands were tied behind me, and the rope bore through the cloth on my body. The rough and wet touch made me very uncomfortable.

??: If he really cared about this woman, would he always keep her by his side? Tell everyone that she is his weakness?

??: This woman is a target he bought four years ago to get rid of trash and see who in the city found him unpleasant!

Although I was very certain that these people were telling the truth, after hearing those words, my heart still couldn’t help but ache.

??: This is the end of the matter. This woman can’t stay.

??: Sooner or later, that beast Helios will know what you have done. He would never let us get away with it. *Changed some wording*

??: This person has just been taken away, and Helios won’t be so fast.

The icy sound of a knife unsheathing made me clench my teeth. My whole body shook.

The hemp rope had been cut with the blade hidden in my sleeve, and I waited for the opportunity as it gradually approached.

Even though I closed my eyes, I could always see that person’s face and a pair of indifferent blue eyes.

If I died, would he be sad?

??: Hope... is the most precious thing in this world.

??: Do you want to go with me?

I can’t die yet.

But just before I acted, someone ended up being faster than me.

With a “shink”, it seemed that a sharp weapon pierced the glass and embedded itself into the wooden board. The sudden noise made my heart constrict.

??: Don’t open your eyes.

After an extremely cold and commanding voice sounded, there were shrill screams. In the continuous plethora of sounds, there was the harsh sound of bones being twisted.

I closed my eyes and curled up tightly, worried that this was just a dream.

Until I was hugged in a strong and warm embrace, with the fragrance of smokey tobacco wrapping around me.

I opened my eyes blankly and caught sight of the silver hair that was eye-catching and dazzling in the gloomy thatched house.

Those blue eyes, which were normally calm, were now mixed with a little anger.

MC: ...Am I dreaming?

Helios: Do you often dream of me?

The man gave me a look, held me, and walked out the door. It seemed to be the warehouse of a wine shop.

(Cut to outside)

Suddenly his figure stopped, and I lowered my eyes to find that a man was holding onto his trousers tightly.

??: Mr. Helios, boss, please forgive us this time. We will soon have a big deal, and then we will be accommodated….

Helios: Is the restaurant I run like an orphanage?

Helios: Repaying debts is justified.

He turned a deaf ear to the man’s pleading and the whispers from the bystanders. He moved his long legs, and the man fell to the ground.

At the same time, a group of people began to move in and out of the store.

MC: Should I first….

Helios: Don’t move.

His voice sounded impatient. I blinked and didn’t speak anymore.

After the fight was over, Helios raised the corner of his mouth and gave a slight retort to the kneeling man.

Helios: Mr. Cao, you’re welcome to visit Spring Moon Pavillion next time.

??: You foreign devil, don’t lie! Go to hell!

The curse echoed behind us, and the sound of a solid, steady heartbeat fell upon my ears.

Here, people called him many things-- Mr. Helios, the boss, foreign devil.

No one knew his origins. There was a rumour that seemed to say he was of mixed race.

Most of the restaurants, diners and pawn shops in the city were under his name, and there were many other shady places.

Countless people ate his meals, and countless people enjoyed his turf. They were his business partners, his subordinates, and his debtors.

He was the unspoken ruler of this city.

Everyone here respected him and feared him.

MC: Are you hurt?

I felt the person stepping forward seem to pause, but it was only momentarily.

Helios: No.

I leaned into that somewhat cold embrace, and in my sorrow, it seemed to overlap with the heavy snow from four years ago.

[Second Part]

(Flashback)

I stretched my arms strenuously, trying to grab the flying photograph.

The man behind me tightened the chain on the back of my neck, leaving only the muddy photo in my blurred vision, which ended up crushed with shoe prints on the ground.

Like unforeseen freedom, it broke free, but also decayed. Like my freedom, slowly slipping away with each step.

The world was covered with a film and the insults behind me were drowned out, and only cold white noise remained.

Suddenly, a pair of delicate leather shoes stopped next to the photo, and someone picked it up in the next second.

I blinked slowly, and found an eye-catching and sharp silver light under the extremely gloomy sky.

It was like the first speck of snow that one would find stunning in the late winter, burning straight into people’s eyes, beautiful and cold.

The boy looked around the same age as me, and a pair of azure blue eyes met my own.

The biting cold caused my reaction to delay and another pair of distant and similar pupils appeared before my eyes.

But they were warmer and brighter.

??: Snap out of it!

When my consciousness was pulled back to reality by the pain, I heard screams that did not belong to me. The force that restrained me suddenly disappeared, and I fell directly to the ground.

I reluctantly raised my eyes and found that the silver-haired boy had come over at some point, twisting the man’s wrist with one hand. His gaze shifted from the photo in his hand to me.

??: Did you stay in the orphanage in the east of the city as a child?

I looked at him dumbfoundedly and lost my voice for a moment.

??: Answer me.

MC: [flustered] ….Ye-yes! I stayed there for a year.

The boy’s eyes seemed to light up for a moment because of my answer, and then became alienated in the blink of an eye.

He threw the man aside, lowered his eyes and wiped off the mud from the photo with his white sleeves, then squatted down and handed it to me.

??: I’ll only ask once.

??: Come with me?

I stared at him in a daze, and the roaring from the outside world came to an abrupt end. Only the voice of the boy in front of me and my own heartbeat could be heard.

MC: Ok.

As soon as I spoke, the boy threw a few silver bills at the man.

The heavy snow fell silently, and I was taken into his arms, like a fragmented snowflake.

The blood, water and frost all mixed together, and I heard his voice in the dizziness.

??: Starting today, you are mine.

??: My name is Helios.

??: But I don’t like this name, so don’t call me that.

MC: My name is MC….Then um….what should I call you?

His attitude left me a little perplexed.

Helios: If you have something to say, I will acknowledge it.

Helios: Is that photo important?

In the heavy snow on the quiet road, I lifted my head laboriously, trying to muster a smile.

MC: [smiling affectionately] Very important. He was my best friend in the orphanage and a big star in the city.

MC: Everyone loved to hear him sing. He never cared about who his audience was; he shined nonetheless.

MC: It’s just… He went abroad six months ago, so he must be an even better person now.

The boy’s footsteps froze for a moment as if his feet were bound in ice and snow.

Helios: He’s just an actor.

Helios: A useless profession.

MC: But….it was his smile that gave me strength.

Without him, I would not have been able to hold on till the day I met you.

(End of flashback)

I opened my eyes and turned my head to see Helios sitting on the sofa, casually reading the newspaper. As usual, he should be in the restaurant at this time.

Looking at his profile, the dream I had just now made me a little confused.

It turned out that I had stayed by his side for so long.

He took me back to the small restaurant, healed my injuries and taught me all kinds of things.

Literacy, singing, dancing, medical skills, business….

He was the most ruthless and sharp blade. I had witnessed how he, with his own power, had expanded this small restaurant to its current size in just a few years.

Helios: Get up and eat if you’re awake.

The sudden words interrupted my thoughts. Helios didn’t look up as he slowly took a sip of tea from his teacup. Seeing him frown, I immediately got up from the bed.

The food had been arranged on the wooden table, the temperature just right; neither too hot nor too cold--

Obviously, the people who prepared this had carefully taken time into consideration.

I looked at the man sitting aside from the sidelines and saw the teacup he put aside. I was a little puzzled.

MC: Is that pot of tea not brewed?

Helios: It’s poisoned.

Helios: Tastes terrible.

I almost choked on the spring rolls in my mouth and sighed inwardly at his calm demeanour.

I went up to the cabinet, skillfully took out the bottle of medicine and poured out a pill. I walked up to him and handed it over.

Helios: I won’t die.

After hearing the expected answer, I picked up the pill and brought it to his mouth.

He didn’t open his mouth but stared at me coldly.

MC: You don’t need to stare at me. I’m not afraid of you.

With that said, I continued to pry open his mouth with the pill.

Probably moved by my fearlessness, his mouth finally opened slowly and swallowed the pill.

I smiled with satisfaction and when I turned around to continue enjoying my spring rolls, a pair of cool palms swept over my waist.

The incense stick burned quietly, and a small sigh and familiar body temperature covered me closely from behind.

Helios: Don’t you blame me for using you as bait?

He closed his eyes. His long eyelashes were covered with sunlight and his brows were furrowed.

MC: You taught me that there is no meaningless business in this world.

MC: You bought me. My life is yours.

Helios: That’s the spirit.

The person behind slowly opened his eyes, his pupils full of jest and scrutiny.

MC: Today I just wanted to go to the temple to ask for a peace charm like in previous years.

MC: I was going to go there by myself, but I didn’t want to cause you trouble.

He probably didn’t believe me. Even so, I explained it word by word.

A cool finger stroked my neck and entangled a few strands of my hair.

Helios: How many years have you been with me?

His sudden question had me stunned for a moment.

MC: ….Three years and two hundred and seventy-five days.

Helios: It’s three years and two hundred and seventy-six days.*

*This is a little Easter egg that @keliosyfan spotted. “When Helios asked MC how long she has been with him, she says "3 years, 275 days" but he corrects her saying "3 years, 276 days". If you put the numbers together you get 3276 which in CN numeric slang means "love Qiluo(Kiro) for life" or "生爱棋洛"So in a way, he wants MC to say "I love Kiro for life"(3276/生爱棋洛). 🥺😭🤧”

Although his voice was faint, it was conclusive.

I thought about it and didn’t argue with him. For me, there was no difference between one more day and one less day.

Helios: Want to leave?

MC: ….?

He laughed suddenly, but only slightly mocking this time.

Helios: I can teach you enough to live a better life.

After that, he stood up. The sudden drop in temperature made me feel a little cold in this midsummer weather.

Helios: Since you want to leave, I won’t stop you.

Helios: But leave before the seventh day of July.

[Third Part]

Helios left after saying this, leaving me alone in the room in a daze.

Compared to his sudden expulsion, I was more concerned about another thing.

The seventh day of July.

What was going to happen on that day?

The annexed restaurants, and suppressed merchants….I know what Helios has been doing for several years.

Would my existence cause him any trouble?

I looked at my bare wrists and couldn’t help laughing at myself.

Maybe I was locked in place by a pair of invisible shackles.

I pursed my lips and walked to the closet to take out the bag hidden in its depths. Perhaps it was just my illusion, but it seemed to have been turned over by someone.

(Outside of room)

Outside the dark room, late at night, I tiptoed over with my bag. There were faint sounds of firm punching and kicking coming from inside the room.

Helios stayed alone here every night, not letting anyone come close.

But this was my hidden secret, and I could secretly monopolize Helios at this moment.

As usual, I opened the window a crack.

In the room, Helios was half-naked, and the small old silver locket hung with silver bells, reflecting sharp lines of bright silver light in the cold moonlight.

His movements were swift and fierce, harder than usual as if he was venting out something.

His wet hair was weighed down, and sweat dripped slowly from his lower jaw and down his strong and undulating chest.

He stood at the junction of light and shadow, with most of his face hidden in the darkness.

The sound of cicadas in midsummer made people feel a little restless, and the silver locket on his chest heaved slightly as he panted hard.

Helios stood there and didn’t move. I don’t know what he was waiting for. *The music from the first Valentine’s Day event starts playing so it’s getting steamy 😏*

In the next second, those blue eyes passed through the window and were firmly locked on me.

MC: ….!

I instantly withdrew my head and squatted down.

Helios: ….Come in.

Helios: I’ll only say it once. *Don’t need to tell me twice!! 😩😩 *

Hearing the slightly stiff tone, I stood up, lowered my head, and pushed the door open. I only took a single step in and then stopped.

Helios: I don’t see you this compliant on weekdays.

MC: ….You knew?! Then why did you never let me go before….

Helios: For my own pleasure.

I suddenly raised my head and found that he had positioned himself right in front of me. His scorching body temperature seemed to be able to cross the distance between us and set me on fire.

MC: I-I didn’t come here today to take a peek, I just….

He lowered his eyes and his gaze flicked across the bag I was holding behind me. His smile melted into a bit of a smirk.

Helios: If you’re saying goodbye, you don’t...

MC: I want you to teach me some martial arts.

I held my breath and did not miss the momentary surprise that flashed through his eyes.

MC: What you taught me isn’t enough.

Helios looked at me condescendingly, his eyes dim. A breeze flitted past my ear as his hand smacked against the door frame behind me.

Helios: Not enough?

In this tense atmosphere, I tried my best not to avoid his gaze.

MC: You taught me a lot, but….it felt like things had become even serious today.

MC: So I…. I still need you.

Before I finished speaking, Helios suddenly grabbed my left wrist from the outside and at the same time stretched out his leg to hook behind me.

When I lost my balance, his left hand instantly reached out to support my waist, and his right hand came out from under my arm and clasped my wrist from the front again.

When I came back to my senses, I found that I had been directly pinned to the floor, and the bag in my hands had been tossed aside.

The entire movement was executed clean and smooth, and there was only the faint sound of the silver bell on the old silver locket swaying in the silent air.

Helios: There are many people who need me in this city.

Helios: I can teach you. Want to learn?

He lowered his head slightly, and the old silver locket grazed my chest, which made me take in a sharp inhale. My entire heart and lungs seemed to be occupied by his breath.

I tried to lift up my wrists and lower limbs, but it wasn’t enough to shake off the person above me.

MC: In this bag is the money that I have saved over the past few years. The money you bought me for back then, plus four years’ worth of interest, will be given to you.

Helios: I’m not short on cash.

MC: If you accept the money, I won’t owe you anything, but I will still help you.

I tremblingly stroked the old silver locket on his chest. It carried his body temperature and made my fingertips hot.

It coincided with the seventh day of the seventh month of the first year we met. For the first time, I heard someone cursing him and wanting him to die.

I had cried and went to the temple to ask for a peace charm and an old silver locket. When I got home, I gave them to him together.

I knew that many people in this city hated him, but I wanted him to be safe.

He had just smiled sarcastically at the time, and I threw it away when he turned around. Who knew that I’d see it dangling on his chest here that night.

The silver bells chimed, just like my unstoppable heartbeat.

MC: You still wear this old silver locket.

Helios: I forgot to remove it.

His hot breath fanned my face, entangling with my own breath in the scorching air.

My fingers followed the silver chain of the old silver locket and stroked his chest. I could clearly feel his taut muscles under my fingertips.

MC: There are many orphans like me in the restaurant.

MC: Those merchants who were suppressed by you could always open new shops.

MC: Underground, the losers will always be the bureaucrats who usually bully others and gain funds out of ill will.

MC: I don’t know why you want to be a bad person in the eyes of the city, but what I see is different from others.

Helios: Ridiculous.

MC: This is what you taught me.

Looking at my smile, he snorted coldly, but the moonlight sneaking in illuminated the faint smile in his eyes.

Helios: You just said it wrong.

He glanced at my bag and lowered his body even further.

Helios: Don’t owe me anything?

Helios: The three years and two hundred and seventy-six days with me were enough for you to repay me?

MC: [confused] You didn’t even see how much there is inside….

Helios: I’ve seen it.

He pulled slightly hard, making me stand up instantly.

Helios: You owe me too much.

Helios: I’ll ask you to settle the tab later.

Helios: However, you do need to learn some self-defence skills.

Unlike his usual touch, his fingertips caressed my eyes, ears, nose and neck.

Helios: People have many weaknesses.

Helios: Eyes, ears, throat, heart…. *The way he said this sent shivers down my spine 😳🥵*

As he whispered, his fingertips kept moving downwards, making me nervously hold onto that hand.

Helios: [more sexy whispering] What’s the matter? Don’t you want to learn?

Helios: I gave you the chance to leave.

Helios: But you refused.

[Fourth Part]

Helios implemented his teaching method, “diligently” teaching from the most basic style, which made me extremely embarrassed.

MC: [flustered] ….Can you put on some clothes next time? *MC, no!! What are you even asking?! You enjoy it and you know it! 🥵

Helios: I can wear what I like.

Seeing the obvious teasing in his eyes, I ran away completely.

Finally, I asked him about what would happen on the seventh day of July, and his expression became a little solemn under the clear moonlight.

Gradually, I became even more sure that this was related to what he had done for so many years.

(Cut to store)

In the early morning of the seventh day of the seventh month of the lunar calendar, a few foreigners in suits and arrogant expressions came to the store.

These people seemed to be a little unkind, and my heart felt uneasy.

Waiter: Miss MC, a guest of the boss, made a reservation at Spring Moon Pavillion.

MC: Let me take care of it.

With a smile, I went to the foreigners and led them to the booth. I didn’t expect that Helios would already be waiting there.

The moment he saw me, his brows lightly furrowed and he tilted his head slightly.

“Leave.”

I blinked and instantly understood what he meant. After the foreigners walked into the booth, they positioned themselves again at the door.

MC: Boss, your guests are here.

After that, I took a step back and then ridicule suddenly rang out.

??: Leaving already?

Unexpectedly, a foreigner walked over, grabbed my wrist and dragged me directly into the booth.

??: Helios, you must have misunderstood.

??: What is the meaning of a group of men when talking about business?

The foreigner smiled sarcastically. I restrained the urge to shoot and looked at Helios cautiously.

In the next second, an invisible cold front flew past my face, grazing the wrist of the foreigner and leaving behind a small, bloody wound.

No one knew when he fired the shot, and Helios was still leaning on the sofa, lazily looking at the wailing foreigner. He made no effort to hide his coldness and murderous intent.

Helios: Next time, it’ll be your head.

Helios: Come here.

I stood cautiously behind Helios, and saw a man in a white suit standing up with a feigned smile.

Foreigner: Just kidding. Don’t get upset, Helios.

Helios: Is that what you learned by spying on me every day?

My heart sank and I tried my best to calm my nerves.

Have these people been spying on him?

Foreigner: Don’t say that, we just need to confirm whether you are worthy of our cooperation.

Foreigner: After all, with this kind of business, ordinary people are not eligible to participate.

Foreigner: But….we also have to look at the sincerity of the boss.

His eyes moved from Helios to me with an arrogant smile.

Foreigner: I heard that you have a well-trained girl who is clever and easy to use. I wonder if you are willing to share?

I was shocked and couldn’t move. I waited quietly for Helios’ answer.

Helios: I can.

The cicadas kept humming noisily, and for an instant, I seemed to be back to that moment from four years ago, when there was only haziness left in this world.

But I just blinked and walked respectfully from the back of the sofa to the foreigners.

It sounded like a serious matter. Maybe he wanted me to be an undercover agent for these foreigners?

Or maybe he just changed his mind again and didn’t need me anymore.

My vision became a little blurred.

Helios: Did you really think I would say that?

Helios’ arms encircled me from behind. His familiar breath came over me, and his voice was filled with pure mockery.

Foreigner: Helios, what do you mean?

Helios: Your nonsense... will anyone still want it?

The foreigner was stunned as if he didn’t expect him to say that. But in the next second, his expression became fierce again.

Foreigner: So it was you who brought those people…!

In the horrified eyes of those foreigners, Helios’ smile became even more ruthless.

Helios: I’ve been tired of looking at the faces of you idiots for a long time now.

Helios: I asked you to come today to settle the account.

At Helios’ signal, I slowly withdrew from the booth.

(Cut to lobby)

I didn’t know what would happen to them next, but maybe something would briefly end today.

I returned to the lobby and asked for the guestbook from the front desk. I wanted to distract myself but there was one face that was stuck in my mind.

Helios won’t get hurt, right?

Helios: ….MC.

Did I trouble him again just now?

Helios: MC.

An impatient sigh sounded in my ears and I felt my figure tilt, and in the next moment, I was trapped in someone’s arms.

Helios: Didn’t you hear me calling you?

MC: Helios….!

Helios: I should’ve said that only you can’t call me by that name.

In this lighted corner, the ambiguous gazes of the other guests in the lobby wandered over to us.

MC: Did you just call me? Wait… Has your matter been resolved?

MC: And let me go first. Th-there are other guests here.

Helios: This is my restaurant.

His fingertips rested on the guestbook, and a faint chilly scent emanated from him.

Helios: Did you really think I would give you to those people just now?

MC: ….

He narrowed his eyes, his voice carrying with it some faint, dangerous warning.

MC: …. I didn’t.

Helios: You’re a terrible liar.

Helios: Why did you walk over?

MC: Because I believe in you. I know you have your reasons.

I couldn’t help holding onto his drooping lapels. At this moment, Helios seemed to reveal all those sharp edges and corners of his heart.

There were only some unfamiliar ones left, which belonged to the insecurities of youth.

Helios: Ridiculous.

As he said this, he pulled me up and walked into the depths of the lobby.

MC: ….Sorry.

Helios: I’m talking about myself.

I looked up in surprise and saw his slightly ironic expression.

Helios: They have a large munitions factory behind them.

His voice was indifferent, but what he said was like a time bomb, going off in my brain.

MC: Munitions factory?!

Helios: Those foreigners have been smuggling arms into the city.

Helios: I couldn’t find the buyers and sellers, but there was always a steady stream of arms that kept coming into the city.

Hearing this, I felt cold sweat ooze from my back.

I knew what the meaning was behind all of this.

I remembered the unfinished words under the hideous faces of those foreigners just now.

Helios had found those people now.

MC: Why…. are you telling me this?

Helios: Because I want to.

In the midst of my wildly racing heartbeat, his words were sure and firm, as if something seemed to be coming to light.

MC: The merchants and bureaucrats that you suppressed were all related to this, right?

Helios’ silence secretly confirmed my suspicions, and my heart couldn’t help but race.

He always carried all the dangers by himself; walking alone in silence.

Why not ask other people for help?

Just as I was about to ask, I immediately thought of the answer.

With the continuous delivery of arms, both buyers and sellers were in the dark, and easy actions against them would only be a surprise.

Did he destroy those arms?

Helios: Strength and weapons are necessary.

Helios: Those who really need it will use them to protect important things.

He said this matter of factly with determined eyes as if understanding what I was thinking in my heart.

We walked through the corridor of the hotel and came to the street from the side door.

The dusk was heavy, the red lanterns softly brightening the sights of the entire street, and it was full of liveliness.

The girls blushed as they cuddled up with their partners under the lights and the crescent silver moon.

Such a quiet night made my nose itch.

MC: If those goods were sold to the original sellers.

MC: What would tonight have been like?

I turned my face to look at Helios by my side. The warm yellow lights shone on the side of his stern face. He didn’t say a word, probably accepting something reluctantly.

MC: What you said about this world… What do you think it will look like in the future?

Helios: There is only brief peace at the moment.

Helios: But suffering will bloom into a flower. (Sidenote: what he means to say is "no pain, no gain." It's one of Kiro's character themes :>)

He raised his head slightly, and the cold moonlight reflected in his blue eyes, like the sea under the moon.

Silent and immense, as if it could contain everything.

Seeing him like this reminded me of those distant eyes.

In a ghostly manner, I took out the crumpled old photo from my purse and held it beside his face.

Helios: Why do you carry this person’s picture with you everywhere?

MC: [smiling affectionately] Because he is special to me.

Helios: And yet you still follow me?

MC: This is different.

Looking at his teasing smile, I snorted at him and looked at the boy in the photo with a warm smile.

MC: You said that when technology advances in the future, this photo will definitely become the colour in my memory.

Under the blue sky, the blond boy was like a passionate golden sun under the eyes of the crowd.

He smiled and seemed to be able to become a source of invincible courage.

He could gather endless amounts of enthusiasm as long as he stood there.

His voice turned into notes and tunes, dancing along with the wind, driving some of the darkness away.

In this devastated generation, he was like a burning flame.

Kiro: I’m Kiro.

Kiro: Thank you for listening to my song.

Helios looked at the yellowed black and white photo, looking a bit dazed for a while, and a little lonely.

Helios: No one in this city remembers him anymore.

MC: I still remember.

MC: Even if the whole world doesn’t, I will remember him.

In those turbulent years, I had always remembered the embers left behind by that meteor.

Once, there was a young man named Kiro who helped me through countless dark and dull times with a smile.

Until the day I met Helios. I gained the strength to live again from this person.

MC: I think you are very similar.

MC: Although your methods are different, you are both using your own strength to illuminate and empower others.

Helios’ pupils contracted unconsciously, and became deeper with my words.

The slowly rising paper lanterns glowed with a gentle light, quietly surrounding us, like a tender embrace.

Helios: You haven’t asked for this year’s peace charm.

Hearing what he said, I suddenly remembered that because of the previous kidnapping, I couldn’t find a peace charm.

MC: Seeing your attitude before, I thought that there was something that was making you anxious, so I kept following you.

Helios: What attitude?

MC: You said I should leave before the seventh day of July. I asked you about it later, but you didn’t say anything. Wasn’t it about that serious matter?

Hearing my question, Helios froze for a moment and then turned his face to the side, his earlobes slowly turning red.

MC: Was that not what it meant?

Helios: ….

He pursed his mouth and the lights shone behind him like a splendid landscape painting.

Helios: Because “weakness” really does become a weakness.

MC: Huh?

Helios: You are the only person here who wants me to be safe and live a long life.

Helios: I was reluctant to wait until the Qixi Festival this year.

Helios: Although, I don’t understand why you would want to wish for peace during the Qixi Festival.

My heart was beating fast, and seeing Helios’ face turned to the side, I found his eyes to be brighter than the stars.

MC: [blushing] Because, because I just happened to run into you at that time. *Changed some wording*

MC: And if it’s the New Year, the wishes would all pile up on top of each other, and God won’t be able to hear them.

MC: During the Qixi Festival, maybe God is used to hearing the wishes for marriage, so he can hear my request for peace without needing it to unheard.

Helios: Then today, in addition to asking for peace, you can also wish for marriage.

Helios smiled slightly with some clarity and sincerity.

MC: ….In that case, a name is needed.

MC: But you never let me call you by this name.

I held my breath nervously and saw his face slowly leaning towards me. I didn’t mind the attention around me, and his breath slowly entangled with mine.

Helios: Let me see.

His protracted tone was a bit tempting and bewitching as if it had lost a thick shell; more naked and intimate than usual, and finally landed on my lips.

Helios: Ki-Ro.

Helios: Please use that name.

End

You can find the call that comes after this date here!

#mlqc #mlqc spoilers #mr love #mr love game #mr love queens choice #mr love dream date #mldd #mr love kiro #mldd kiro #mlqc kiro #周棋洛 #date translation #LOVED THIS DATE!!#a whole symphony of Kiro flavours #I especially liked the unexpected spice

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years

Text

Savior

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Basically, Bucky saves you and then stalks you.

Words: 1596

Warning/notes: it’s just fluff…that’s it. There’s some cursing. At the end is a random day in the future. High chance of typos…like mega high.

He had saved you once; just once. One time you found yourself in a questionable situation with some drunk men who wanted your money. And yes, you were grateful for the rescue, and yes, he was Bucky Barnes; The Winter Soldier; the super sexy, metal-armed, bad boy turned good. But that didn’t mean he was allowed to stalk you, and yet, that’s all he’d done since he handed you your purse back and sent those men to the emergency room.

Every day for two weeks you’d seen him and somehow, despite his skill, it seemed he had failed to notice that you were well aware of him watching. First, it was Maggie’s Diner on a Friday evening as you ate dinner with your friends. Maggie had come over to greet her long-time customers, and as she did, she patted your shoulder with a coy smile and a chuckle, pointing to the back of a man who sat at the counter top.

“Every few minutes he looks your way, Y/N. I think he might have a little crush.” She’d said.

You had looked past her plump form and immediately knew it was him. The baseball cap hiding his brown locks pulled low over his eyes; The black leather jacket snugly fitted over his shoulders with a sleeve that slipped up every time he took a sip of his drink, showing an inch of his metal arm. For who he was, his subtlety was surprisingly lacking.

Your friends had only oohed and awed. Anyone would know he was hot even if only looking at him from behind. There was no way God would give him a body like that and not grant a face to match. But it didn’t faze you. You knew better, you just didn’t know why he was choosing to follow you of all people.

After that, it was seeing him outside of your workplace, watching from across the street and quickly hiding his face if you glanced his way. When you thought he had finally left you alone, you saw him at the local summer carnival. If you played the balloon dart game, he was a few booths down shooting little rotating metal ducks with a toy shotgun like they were the enemy. If you went to the arcade, he was fifteen feet away playing the claw game and winning himself a fairly substantial sized stuffed bear that he later used to duck behind when you whipped around fast to see if you could catch him staring.

He was relentless, you would give him that. But you didn’t know how long he would trail your every move before giving up. It seemed like he would never stop, and you were growing tired of playing the oblivious.

————————————————–

Your eyes bore into the back pages of the wide-open newspaper he’d been pretending to read for the last hour as you sipped your coffee a few tables over. He flicked the top corner down half and inch and, with one eye, peered over it. With your lips around the plastic cup you rose an eyebrow and he quickly straightened the paper again.

You chuckled. There was something cute about how he watched over you like some sort of guardian angel. Cute, of course, if it wasn’t so fucking creepy.

Standing sharply, you tossed your empty cup into the nearest trash can and made your way over to him, then snatched the paper right out of his large hands. You crossed your arms and stared down at him.

“You really don’t give up, huh?”

He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in the polished wooden chair. “I, uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes. He didn’t know what you were talking about, and yet, he figured out your name. You certainly hadn’t told him before. “Don’t you have better things to do than follow me around? Like saving the world or something?”

He crossed his arms, staring up at you in sudden slight challenge. “It’s been surprisingly quiet lately. And believe it or not, little old ladies who need help crossing the street prefer Captain America.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

Bucky sighed and removed his cap to run a hand through his hair before placing it back on his head. “Look, I just wanted to make sure you’ve stayed save, that’s all.”

“Well, as you’ve seen, I’ve been a good girl.”

“Yea, you’ve been a good girl,” He said, his eyes meeting yours. You shivered at the way those words passed his lips. “But it’s got nothing to do with your behavior. It’s others. I don’t trust them.”

You glared down at him but he didn’t flinch, only glared back with an intensity that could not be broken. “Can I ask you one thing?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know where I live?”

His fixed stare cracked at your question and his eyes darted to his lap. “…No,” He mumbled, then looked back at you.

You narrowed your gaze and frowned. “Are you lying?”

“…Maybe.”

“Jesus,” You scoffed. “Do you know how creepy that is?”

“It’s not creepy!” He snapped a little too loud, drawing the attention of other coffee-craving patrons. He lowered his voice at the numerous scowls. “It’s good intentions disguised as somewhat crossing a boundary.”

“Somewhat?”

“Yes, somewhat. It could be much worse. I could’ve snooped around your apartment. The worst I’ve done is make sure the locks on your front door can’t be opened with a twisted paper clip.”

“…I should be so mad,” You said. “I should file a restraining order, for fucks sake.”

His eyebrows rose and lips parted as the last thread of his tough composure busted. “You’re not mad?”

“No, I’m…” You uncrossed your arms, shedding your hardened shell. “I don’t know, but I’m—”

“But you’re not mad,” He smiled.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “…No.”

——————————————————–

You groaned at the horrible, grating sound that yanked you out of a deep sleep. Turning your head left and right, you noticed two things that had the corners of your mouth tipping down. One, the clock on your dresser read three in the morning. Two, your boyfriend was not in bed beside you. Then that piercing sound began again.

Throwing the covers off your legs and tiptoeing out of the bedroom, you looked around to find Bucky at your entryway, drilling a barrel bolt and chain lock across the front door. With a breathy chuckle, you stepped up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, then placed a small kiss at the back of his neck.

“Are you aware of the time?” You asked against his skin.

“Almost done,” He replied. He picked up another screw, placed it appropriately, and shocked your eardrums once again with the large electric tool. “There,” He said with satisfaction then turned in your arms.

He set the drill on the side table where your keys lived and wrapped his arms around you.

“Baby…” You started.

He hummed back.

“What are you doing?”

“I forgot to put the locks on last night before bed.”

“It couldn’t wait until morning?”

He shook his head. “I heard a bunch of drunk stumbling in the hallway about a half hour ago. Someone jiggled the doorknob.”

“And is the offender still alive?”

“Oh, Ha Ha.” He said sarcastically. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Somehow I think you sleeping next to me is more effective than a couple locks, safety wise.”

“You can never be too cautious, Doll.”

Snickering, you touched your forehead to his bare chest. “Oh, God…”

“You’re upset.”

You looked up at him and leaned up to softly kiss him. “No, Baby. I just love you. I love that you take such good care of me.”

“Yea?”

“Yea.”

He tucked some hair behind your ear. “I’m always afraid one day you’ll find me too overprotective.”

Shaking your head, you said “I think you’re just protective enough.”

He smiled and cupped your face, running his thumbs along your cheekbones. “I love you, too.”

“I know,” You grinned. “You make that clearer every day.”

———————————————————

Extra: Random Day, Two Years Later…

“Apples, check; Chicken, check; Shampoo, check; Weird book that your mother wanted for her birthday, check” You said to yourself as you looked over your list. That was the last of it and thank God; you hated shopping. You were ready to hightail it out of there once you found your husband.

As if summoned at the thought of him, Bucky’s large form appeared at your side. You looked up at him with an affectionate smile that immediately dropped when you saw the puppy-dog expression on his face. Then, you looked down.

“No,” You said sternly and glanced back at the wrinkly piece of white notepad paper in your hands.

“What do you mean ‘no?’ He whined.

“I mean,” You met his eyes, “No.” You stared at the numerous equally shaped boxes bundled in his arms—four of them, by your count—and shook your head. “We don’t need any more.”

“How can you say that?”

Turning your body toward his, you crossed your arms the best you could over your swelling belly. “Because as it is, we have eight, two per room in the apartment and that is if we include the bathroom. I am not changing that to three.”

“Y/N, baby monitors are necessary.”

“Yes, one per room. And don’t think for a second I’m not taking the ones out of the bathroom.”

“And if our baby crawls in there?”

“She won’t. We’ll watch her.”

“Y/N—”

“Put them back, Bucky.”

He huffed. “Fine.”

Tags: @dugan365 @moonlightimagination @pietrotheavenger @marvel-fanfiction @hawkeyeharrington @dani-si @wintersoldier98 @then-there-was-me-emily @prxttybirdz @xceafh @jazzwoman897 @fandoms-who @meganwinchester1999 @ufffg @debra77 @rebelliouscat @anise-d-castle6 @projectxhappiness @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @lowkeysebby @notmyfault404 @jjamesbbarness @guera31 @sophiatomlinson23 @thisismysecrethappyplace @hiddles-rose @vibhati123 @mywinterwolf @picapicapicassobaby @genius2050 @lokilvrr @sunshine-seven @missjayi @supernaturalwintersoldier

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lunaverseimagine · 4 years

Text

Escape

Prompt: I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with from @masterofthedarkness‘ 300 follower writing challenge! Congratulations again Val, I hope you like it <3

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You’re having a bad day and your crush seems to notice

Warnings: Mention of injury (not your own), mention of alcohol

Word count: 2k

A/n: So I had a complete brain flop writing this and forgot that Snape was not, in fact, teaching potions in the Marauders era. However, I’ve written the fic now and don’t have the energy to change it, so consider this an AU of sorts? (Putting in bold bc I keep getting comments about it)

Fic:

It started the moment you woke up. You couldn’t explain why but all you wanted to do was crawl back into bed, wrap the duvet round you, and hide from the world. It was as though your energy had been sucked out of you, leaving a shell that felt too heavy. And yet you were a good student, you couldn’t stand missing lessons, plus you didn’t want anyone worrying about you. Which is why, in spite of your body’s groaning protests, you heaved yourself out of your dorm and down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Your friends were talking animatedly around you, occasionally trying to get you to join in the conversation, but all you offered in response were weak smiles and one word replies. As a last resort your best fried Beth tried bringing up your crush, Sirius. The topic normally excited you, but today it was just a reminder that nothing would happen between you, and you became even more withdrawn. Luckily your friends understood - you wanted to be near them but weren’t up to their early morning gossip - so they stayed with you but didn’t try to get you to speak anymore.

As always, halfway through your meal the owls swooped into the hall, bringing newspapers, letters, and the occasional parcel. Mild surprise filled you at the sight of your own family’s owl Lolly settling in front of you. You stroked her head before gently untying the small, crumpled letter attached to her leg, and she nipped your finger affectionately. Your parents didn’t send you letters very often, and you were stumped as to what could be written inside. You took a deep breath. Only one way to find out.

Unfolding the parchment carefully revealed your mum’s scrawled handwriting. Odd. Normally your dad would write the letters; he found it calming to sit with his parchment and special quill after a long day as an auror, pondering his words for a while to make his messages as concise as possible. He said the process was therapeutic. But when you read the words inside it made sense, and you felt your stomach drop.

“Y/n, I’m sorry to tell you like this, but I thought you should know. Dad was injured at work. The healers say it’s treatable but he’ll be in St Mungo’s for a while. Hope school is going ok. Love Mum xx”

Swallowing your tears down, you let the letter fall from your hands and settle on the table. You forced your eyes to look up, away from the words, and you could’ve sworn you caught Sirius watching you from across the hall. As soon as you’d thought it, he’d already turned back to his friends, and you shook your head at yourself. So desperate that you were imagining interactions with your crush. Pathetic. You lay your hand in Lolly’s warm fur, focussing on how soft she felt between your fingers, trying to push the rest of your thoughts to the back of your mind. Breaking down in the middle of the Great Hall was the last thing you wanted to do.

Your lessons did nothing to help your mood. In transfiguration you were supposed to be turning rats into clocks. By the end of the class most students had done it perfectly, but your clock had a tail instead of an hour hand, and instead of ticking it squeaked with every passing second. You felt so deflated, the only thought that kept you going was getting back to your dorm at the end of the day and hiding in your bed. Maybe finding some firewhiskey too to dull the aching you felt when your thoughts drifted to your dad in a hospital bed. In fact, what you really wanted, the one thing that might bring you peace, was to have someone hold you. Not just someone. Sirius. But you knew as well as anyone that he wouldn’t be interested in the likes of you. You couldn’t event transfigure a rat, you’d never be good enough.

You had mixed feelings as you made your way to your last lesson of the day. After this you were free for the evening, but first you had to endure an hour of Snape’s teaching, and his judgement of you. Potions was your worst subject and Snape made a point of noticing every little thing you did wrong. Begrudgingly you approached the dungeons, the echo of your footsteps was all that filled the empty corridors. Most of the time Hogwarts felt familiar, but in times like these it felt cold and unforgiving, emphasising the loneliness that was building in your chest. Wait- why was no one else in the corridors? With a jolt you realised that you’d spent so long lost in your thoughts between lessons that you were late. Your steps sped into a run, and when you finally burst through the door to Snape’s dungeon, he stopped mid sentence to scowl at you. Everyone else turned towards you too, so many pairs of eyes drilling into you. You willed the stone floor to swallow you whole.

“I will not tolerate students showing up late to my class.” You gulped, trying to suppress your heavy-breathing as you awaited your punishment. “I’d have thought you of all people would want to be present for the whole lesson. Then you might finally brew a decent potion. Alas…” he trailed off, a thoughtful expression on his face. You felt your cheeks burn, your head hung low. “Detention. After class you will scrub everyone’s cauldrons clean. No magic allowed.” It was all you could do to nod. You felt so defeated as you stood at the table beside Beth that you almost didn’t notice the small explosion a few tables behind you. You whipped your head around, and- no, you definitely weren’t imagining it this time- Sirius winked at you as Snape stalked between the desks towards the commotion. He glared down at Sirius.

“Looks like Y/L/N won’t be alone in detention.” He sneered, and weaved his way to the front of the class without another word. Your jaw was slack and Beth nudged you with her elbow.

“He did that on purpose!” She whisper-yelled. Your jaw was slack, not quite sure if you believed her.

“Well- well maybe it was an accident? Or he did it for fun?” Your excuses were weak even to your own ears. But why would he want to be in detention with you?

Seconds stretched into minutes as you willed the time away. Thankfully Beth was good at potions so she did most of the work, telling you which ingredients to chop and when to add them to the cauldron. Snape still found things to fault but you just tuned his voice out, feeling like you were watching the scene through a window instead of being in it yourself.

Eventually the class was dismissed, and Beth gave you a sympathetic smile and mouthed “good luck” as she left the room. When it was just you, Sirius and Snape left, he held a hand out to each of you.

“Wands.” Reluctantly you and Sirius both placed your wands in his hands, not quite meeting his eye as you did so. “I want the equipment spotless.” With that he left the room. Despite feeling as bad as you did, you couldn’t help your heartbeat quickening at the thought of being alone with Sirius.

Avoiding his eye, you crossed the room to the cupboard full of cleaning supplies, dirty cauldrons being the only thing that stood in the way of you and the relative peace of your dorm. You felt his gaze on the back of your head.

“What?” You kept your focus on the cupboard, rummaging through the supplies to find what you needed.

“Are you ok?” After a moment, you turned to face him, throwing a sponge which he caught effortlessly, without breaking eye-contact.

“I’ve been better.” You didn’t elaborate, instead getting to work scrubbing the grime off the cauldron closest to you. Sirius abandoned his sponge, coming to stand on the opposite side of your table, watching your determined face as you tried to get one particularly tough spot of dragon-bogey off the side of the cauldron. He found himself admiring the way you furrowed your brows as you concentrated, the way your tongue poked out slightly from between your lips. Those lips. You, on the other hand, were thinking about how it would take double the time to clean if Sirius didn’t do his half. Subconsciously you squeezed your sponge tighter until your knuckles turned white.

“I bet I could make you feel better.” You huffed. Sure you had feelings for Sirius, but he could still be infuriating.

“I bet you could.”

His eyes twinkled, surprised that you’d joined in with his flirting. “Oh yeah, how’s that?” His hopes were soon shattered as you replied.

“By helping me clean so we can leave this bloody dungeon.” Sirius was taken aback. You never normally snapped at people, and he was just trying to be nice. Godric, he’d got himself a detention just so you wouldn’t be alone.

“You know what? Fine.” He stormed back over to his sponge and started cleaning the cauldron furthest away from you. The two of you scrubbed in silence for a while, making decent progress on the cauldrons, but you felt guilt creeping in at the way you’d treated him. The guilt, the tiredness, the worry about your dad, all of it swirled through your thoughts in a perpetual loop until you couldn’t help it anymore. You let out a small sob, trying your best to be quiet, but in the otherwise silent room Sirius heard it perfectly. He abandoned his cauldron, rushing over to embrace you in a hug, rubbing soothing circles on your back. He had no clue what to say, but the silence didn’t bother you. It gave you a chance to work through your feelings.

After a while you pulled away, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your robes. “Oh Merlin, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for darling.” He rested his hand on your arm for a moment, waiting to see if you wanted to say anything else. When you just smiled, he returned the smile, before going back to cleaning the cauldrons. This time the silence that filled the room was comfortable, both of you lost in thought. Finally, arms aching, the two of you finished your last cauldrons, and Sirius went to Snape’s office to collect your wands. You sat on the floor outside the classroom waiting for him, picking at a loose thread on your robe. When Sirius returned he handed you your wand, and slid down the wall so he was sitting next to you. You rested your head on his shoulder, whispering into the corridor.

“Thank you.”

Sirius wrapped an arm round your shoulders. “What for?”

“I know you got that detention on purpose. Just- thank you for being there.”

“Not a problem darling.” His fingers traced tender circles on your shoulder, and you felt yourself melting in to him. Being so close to him you thought you’d be nervous, but instead you felt peaceful. Safe.

Sirius broke the silence. “What’s going on?” It was almost a whisper, as though he wasn’t sure whether he should’ve asked, but he couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering on your own. He needed you to know that he was there to listen.

“It’s just- it’s a bit of everything, y’know? I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with.” You laughed at how stupid that sounded, but Sirius took your hand, lacing your fingers through his.

“I’ve got some firewhisky in my room?” It came out as a question.

You turned so you were face-to-face.

“And the cuddles?”

“I’m sure I’ve got some of those to spare too.” He lifted your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on each knuckle in turn. You closed your eyes, savouring the sensation. Then he stood up, helping you off the floor after him, and your hands stayed connected the whole walk back to his common room.

End

A/N: I hope you liked it (regardless of the Snape/Sirius timeline error oopsies)! If you did feel free to give feedback or check out my other stuff, and also give Val (@masterofthedarkness) a follow if you haven’t already! <3

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showbiziz · 2 years

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I first encountered Wedekind’s play when I was in my first year of postgraduate studies (a.k.a. grad school); I read the Edward Bond translation on the site Drama Online, and fell madly in love. The poetic tone of the text entranced me; the characters were no less vivid. Shakespeare may have basically planted the teen angst genre with Romeo and Juliet, but Wedekind took it to a next-level realm of gritty reality, without resorting to extreme explicitness — even in the play’s harshest moments, the poetry remains.

I want to highlight a few particular things that I especially love about the play, in no particular order (by the way, all excerpts are from the 2007 Jonathan Franzen translation, which in my opinion is THE BEST!!!):

The brilliant characterization, especially in this scene when the girls are talking about having kids when they're married (they all want boys), Wendla mentions how happy she is to be a girl, and that topic merges into a discussion of cute guys:

Hansy Rilow is a precious cinnamon roll and must be protected from the haters at all costs (this is besides the fact that he’s one of my fictional crushes).

He genuinely congratulates Moritz in the scene where he finds out he’s passed his exams:

HANSY RILOW: Congratulations, Moritz. - Just be glad you got away with it.

He doesn’t join in when the other boys make fun of him.

Later, he grieves at Moritz's funeral ("Rest in peace, old sport!"), and gives Otto a stinging retort when he makes a callous comment about the deceased:

OTTO: The thing is, he still owes me five marks. We had a bet. He swore he wouldn't flunk.

HANSY RILOW: It's your fault he's lying there. You called him a show-off.

Since Robert was the one to call him a show-off, Hansy’s response to Otto seems aimed at all the others who mocked Moritz — it’s meant as a collective condemnation.

He reminds me very much of another of my fictional crushes, Sebastian Flyte in Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh (a must-read book if you’re into any of the academia aesthetics — it’s where all that started). The vineyard scene especially gives me major Brideshead vibes, especially the scene where Sebastian and Charles go on an afternoon drive.

Here’s a snippet of the vineyard scene (Act 3, Scene 6):

Wedekind and Waugh’s marvelous use of lush imagery to convey their respective characters’ inner lives is especially evident in these moments, and I LOVE it.

(Side-note: I enjoy imagining what the children will be like as adults; I speculate that Hansy will end up marrying Ilse (she’s a beautiful art model, he has an appreciation for all things aesthetically-pleasing and luxurious), and they’ll be the rich, glamorous couple who live in the only mansion in town, where they host fabulous parties. Meanwhile, Melchior (married to sweet, supportive Martha) will run the local newspaper, full of erudite commentary on current events, and Ernst will be the kind-hearted, beloved-by-all local preacher, with his “affectionate little housewife” Thea.)

And finally, the last exchange between Melchior and Moritz in the graveyard:

*Blinks back tears* Whew. That packs an emotional gut-punch.

I’ll conclude on a lighter note, with Hansy’s wonderful line in the vineyard scene.

HANSY RILOW: Let's not be sad! - Life's too short.

So true.

#spring awakening #theatre #frank wedekind #melchior gabor #wendla bergmann #moritz stiefel #hanschen rilow #ernst robel #martha bessel #stage plays #playwright #fictional crushes #brideshead revisited

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colorfullfalls · 4 years

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Tag-along sister

“Embry request where reader is Bella's sister, she hangs out with Jake when Bella does too and she meets Embry. Take your wonderful creativity and run with it :)”

Embry Call x Reader

Jacob Black was a smitten fool. Witnessing blushing smiles, lengthy black hair pushed behind his ear, and longing glances aimed towards Bella was your new normal. Joking around was normal between friends, but it appeared as if Jake had to make everything a playful jab towards your older sister. Bella enjoyed the constant attention because it preoccupied her mind enough to not only dwell on Edward. You knew that and that’s why you always agreed to go with her when she asked you to join.

Bella wasn’t dumb, she knew that Jacob liked her and it made her nervous. She was not over her last relationship and jumping into a new one wasn’t bright. You were the key part in halting Jacob’s “attempts” but he really didn’t even care that you were there. You and Jake were the same age and he viewed you more as a best friend that he could be comfortable around.

The duo fixed bikes and chatted about life during hangout sessions. At first you sat on a work Ben h with snacks and joined in, but now you were too busy fooling around with Embry. The first time Embry came you admired the tall and naturally beautiful human before you. Not only was he gorgeous, but he was so sweet that it could give you a cavity. Slowly but surely Embry and Quil started joining when they knew you would be there.

Oil ran down Embry’s tan arms as he fixed the breaks on Bella’s bike. You intentionally tried to look away but your eyes drifted to watch the black liquid make its way down his wrist and onto his forearm, twisting like art over his veins. He was the prettiest creation you had ever laid your eyes upon.

A nudge to your elbow caused you to snap your eyes to Bella who was giving you a shit eating grin. She was well aware about your on growing crush on Jake’s friend and she more than encouraged it. You glared at her and shook your head ‘no’ to tell her that it wasn’t happening.

Embry Call was a god among humans; his radiant smile made your knees weak and you swore that very smile could melt the ice in Antarctica. In your eyes he was equal to the Greek god Apollo and you were a pitiful demigod from a random god like Hermès. Embry talked to you a lot but come on, he was nice to everyone.

You were glad to be his friend; truly.

That didn’t mean you didn’t daydream about what it would be like to hangout alone. Dinner, maybe watching the sunset on the beach sometime. His favorite snack was the plain goldfish and you would be sure to bring a bag of them because that boy loves his snacks. You just wanted to be his person. The one who he told deep shit to at one in the morning during a sporadic coffee run. The one who he vented to when he is fed up with school. The one who he looked forward to seeing.

“Holy cow, it’s not supposed to rain for once tonight. I say we have a fire or something... enjoy the evening ya know?” Jake said, glancing at the weather section of the newspaper that his dad bought earlier that day. They used newspaper to lay on while working on the bikes to avoid getting dirty, although that never worked.

Bella shifted her look away from you and glanced at the paper on the ground, “I would be down. How ‘bout you Y/N?”

Embry paused what he was doing and gazed at you. His brown eyes meant yours and your heart did a backflip, “Sure, I’m game.”

Embry’s lips quirked into his soft small smile that showcased his adorable dimples at your response. His eyes held pure joy as he turned and wiped his hands on a rag.

“Emby, I thought Quil would be here by now.” Jake asked yet stated at the same time.

“Quil can’t do anything. It’s old Quil’s birthday and they are doing family stuff. I already tried to get him to come earlier dude.” Embry explained, you got lost in how smooth his voice was. It was just so nice to hear.

“It’s us four then.” You said, smiling at Embry’s cute expression while he worked the oil off of his skin.

“Yupp.” Jake replied with his usual lopsided grin directed towards your older sister.

Bella bit her lip in deep thought for a second, “Jake and I can go get s’more stuff if you and Embry can get some wood together.”

Your eyes widened at her suggestion and were about to protest but Embry was nodding his head, “Yeah, we can handle that. Right, bean?”

You meekly nodded, “Yeah. We got it.”

You were flustered by his nickname for you. One time you said human bean instead of human being and it made Embry laugh until he cried. Since then he called you bean in an affectionate way. Nonetheless it made you blush because your crush having a special nickname for you made you feel.. well, special.

“There’s the enthusiasm I like to see!” Embry cheered.

Two months later you turned down the aisle to see one other person in it, Embry Call. The boy who you really liked.. the same boy who neglected you all for no reason. Your heart filled with excitement but dread. You missed him dearly but you were really hurt and confused as to why he dropped your friendship like it was nothing. You noticed that his hair was short and it showed off his sharp jawline more.

His brown eyes met yours and his lips parted in amazement. He slowly sunk down to his knees, hands going to his thighs to ground him that this was real. You grew worried when he didn’t speak. You bent down to his level.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“You.” He breathed out.

You snorted, “Don’t even remember my name? Glad our friendship meant so much.” You muttered, moving away.

His hand flew out and grasped your arm as he stumbled to stand up, “Bean, of course I remember your name! Don’t go.” He pleaded.

“Why shouldn’t I? You left us so easily.”

His brown eyes held sorrow as he released your arm, “Look I have so much to explain and I promise that I will. I truly am sorry and soon you will understand. Give me a chance?”

You bit the inside of your cheek in deep though. He was a dick for ditching you but he seemed upset and he did promise that he would explain it all. Plus the intense way he was looking at you in the store made you want to forgive him now.

“Meet me at the beach tonight. Same spot we had the fire.”

He nodded. As you walked away you heard him mutter, “I knew it would be my sweet little bean.”

#twilight imagine #embrycallimagine #embry call imagine #embry call

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magma-cjay · 3 years

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Lingering Fragments (cw: death, angst, implied suicide)

(foreword: ok MagmaCjay, you asked for it, don't say you weren't warned)

○○○○○○○○○○○○○

They were all dead. Every single one of them.

With great effort Risotto staggered toward the headquarters, limping painfully, his right leg dragging, and barely attached to his body by Metallica's power alone. Torn nearly off and barely hanging on by a few strands of muscle and tendon, and the ability of his Stand.

He had barely escaped his encounter with the unassuming young boy. A boy whom he knew had ties to the Boss. Who had mistreated him and his team for far too long. Who he was a fool to have underestimated. But he was lucky to escape with his life. Especially when Bucciarati's team intervened.

If one can consider me lucky, by any definition, Risotto thought.

His whole team was gone. He was the last man standing. The rest of his men, his family, slaughtered like swine by Bucciarati's team, and for what? Hadn't they sought to betray the boss as well? Hadn't they sought the same goal? Weren't they two teams on enemy sides, yet united with a common enemy?

It was all so damn unfair.

It wasn't long until Risotto neared the Hitman Squad hideout, a small, shabby and unassuming apartment that lay secluded in the Italian suburbs. A place where he and his crew dealt their shady deals to survive and hid from the wrath of the Boss. A place that was what many would call the dark, ominous underground of Italy's streets, but was a shelter for his men and himself.

A place that was the closest thing he could call a home.

Barging into the door, blood pouring from his numerous wounds, Risotto stumbled painfully into the living room with a cry of anguish. A cry that echoed through the empty halls of the hideout and gradually warbled away into silence. A painful, deafening silence that hurt Risotto far more than Aerosmith's bullets ever could.

He collapsed heavily onto the kitchen table, breathing heavily and wincing in pain. His dark inky eyes darted down onto the table, which was empty, save for a newspaper, and a plate of long-stale crackers, which were beginning to attract ants from their time left unattended.

Risotto's heart sank like lead as the gravity of what those meant struck him harder than any blow from the Boss's stand. The newspaper was spread out at a crossword puzzle, the date: April 1st, 2001. Risotto wished this was all a fool's day trick, but the silence was all too real. All too agonizing to endure.

The crossword puzzle was half-finished, with angry scribbles and incorrect answers that Risotto recalled too well. Of the angry hollers of Ghiaccio, as he struggled to comprehend words, while Formaggio mocked him playfully for his incompetence while snacking on the table.

Now the remnants of Formaggio's last meal lay untouched, as if silently awaiting their consumer. But there was none. Once wise-cracking, prank-pulling, now just a charred, cold corpse on a street somewhere. Would he at least be laid to rest by whoever found his body? thought Risotto. Or would he be left to rot, be picked away by rats and roaches like garbage? Like the garbage he had always been treated as, by the world, by society, by the very gang they had found themselves trapped in?

The unfinished crossword puzzle also brought Risotto little comfort. He had always loathed Ghiaccio's rambling, his angry ranting at the most trivial of things. But now Risotto ached for that irate voice. He would have given anything to hear that voice one last time. Not that Ghiaccio's throat, pierced right through the spine and out his windpipe, drowned slowly in his own blood by Giovanna and his gunman, would ever make another sound again.

Risotto glared at the crossword puzzle, and the one word that Ghiaccio had managed to fill. "An eight letter word synonymous with forever."

Eternity.

Eternity. How painfully appropriate. Gone for eternity, never to be seen or heard from again. Forever. Just like the only family he ever had, with this one word, inked out in a sanguine red on the faded parchment, as if an ominous tiding of death.

The sight of these leftovers were too much for Risotto to bear, and despite the agony he heaved himself off the kitchen chair, stumbling to the living room and throwing himself onto the couch. His blood stained the faded, torn cushions, as he pressed his face into a pillow and muffled a scream. He breathed in through his nose, and caught a waft of a familiar scent. Prosciutto's cologne. His favorite pefume that he wore before...that mission. Risotto felt a lump in his throat.

Everywhere he looked, everywhere he went, the house was filled with little remains of everyday things, which like nails further hammered in the loss in his already wounded heart and soul. Scents. Sights. Sounds, or the lack thereof.

His knee accidentally pressed something hard on the sofa and with a static whirr the television came on. It was a dramatic soap opera currently on air. Melone and Illuso's favorite television show, featuring soppy tales of love and romance which they dutifully watched day after day, despite mocking jabs from Formaggio and Ghiaccio about their tastes in genre.

And now they will never know how the show ends. The last he had heard of Melone was a report from Ghiaccio claiming to have heard him scream on the phone and lose contact. And Illuso...was gone. Not just dead, but gone: vanished without a trace, melted into thin air, with not even a hair or piece of clothing to remind the world that he ever was.

Would anyone remember them? Would anybody even care?

They were just criminals to the world, weren't they? The scum of the earth, filthy, cold-blooded killers. They were the monsters of society, and to anyone else? They'd say they deserved to die.

But to Risotto, they were family. His family. His brothers in a way, who were all dragged in this horrid life by the cruel twists of fate. He'd wished to have escaped from the trappings of this mafia, but they were mired too deep into the quicksands of crime. He regretted deep inside having turned them into this life of a gangster. Especially Pesci. He was too young, too naive. He never deserved a life like this. He never deserved to see his big brother crushed under the wheels of a locomotive, and be torn apart alive shortly after by that damn Bucciarati's stand to spend his final moments in pain and terror at the cold, freezing abyss of a lake.

He despised himself at not having been able to save them. Of having failed to free them from the binds of this miserable existence. But it was too late. Since the day Sorbet and Gelato befell their dreadful end, he swore that he would lose no more further. But he did. One by one. And every single day, Risotto returned to find his home a little bit emptier.

Until there was none.

He was all alone in this cold, cruel, void, everyone he had ever cared about but a distant memory or a pallid lifeless corpse. There was nothing left for him. No one to turn to. Not even Formaggio's uplifting cracking jokes or Prosciutto's affectionate reassurance. He hated Giovanna and his allies for everything they did. If he could, he wanted to take their lives with his own bare hands, make them pay for the pain they wrought. But what would it bring him? Satisfaction? Justice?

There is no justice in this wretched world, Risotto thought bitterly. That's why I am here in the first place.

He could murder Giovanna and Bucciarati and the Boss for all he cared, but the damage was already done. Nothing he could do would bring back his family. They were dead, gone forever, and all of his efforts would have been in vain.

There was nothing left for him, but a future of emptiness.

Why did he have to suffer? What did he do to deserve all this? They were bad people who did bad things, but it wasn't their fault they were forced to become what they were. Risotto whimpered like a frightened child as he curled up on the bloodstained sofa, embracing himself tightly in a futile effort to make the pain go away, the pain of his body's wounds, and the agony that seared his soul like hellfire.

He wanted the pain to end.

A gleam caught his eye, down next to the sofa. Something black and shiny lay tucked against one side of the cushions It was Prosciutto's spare revolver, which he kept in good condition, and kept hidden away in case his original was lost or damaged if a mission went wrong.

It couldn't have gone more wrong.

Everything had gone wrong.

Their entire life had gone wrong.

With trembling hands and heaving breath Risotto reached out for the revolver and felt its cold, hard steel touch menacingly, and yet enticingly, to his stiff, shivering fingers.

Maybe this would make the pain go away.

For eternity.

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(afterword: yeah, told you this would get really depressing. i didn't know if Risotto would kill himself or choose to continue living, in which case he would just suffer all the more so yeah i never made a chapter two. oh well. sorry all you squadra fans for making you cry today)

#jjba #jjba part 5 #la squadra #tw death #tw suicide implication #okay first of all let me just-#*SOBS*#you are a talented writer and have too much power #holy shit #my heart wrenches now #thanks you weren't joking #submission

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thetroublewithhim · 3 years

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Fitzgerald Walter Clarance, 18-23, gay, Ohio USA NSFW 18+ indie roleplay dark themes TW Trauma SA Very Dark Themes Angst

I have roleplayed Fitz on multiple blogs since 2009.

(Bio and Rules below for mobile users)

About

TW: TRAUMA / RAPE / VIOLENCE / MENTAL HEALTH STRUGGLE

Fitz was happy young man. The brightest smile, a cheeky attitude, a flamboyant personality and looks that could stop someone in their tracks. He started gymnastics as a child and went on to complete across the world bringing home titles, medals and awards. He was popular at school, a natural flirt, funny and bright.

He was told often that he was lucky to have successful and wealthy parents but Fitz didn’t know the difference, he didn’t care about money, frankly he didn’t see what all the fuss was about. He hardly saw his parents anyway. Their home was way too big, whole rooms stood empty and collected dust, the hallways felt sterile and cold. The sound of cleaners, maids and the odd security guard made the home feel less lonely.

Being so young and unsupervised was the perfect recipe for Fitz and Logan to get into trouble. They spent evenings smoking weed on the roof, pushing Logan around in his wheelchair in the empty swimming pool. Fitz had groups of friends and crushes over to make out under the stars and drink until they were sick in the bushes. The only person who checked on them was the cook they affectionately named “Big Mama”.

For a little fun Fitz decided to send a love note to his maths teacher Mr Day that he had a crush on, he was asked to stay behind after class. Mr Day invited Fitz to do a private study session at his home, an apartment further into the city. Fitz decided to go, he found it funny and a little weird but didn’t think too much of it.

The memories between Fitz sitting in his school uniform on Mr Days sofa and 10-18 hours after where he was shivering, bruised, terrified and nearly naked behind the dumpsters is still hazy to this day. He remembers being dragged by his hair across the apartment. He remembers pain. He remembers making a run to the door and not being able to undo the lock. He remembers how Mr Day grabbed him from behind with one hand over his mouth and other on his throat. He remembers thinking that he was going to die. He remembers the gymnastics badge that had fallen on the floor that seamed to capture his attention. Fitz still cant remember how he made it from the apartment to the dumpsters, he cant recall how he got home.

What he knows from paperwork and documents from the court case was that Fitz did not go to the hospital until 3 months later. That he had been missing from school and his parents had told the school that Fitz must have been sick without ever checking up on him.

Lack of evidence, an untrustworthy victim who was also the only witness, no cctv or security cameras did not go down well in court. The newspapers printed that Fitz had lied before the case could even be seen by a jury. The love note was published and passed around the school. Everyone had made their mind up, Fitz had not been raped and held captive, to everyone Fitz was just a obsessed schoolboy who wanted revenge because he was rejected by his crush and maths teacher Mr Day.

Trauma is a confusing and terrifying thing to live with. Fitz’s minds best attempt to protect him, to survive through things that Fitz was not capable of processing now leaves him feeling like the world can be too overwhelming to deal with. Fitz is still the same boy he was before. His old enough now to look at old pictures of himself and see that he was just a child.

George day gets to live his life without any consequence’s. Fitz felt like he would never recover. Through all of the injustice, lack of any closure, lies said about him, losing his friends, losing his poor excuse for a support system and a lifetime of trauma Fitz still works towards a life he would be proud of.

Vintage Fitz Au description coming soon

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RULES

18+ NSFW This is a smut friendly blog. I will not write with any minors and this blog is made for people who are 18+.

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Smut and Ships I am a shipping whore. I love writing ships. All the ships and smut on all of my blogs are for creative writing purposes only and do not reflect my own thoughts and feelings. If you do not like a ship of mine then you don’t have to write it, if it makes you upset then feel free to block me.

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Have fun Lets remember that this is a hobby. Lets have fun. I am just a message away if our threads are not working or if you have an new idea.

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#rp #roleplay #gay roleplay #angst roleplay #dark themes rp #face claim Darren Criss #gay rp #indie rp #indie roleplay #OC Rp #open roleplay #open rp

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 5: I’ve Lived The Life And Paid For Every Crime]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Some Kind Of Disaster by All Time Low.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to drugs and violence.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @writerxinthedark @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @loveandbeloved29

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

Easy Questions, Evasive Answers

“So it was nothing,” Archer said, glancing up from where he was tinkering around beneath the hood of my 1999 Honda Accord, checking hoses and belts and dipsticks. “This is pathetic, by the way. That you can’t change your own windshield wiper fluid. Dishonor on you. Dishonor on your cow.”

“I never had my own car in Phoenix!” I objected around a mouthful of a Starbucks pumpkin muffin, my first of the season. And that was true: Renee and I couldn’t afford one. “I didn’t have to learn about car things!”

“No, it’s great, I love it, I have a customer for life.”

“It was totally nothing,” I told him. Meaning the photograph in the newspaper article from 1979. Meaning my paranoia surrounding beautiful, brooding, certifiably lethal Benjamin Lee.

Not Lee, I reminded myself. Benjamin August Hardy, born November 3rd 1893.

“Was it really?” Archer asked, skeptical.

“Uhhh, you were the one who was making fun of me for thinking he might be a time traveler. Or a bigfoot.” Or a vampire.

“Yeah, okay, true...” He let the hood of the Honda fall shut with a bang, then wiped the muddy streaks of motor oil from his hands with a stained rag. “But you were freaked out. Like super freaked out.”

“I was, yeah. But it wasn’t him in the photo. I took another look, there were freckles and, uh, like, uh, some other things that didn’t match up.”

“Huh.” Archer watched me with an expression I couldn’t read. “I didn’t notice that.”

“Ben laughed about it. Probably thinks I’m an idiot. A stalker and an idiot.”

Archer smirked slyly. “He must not have held it against you too much. I’ve never seen that guy laugh in my life.”

I took a moody bite of my muffin, rolled my eyes, feigned shallow schoolgirl angst. “Trust me, he’s not my biggest fan.”

“Ohhhh, and this bothers you?” Archer sauntered over and stole a crumbling hunk out of the pumpkin muffin. “Does someone have a little crush on the gorgeous, grouchiest Lee?”

“Definitely not.” I sipped my chai latte, contemplative, debating telling him more.

“Uh oh. There’s something else, I can see it. Spill the tea, you walking college-chick-who’s-obsessed-with-fall stereotype.”

“I’m so excited! I’m going to get to see changing leaves this year!” Cacti are majestic, ancient, intrepid, and they remind me of home; but they never change. They’re like desert earth that way, like the ocean. Like vampires, actually.

“We’ll have to do all the Instagram-worthy stuff. Pumpkin patches. Hay mazes. Apple picking...you can even bring that Ben guy if you want to. If he promises not to murder me with his mysterious time-travelling demon powers.”

Oh, kid, you have no idea. “So...I am kind of into a Lee guy. But it’s not Ben.”

Archer gasped, inhaled pumpkin muffin morsels, bent over as he hacked them out of his lungs. “Who?!” he rasped, scandalized, and then coughed again.

I couldn’t help but smile as his name spilled out: “Joe.”

“Which one is that? The Middle Eastern Men’s Vogue model one?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No, not Rami. He has a girlfriend, by the way.” And has for the past half a century.

Archer wiggled his eyebrows. “Just because there’s a goalie doesn’t mean you can’t score.”

“Oh my god, please never say that phrase again.”

“Joe is the...” He closed his eyes as he drummed his fingers against the metal workbench, trying to remember.

“The Italian one,” I finished for him.

“Ahhh. The annoying one.”

“He is not annoying! Why do people keep saying he’s annoying?! He’s hilarious, and sweet, and lowkey wicked smart, and, and, and...”

Archer whistled, grinning, his dark eyes sparkling. “Damn, girl. You do like him. You really like him.”

I sighed in defeat. “Okay. I really, really like him.”

“Like him as in would swipe right on Tinder, or like him as in you want to get married and honeymoon in Hawaii and have twelve pasty, angular babies?”

“Oh wow.” And for the first time, I was confronted with the singular enigma that was a future with Joe. Vampires had relationships with other vampires, obviously, even marriages; but that didn’t mean the same rules applied to humans. Did he like me? Could he like me? What would that even look like? How would it end? And it would have to end, of course, eventually. Unless somehow I stopped aging too. “More than just a right swipe. We’ll see about the twelve kids.”

“Just make sure he wraps it before he taps it. I’m too young to be an uncle.”

“Stop,” I pleaded, gulping down my latte, averting my gaze across Archer’s small garage filled with customers’ vehicles, pretending not to be intrigued and yearning and petrified. I couldn’t imagine hooking up with someone as faultless and—presumably—experienced as Joe and being anything but a disappointment. I’ve never hooked up with anyone. At all. Ever.

“What?” he asked, concerned, thieving another piece of my pumpkin muffin. Powdered sugar dusted his fingers like the snow I’ve only seen two or three times in my life.

“Nothing. I just really wish you went to Calawah too.”

“And give up all this easy money from clueless suburbs people like you?” Archer beamed, wily and proud and affectionate. “Not a fucking chance.”

No More Sad Spaghetti

Joe gawked in horror, chomping noisily on his Big League Chew bubblegum, as I unwrapped the peanut butter sandwich I’d packed for lunch. It was mostly cloudy in the early September sky overhead, but he was still wearing sunglasses. He had traded in his ubiquitous U Chicago apparel for a Cubs t-shirt. Squirrels scurried through the bigleaf maple trees that dotted the campus, snatching up acorns with tiny clawed paws, wriggling whiskered noses in our direction.

“What’s your problem?” I asked, taking a bite. “It’s not sad spaghetti.”

He blew a small pink bubble, then popped it with his teeth. “Yeah, but it’s...like...mangled.”

“It got trapped between my textbooks!” I protested. Admittedly, the accordion-shaped peanut butter sandwich—my vegetarian alternative to fishstick Thursday—kind of sucked.

“You can’t eat that. Oh my god. It’s making me so sad. Give it to the squirrels.” Joe pulled out his iPhone. “What’s your preferred pizza topping?”

“I can’t tell you,” I replied, tossing my sandwich towards the nearest tree. A hoard of squirrels immediately descended upon it and proceeded to battle for dominance, emitting shrill, peanut-butter-crazed shrieks.

His brow furrowed. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because you might not like me anymore.”

“Why would I not like you because of pizza...?” And then he knew. “Oh no, oh god, please don’t say pineapple.”

“I’m a pineapple pizza person.”

“Baby Swan,” Joe said, deadly serious, pressing his palms together. “That is straight up sacrilegious. You can’t put tropical fruit on a pizza. You realize I’m Italian, like an actual Italian. I’m so Italian I’ve killed other Italians for being the wrong kind of Italian. That’s how Italian I am.”

“I feel like maybe I shouldn’t socialize with literal mobsters. It’s unsavory.”

“Settle down, I’m ordering the half-pineapple pizza, you freaking barbarian.”

I watched Joe as he tapped his thumbs against the screen, humming to himself, amused, perpetually buoyant. And I couldn’t picture him as a monster, as a killer: pulling triggers, slitting throats, digging blades into soft vulnerable love handles, feeling for the mortal puncture of a lung or kidney. I asked him, my voice quiet, hesitant, almost lost in the autumn wind: “Did you actually hurt people?”

“Nah. I didn’t have the stomach for it, even back then. I was on the deal-making side of things. The business side. I was a people person, a smooth talker, astronomically charming.”

I smiled, mischievous. “That’s difficult to imagine.”

“Okay, so no cheesy breadsticks for you.”

“I’m sorry, mob guy. Please order the breadsticks. You’re so charming I can’t stand it. My jeans are unzipping all by themselves.”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “So you’ll sacrifice your dignity for breadsticks. Good to know.” He finished typing and laid his iPhone on the grass. “Alright, next question.”

“Does your hair grow?” Joe’s hair—I couldn’t help but notice—seemed longer than it was the day I met him a week and a half ago, disorderly and auburn-tinted, ruffling in the breeze.

“It does, yeah. Hair and nails still grow. So you have to shave, but you can’t get razor burn. And any nicks close right up.”

“Very cool. How often do you need to eat? You know...actually eat.”

“It varies, but generally twice a week.”

“And what kind of animal has the tastiest blood? Besides...well...” I gestured towards myself. “The upright two-legged kind with opposable thumbs and a partiality for pineapple pizza.”

He blew another bubble, then leaned in towards me. And I realized, for the first time, that he had his own inherent, exclusive, totally Bath-And-Body-Works-worthy scent as well; Dr. Gwilym Lee was sandalwood and campfires and log cabins, Mercy was roses and vanilla...and Joe was pine trees, peppermint, cold night air, like all of that eternally youthful magic of Christmas Eve sieved into a bottle. I popped the sheer pink bubble with the cap of my blue pen. Joe asked: “Do humans like chocolate or vanilla ice cream? Coffee or tea? Baseball or something hella lame?”

“Depends on the human.”

“Exactly. Same deal for vampires. I prefer bears, especially grizzlies. Lucy and Mercy like deer, elk, moose, animals like that. Ones with hooves. Weirdly, Rami’s favorite is crocodile, I think because it was the first thing he ever tried in Egypt. He doesn’t get it very often, but has been known to buy them on the black market on occasion. Scarlett likes mountain lions. Also domestic cats, but you didn’t hear that from me. Gwil is a wolf guy, but he won’t kill the endangered kinds. Such a gentleman.”

“How about Ben?”

“Ben’s still coming around to the whole eating animals thing. I don’t think he has a favorite yet.”

Joe isn’t a killer, and he never was; I could believe that. But Ben... “Why is he so different than the rest of you?”

“That’s...kind of a long story,” Joe replied carefully.

“It wouldn’t be such a long story if people stopped talking about how it’s a long story and actually told it to me.”

He flashed a grin, revealing white canine teeth filed into points; they were subtle, yes, but they were there. Fangs. I envisioned pressing a fingerprint against them and feeling the flesh split in two, the blood dripping down onto his tongue like Washington rain. And unlike Joe’s skin, mine wouldn’t knit back together on its own. “But then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of tormenting you with the prospect of incredibly juicy yet confidential information!”

I rolled my eyes, sipped my can of Diet Coke, returned my attention to our lunch plans. “So garlic doesn’t repel you. That part of the lore is completely made up.”

“Yup. Thank god. Eternal life would be worthless without pizza.”

“Can you do drugs? Get drunk?”

“We can’t overdose, but we can get the effects of anything we consume. It’s not a good habit to get into though. If you’re nodding on heroin for like four days at a time, it’s pretty easy for some other vampire to find and murder you.”

“So a vampire can be killed by another vampire.”

“Absolutely. Next question.”

I consulted my mental list. “Do you sleep?”

“Yeah. Well, kind of. We nap for a few hours a day.”

“What happens if you don’t?”

“We get bitchy. Really bitchy. We essentially turn into Ben.”

I laughed, chewing absentmindedly on the end of my pen. “So that’s his problem. He hasn’t napped in a century. Now it all makes sense.”

“Something like that,” Joe said. “You gonna come over tonight?”

“I don’t know. I’m supposed to present The Walruses And Me tomorrow and I still haven’t started the book.”

“What do you know, I can tell you all about The Walruses And Me!”

“Seriously? You’ve read it?”

“No, but I can enthusiastically narrate the Wikipedia article to you while you pet Mercy’s alpacas.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Terrible for your grade in Marine Mammals. Good for your development as an interesting and happy human.”

“Nice try, but I’m already both of those things.”

Joe reached out suddenly, jarringly, and ran the back of his hand across my cheek. My favorite Lee, I thought, thoroughly transfixed but trying to hide it. Oh no. “Interesting, definitely. But I have this gnawing, distressing suspicion that you’re still working on the happy part.”

“I miss the desert,” I confessed. That wasn’t quite all of the problem, but it was accurate: I missed the heat, the sun, the parched prehistoric air I had always called home. Although I was beginning to find reasons to like Forks, Charlie and Archer and the promise of a Pacific Northwestern autumn; and then one big reason in particular. A very old, pale, chatty, Italian reason.

“A bit of a quandary for a future marine biologist,” he replied gently, perhaps apprehensively.

“I always figured I’d live somewhere like San Diego or Los Angeles or Galveston. Someplace on the ocean, but also sunny and hot and with palm trees. The best of both worlds. But you couldn’t go there with me, could you?”

Oh no.

Oh NO.

Oh fuck, this is definitely a crushing-on-Lee-boys zone.

Joe stared at me through his sunglasses, chomping on his Big League Chew, the corners of his mouth turned up and etching lines like parentheses into his face, pleased and nodding slowly and triumphant somehow. Then he struck out his hand again, this time with his pinky raised like a flagpole. “No more pathetic depressing lunches.”

“You got it. No more sad spaghetti. No more sad peanut butter sandwiches. You have my solemn, human vow.”

He smiled as his pinky entwined with mine. “No more sad anything.”

“So this vampire thing sounds like a pretty sweet gig. No dying, no consequences for a hellacious diet or wild condomless orgies, literal superpowers, perfect hair...why doesn’t everyone get to live that way?”

He shrugged; and there was an unfamiliar, meditative tension in his face. Almost sorrow. “It’s not all pizza and orgies and heroin. We have weaknesses too.”

“Like what?”

“Hey, look!” Joe piped cheerfully, twisting around towards the parking lot. “I think our GrubHub guy is here.”

Bad Blood

I was definitely regretting that fourth slice of pineapple pizza as I waddled into Chemistry, navigating sluggishly around the hulking frat boys and giggling sorority girls and mousy bookish types who lugged around colossal backpacks that were always threatening to knock an unsuspecting passerby off their feet at each unthinking turn. But while I was arriving in the classroom—physically, anyway; emotionally I was standing in an empty field somewhere screaming I cannot be falling in love with a hundred-year-old mobster vampire!! into the void—Ben was a countercurrent darting through the crowds and towards the hallway door.

“Where are you rushing off to, old guy?” I asked him. “Bingo? To renew your AARP membership? To walk vigorously around the inside of a mall?”

Ben responded in that deep, low, humorless voice. “They’re doing some kind of blood typing experiment today. I probably shouldn’t be around for that.”

“Oh.” I glanced over at Professor Belvin, who was indeed hunched over the table at the front of the classroom and laying out rows of Q-tips and rectangular paper cards and alcohol swabs and bottles of clear liquid, whistling what sounded like Time Of The Season.

Ben sighed irritably, rubbing his crinkled forehead. “I already used up all my absences. I’m gonna have to make up a compelling last-minute tragedy. Tell Professor Belvin my grandma died or something.”

“I mean, technically, she did at some point.”

“Ugh,” Ben replied, not consoled at all.

“Wait, I got this.”

I gripped my belly, sank into the nearest chair, and groaned dramatically. It really didn’t require all that much acting. Ben watched with huge green eyes, confounded.

“Miss Swan!” Professor Belvin cried, rushing over. He was wearing khaki pants, a white shirt, and suspenders and a matching bowtie patterned with bubbling multicolored test tubes. Belvin had been Charlie’s classmate from kindergarten through high school, and still palled around with him over Bud Lights and low-quality nachos on bowling league nights. Bowling was, evidently, the sport of choice for middle-aged Forks dads. Also for Welsh vampire pseudo-dads born in the 1400s.

I whimpered in reply.

“Are you alright, Miss Swan?” Professor Belvin asked worriedly. A few students had begun to congregate around the scene. I felt a pang of genuine nausea as perspiration beaded at my temples. You better appreciate this, Mr. Hardy.

“I’m okay,” I said, in my most pained and martyrish voice. “I don’t want to miss...today’s lesson...it looks so fascinating...but I didn’t wash my kale thoroughly last night and then I had a salad for dinner and now I might have food poisoning.”

“You poor thing!” Belvin exclaimed, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about class. You can just answer some textbook questions or something, no problem. Please go get checked out to make sure you’re alright.”

“Could someone...maybe...help me get to the campus clinic...?” My eyes listed towards Ben. “Maybe...my lab partner?”

“That’s a good idea.” Professor Belvin turned to Ben. “Mr. Lee, would you be willing to escort Miss Swan to the clinic? You can do an alternative assignment as well. If you don’t mind missing the blood typing lab.”

“I’d be delighted to help,” Ben responded, still puzzled. I offered him my hand, and Ben took it, grimacing as he led me out into the hallway. As soon as we were alone, he dropped my hand and opened up several feet of space between us.

“Thanks so much, Miss Swan, you are a lifesaver,” I said, imitating his morose, rumbling British accent. “Oh, you’re very welcome, Ben. You can repay me in basic courteous conversation and Starbucks gift cards and by maybe not killing me.”

“So you’re totally fine?” Ben asked flatly.

“Of course. Nobody with taste eats raw kale.”

Frowning, frustrated, he started puffing on his vape pen. “You need to stop doing nice things for me. It’s extremely disorienting.”

“This may be difficult for you to come to terms with, but you, Ben Hardy, are worth being the recipient of nice things.”

“No, you still don’t get it,” he snapped, grabbing my wrist, spinning me around to face him in the empty hallway. “That’s all I’ve ever done. Kill people like you.”

The Fire

“Who is the cutest little alpaca I’ve ever seen?!” I cooed in a squeaky falsetto, scratching her wooly brown chin. “Who’s going to come home and live with me and Charlie forever?!”

“That’s illegal, ma’am.” Joe was watching me, arms crossed over his Chicago Cubs t-shirt, smiling wistfully.

“It is not!”

“It actually is,” Rami added. He was lying on the grass and gazing up into the roiling, grey, late-afternoon clouds with his fingers laced behind his black hair. None of the Lees were wearing sunglasses now. “A house has to be zoned as farmland to have alpacas, which ours is. Yours, tragically, is not.”

“What are you, a lawyer?” I shot back.

Rami grinned. “I was once. And I will be again, in approximately...let me count...five years.”

“That’s what you want to do with your boundless time and energy? Be a corporate shill?”

Joe cackled. “He tried that already. It lasted about five minutes.”

“Manhattan in the 1980s,” Rami reminisced dreamily. “Hundred-hour workweeks. Cocaine everywhere. What a time to be alive. And I hardly ever left the office, so the sunlight thing wasn’t a problem.”

“Okay, so you’re not in it for the Maseratis or the drugs...”

“I’m going to be an immigration attorney,” Rami told me. “Help refugees apply for asylum to come to the United States. Arabic-speaking refugees, in particular.”

“Wow. I stand corrected. That’s wonderful, Rami. I now feel like a total tool for only aspiring to save sea turtles.” But it made sense, of course. What would any good person spend eternity doing? Making the world just a tiny bit better. I glanced at Joe, teasing him. “And you just study how to get rich, huh?”

“I’m a venture capitalist,” he said brightly. “I invest in small businesses, counsel them, encourage them, connect them with other people in the industry, help them grow. And I don’t need the money, so I take a practically microscopic equity stake. I’m basically a professional charitable donor.”

“And you get to put all of those charming mob-guy skills to use.”

Joe winked. “Exactly.”

“Doesn’t it get old?” I asked both of them. “Being college students?”

Rami shrugged. “No really. The world changes, schools of thought evolve, our own interests fluctuate. Every few decades we circle back and go for another round, fresh degrees, maybe new professions entirely. You learn something new every time.”

“And I’ve been waiting for all my old professors to die so I could go back to U Chicago for fifty years!” Joe shouted. “I’m fucking pumped!”

“But...don’t you already know everything...?”

Joe chuckled. “We’re vampires, Baby Swan, we’re not prodigies. We’re sharper than the average person, sure. But it still takes effort to learn. And we all have things we suck at.”

“Like not being obnoxious,” Rami said, nodding to Joe.

“Like not minding our own fucking business,” Joe hurled back.

“I cannot control the fact that I’m a literal mind reader—”

“You boys behave yourselves,” Mercy called in her relaxed, drawling Southern accent, swinging a basket of carrots and zucchinis and cabbages that she’d dug out of her garden, wearing a long flowing yellow dress and her hair tied up in a scarf. She plodded over in her bare feet, handed me a few carrots, then pointed to the chocolate-colored alpaca I was petting. “That lady there is Athens. And the black and white one by Joe is Augusta. Then there’s Norcross, and Alpharetta, and Savannah...and that real chubby grey one heading into the barn is Marietta.”

“I adore them,” I replied, beaming. Mercy had sheep and pigs and a couple of cows too, all ambling contently around the emerald green field as the first threads of fiery, rust-hued sunset were lighting up the horizon.

“We used to have ducks, too,” Mercy mused. “But they disappeared recently...”

Rami passed Joe a knowing smirk. Joe mouthed back menacingly: Do not.

“Hey mom,” Rami piped.

Joe jabbed an index finger at him. “No, don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare—”

“Joe ate the ducks.”

“You bitch!” Joe cried.

“Oh, Joseph,” Mercy sighed mournfully, lifting a brush out of her basket and dragging it down Athens’ fuzzy back.

“I’m sorry! It was one time! I was weak!”

“I’m not angry, sweetheart,” Mercy said. “I’m just disappointed.”

“Mom, that’s worse!”

Rami climbed to his feet and swatted grass and leaves off his cardigan sweater. “Alright folks. My work here is done. Peace out.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to do a hit and run like that, hey, Rami, hey, hey, come back here!”

Joe trotted after him, shouting a litany of insults, as Rami laughed hysterically and careened into the house. Lucy and Gwil were in the kitchen baking chocolate chip cookies; Scarlett was in the garage changing the brakes on Ben’s Vantage; Ben was noticeably absent from the Lee household and presumably out hunting. It was remarkably easy to picture his fingers closing around bloodied flesh, a wolf’s or a bear’s or an elk’s, lowering his fangs to a pulsing jugular.

“So you’re really into this whole farming thing,” I said to Mercy, looking out over the field rimmed by towering western hemlock trees. I didn’t know exactly how many acres of land the Lees owned, but it was a lot. Mercy adopted rescue animals, donated vegetables from the garden to local food pantries, and occasionally rented out the barn as a wedding venue.

“I’ve always loved it. I had a farm, you know. Before I met Gwil.”

Before she died.

“I didn’t know that,” I murmured, wanting to learn more, afraid to ask, never meaning to pry or offend. “I remember you mentioned the Civil War, and a barn...being...well...being trapped in it. When it burned down.”

Mercy nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that’s the polite version of the story, isn’t it?” She set down her basket in the tall grass, tugged distractedly at a dark strand of hair that had escaped her scarf, stared glassily out into the sunset muted with cloud cover as Athens moseyed away. “Do you want to know what happened? I’ll tell you if you do. But I don’t want to upset you, dear.”

My voice was barely a whisper. “I’d like to know.”

“We had a little farm out in the middle of nowhere,” Mercy explained. “My husband Arthur and I.”

And it felt so outlandish to hear her say those words. Husband. She had a husband before Gwil. She had a whole life before this one.

“He had a bullet in one leg and a limp from a hunting accident when he was a boy, so he was never called up to enlist. It was a rich man’s war, but it was the poor men they sent to die in it. That’s how it always goes, I expect. And how it always will. We had two daughters, twelve and fifteen. I won’t tell you their names. Don’t take that personally, dear. I haven’t spoken their names in a hundred and fifty years.”

She turned her murky eyes—like homemade bread crust or coffee or the wood walls of a log cabin—to me.

“When the Union Army came through, they were beasts. Men like that...men who have been killing and looting and burning their way across hundreds of miles...all they want to do is get blood on their hands. That’s all they remember how to do. So that’s exactly what they did. They slaughtered our cattle for meat. They burned the house down. And then they took me and my girls, and they...they...well, you know what they did. What men do when they’re monsters. And when Arthur tried to stop them, they shot him in the chest and spit mouthfuls of chewing tobacco on him as he bled out in the dirt. Called him a coward and a deserter. Told him everything they were planning to do to me and my girls. And when they were done doing all of those things, they locked the three of us in the barn and set it ablaze. I was the only one still alive when Gwilym got there. And believe me, I didn’t want to be.”

“I’m so sorry,” I breathed, my throat burning for Mercy, for her family, for this divinely kind and benign and tender woman.

She patted my cheek fondly. “It’s alright, sweetheart. It’s not your fault. I got a second chance. Gwilym gave me a second chance. That’s what he does, you know. He finds broken people, fixes them, loves them fiercely. He gave me forever. Two more daughters. And three sons.”

Three sons, I thought. Rami and Joe and Ben. She counted Ben.

“Does someone have to be dying?” I asked her softly. “You know. To become like you.”

“No, honey. That’s just how Gwil does things.”

“But...why? What’s the possible downside? Why not change anyone who wants it?” Why not change someone like me?

And Mercy peered over at me, contemplative, curious, like tiptoeing gingerly over rotted floorboards, like weaving through a minefield. Like she was trying to figure out what I’d already been told.

“Hey Baby Swan,” Joe said, startling me. I whirled to see him waiting with a patient smile and his hands buried in his pockets. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

He led me upstairs to Gwil’s 1960s-style office, where Dr. Lee had cleaned and stitched the tiny gash in my forehead after my misadventure with Ben in the woods outside Calawah University, where the wall above the sturdy oak desk was adorned with a massive painting filled with gorgeous, unfamiliar, inhuman faces. Joe took a deep breath, and then he began.

“This,” he announced, introducing the painting, “is the vampire version of the mob. They can trace their existence back to before the Roman Empire. They find people who they think have potential, have talents. They turn them. And then they offer them a hundred-year contract. You sign it, or they murder you. When your term is up, you get to decide whether to renew or leave. But almost no one ever leaves. After a century of taking orders and guarding and killing, what else do you know how to do?” He pointed to the terrifying woman with long white hair and red eyes. “That’s Liesl. She’s literally Satan, only blonder. The chick with the tattoos is Akari. She can meet a human and tell what powers they’ll have once they’re changed. Very useful, obviously. The dude who looks like Idris Elba is Cato, and he’s actually an okay guy, he’s the one currently assigned to keep tabs on Gwil’s coven...”

I soaked the names in like rain into dark, lush Washington earth as Joe relayed them to me, strange and beautiful names: Aruna, Phelan, Morana, Adair, Zora, Araminta, Honora, Victorien, Rigel, Sahel.

“Who’s that?” I asked, gesturing to the young man standing at the center of the painting, the one with black hair and eyes so light and luminous a brown they were almost gold and a sinister, unmistakable magnetism.

“Very good question,” Joe complimented. “That’s their Al Capone. That’s Larkin.”

“And what’s his vampire superpower?” He has to have one. I know he does.

“How do I even put that into words? It’s more than charisma. It’s slightly less than mind reading. He can see through people, what they want most, what they fear. And he can make them do things.”

I gazed into those omniscient glowing eyes, feeling myself getting caught there, feeling some primal dread swelling in the capillary beds of my heart and lungs and bone marrow. “Joe, I’m thoroughly enjoying this captivating backstory, really, but...why are you telling me all of this now?”

“Because you asked why Ben is so different than the rest of us. This is why.” Joe waved broadly at the painting, at the closest thing his world had to a mafia, to unrepentant killers, to actual demons. “This is where he came from.”

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medicus-mortem · 3 years

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@mediicusvitae asked: „I‘m sorry, it’s not nearly as fancy as the other gifts you got today,“ Lamy muttered, awkwardly shuffling over to him in a quiet moment between the ruckus of celebrations. In her hands, she held the reason why she had been chased by an angry flock of librarians on the last island the Tang had docked at. She had dug around in mountains of paper, centuries worth of news, before she had finally found and promptly stolen her objective. It was a frayed edition of the World Economy News Paper. A little bookmark was placed in it for an article celebrating a medical breakthrough of the doctors from the White Town, tucked between wanted posters and other news from the four Blues. A yellowed picture showed rows upon rows of lab coats standing in front of the hospital, the architecture beautiful and imposing and whole. Two joyful faces smiled into the camera from the left front, and their late parents’ fingers lingered next to each other, almost as if they had reached out to hold hands moments before the picture was taken. Years ago, that newspaper clipping had hung in their home, carefully snipped out and placed into a frame. „I… I don’t even know. I had no idea what to get you,“ she trailed off. Ikkaku had somewhat briefed her in about his likes and dislikes, but most of those things his, no — their crewmates had already prepared for him. Lamy pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. „Should‘ve just went with some nice coffee…“

Birthday Stuff

Law sips at his whiskey, sighing as he watches his crew take the party else where. He adores all of them but sometimes their love can get a bit suffocating. Still, he doesn’t stop the small smile that tugs at his lips or the warm feeling in his chest. Sometimes they really do manage to make this day a decent one. He can never say it is a good one, but it is tolerable and not so bad.

His sister comes over, motions awkward and words muttered. Law’s gaze drops to the paper she has in her hand and takes in the way she passes it to him. It looks to be a particularly old edition. Can’t imagine what would be in it that Lamy thinks he might enjoy but to be quite honest just having her here on one of his birthday’s is enough of a gift. There have been so many when he wished she was present, when he’d let himself hope for a brief moment before reality crushed that soon after.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it sis,” he says, putting down his drink and giving Lamy a smile. As he takes the newspaper he gives her hair an affectionate ruffle, gaze soon falling to the paper in his hands. “Gonna be honest here but I’d rather these idiots didn’t throw extravagant gifts at me.”

As she goes on, clearly suffering a severe case of gift doubt, Law notices the bookmark showing where he should open the paper to. He does just that and in an instant his marginally up beat attitude just shatters. Law freezes, eyes going wide and breathing stopping. Hands clench into the paper, the old material crumpling in his grasp. There was a time when Law began to worry he was forgetting his parents faces. He knew he suffered a trauma induced amnesia, one that causes so many of his positive memories before Flevance burned to become indistinguishable blurs. The faces of his parents were something he felt was slowly leaving him but this proves that wrong.

There they are, right in front of him and smiling. Hands so close to touching, an indication of how much love they had for each other and the love they could give their children. So proud of themselves and promising so much good for the world. The hospital behind them was meant to be a place of healing, was meant to save lives. Instead it burned. An image his brain places over the sight of those smiling, hopeful faces. Law’s eyes grow damp, his teeth tight. Mind pounds, the very action of trying to remember painful.

Law closes the paper and pushes it down on the counter, both hands gripping it to steady himself. Breaths are heavy, the doctor having to drag in every gulp of oxygen. Eyes close, trying to cut off the tears he knows are coming. Instead they release and he hunches, hands rising to claw at his hair and head lowering towards the counter. Damn it, he doesn’t know what to do with this.

“ ... L-lamy,” he finally croaks, not wanting to look her in the eyes and show what a simple image of them does to him. “Do you really want me to frame that picture and put it up? Could you ... could you stand to see them every day, frozen like that?”

#mediicusvitae #Boring Question // Answered Ask #As Planned // IC #birthday boy #[oooh boy #ouch]

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derireo · 4 years

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were you surprised? / all troupes

Request: Hello hello~ I just discovered your blog and I've been reading your a3 fics and I love it!! ❤️❤️ If it isn't too much trouble can I request a scenario with all the troupes planning a surprise bday party for the reader/director? the writing could be similar to steambun and be mine sorry if it's too much ._. anyways hope you're having a wonderful day 😘

Thanks, Anon, for the support! I’m really happy to hear that you enjoy reading the fics I write! Also PS. I accidentally wrote this in third person rather than second person so it might be a little... weird. >.< Thank you for the request! And also I did not proofread this lol!

「 Read full ver. on AO3 」「 3k words 」

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

SPRING TROUPE

"Yeah," Itaru picked at his fingernails, itching to grab his phone and play a game, "we are not doing that."

Masumi had come up with a less than original idea of popping out of a large present box to surprise their director on her birthday. He thought it'd be something that would truly shock her, and he didn't think him being the present wasn't too shabby either.

Despite the solemn, disagreeing looks on Itaru and Tsuzuru's faces, Masumi only shrugged and wrote it down on the paper that had a list of what they were going to do for the impromptu celebration.

"You know we only have a couple of hours to do something, right?" Sakuya's voice was trembling with anxiousness and he fiddled with his thumbs when he took a quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall.

They had learned it was the director's birthday when Matsukawa gleefully greeted her in the morning by placing a party hat on her head.

It was also quite the surprise for everyone in the morning when Tetsuro was seen holding a small cupcake in his large hand with a single lit candle stabbed in the centre. It seemed so uncharacteristic of such a large silent man, but it was endearing to the birthday girl.

Masumi almost crushed his glass of water when he watched her hug Tetsuro as thanks.

"We don't have to think big. Just some thank you cards and cupcakes should suffice." Tsuzuru reasoned with Masumi while Itaru and Sakuya nodded in agreement.

Citron frowned alongside Masumi, and with crossed arms, plopped down onto the sofa between him and Itaru who was fiddling around with his phone without anything on the screen.

"Doesn't the director deserve more than just that though?"

Aggressively nodding his head, Masumi dropped the pen on the table and sat back, not willing to write anything else on the piece of paper that has their plans.

Tsuzuru quickly swiped a hand down his face out of habit of stress and looked for both Itaru and Sakuya for help. The two could only shrug sympathetically.

"Itaru and Sakuya are writing cards," the university student clapped his hands decisively, "Masumi, Citron, you're helping me bake cupcakes."

And so their surprise party for the director was in full effect! It was terrifying for Sakuya considering he kept looking at the time, waiting for their director to arrive home early from work or something, but Tsuzuru gently comforted him and told him not to worry.

The cards were finished by the time the cupcakes were done cooling down and everyone helped take part in decorating them! Except Masumi had somehow escaped without Tsuzuru noticing, and he had wandered off into his room to do something.

By the time all of them were done doing their respective tasks, the director was walking up the steps. Hearing her footfalls; everyone panicked save for Itaru and Masumi (who was still gone) and tried to clean up their mess as she whistled a joyous tune. Their feet were stumbling as they tried to get the cards in order and the cupcakes lit up with some candles as the light turned on.

Quickly, Itaru used another switch to turn the light off to distract the director, and before she could question it, the boys got in position a few feet away from where she would be standing.

"Surprise!" They all shouted gleefully when she reached the top of the stairs, Itaru flicking the light switch on again. Unexpectedly, she screamed in fright, and had the business man not been there to grab her arm to keep her from stumbling back, she would have taken a small tumble down the stairs.

Suddenly, Masumi, from his bedroom, darted out and rammed himself into Izumi when she was pulled away from the staircase, a large boy wrapped around his head.

"Happy birthday." He murmured affectionately, clinging to the director as everyone sighed in exasperation.

SUMMER TROUPE

"What are we going to do?" Tenma groaned as he slumped back against the sofa with his hands sliding down his face.

The Summer Troupe had just found out it was the director's birthday just a couple hours ago from Matsukawa, and they were running out of time on what to do for her.

Yuki had complained earlier that he wouldn't have enough time to make a new set of clothes for her nor go shopping, and Muku was also panicking because he felt bad for not knowing what to give as a present.

Misumi suggested a triangle present that was gently shut down by Tenma. The only adult of the group, Kazunari, who had actual money to spend on their director, did not have money at this crucial point in time.

The Summer Troupe was at a crossroads.

"We are going to have to improvise." Kazunari murmured behind his hands that were hiding his mouth. The obvious statement could only make Tenma roll his eyes, and while everyone was brooding with how ill-equipped they were, the director was finishing up her work around an hour or two transit away from the dorm.

"Okay," Kazunari loudly clapped his hands together as he spotted a stack of used newspapers sitting beneath the coffee table, "Sakyo will hate this, but Muku, I want you to shred the newspapers to pieces. I will take responsibility." He went to grab the junk and handed it to the middle schooler who was staring at the university student in shock, his mouth falling open.

"O-okay.." The pink haired boy whispered anxiously under his breath, quickly scurrying to his bedroom to get ahold of the scissors he shared with Yuki when he wanted to cut up some manga panels or when his roommate needed to snip some threads. His feet gently padded down the hallway until he was nowhere in sight, and redirecting his attention to the other members who were with him, Kazunari grinned.

"We still have those cookies our director loves so much, right?" His eyes were glowed with hope while the rest of the troupe shrugged.

"Alright!" Kazunari began to quickly move towards the kitchen where he made a straight beeline towards the cabinet that hid all of the director's snacks, the other three members that were still with him following suit. "We're going to decorate some of her cookies. We use the pre-made icing Omi uses for Juza's desserts to spell out 'Haps BDay!' and Misumi can draw triangles on the rest!"

At the mention of triangles, the ball of energy quickly bounced towards the fridge to get the icing tubes Kazunari was talking about before while Tenma and Yuki both sent each other a dubious glance, moving to sit down at the dinner table as their second oldest member found the cookies and brought them where nearly everyone was gathered.

Everyone began to work diligently, the whole dorm quiet with the occasional tune from Misumi who was having the time of his life.

Half an hour later Muku had returned from his room with an armful of shredded newspapers in the form of makeshift confetti. Kazunari was ecstatic at the beautiful work done by the younger boy and pet his hair lovingly, causing him to beam happily.

Everyone was so distracted by their work that they didn't even notice when the director had come home with Sakyo following right behind; the older man having picked her up from her location.

Tenma and Kazunari basically screeched in terror when they saw Sakyo, but Misumi seemed to pay no mind as he threw all of the newspaper confetti into the air when the director turned her head in the direction of the kitchen. Muku shouted in shock while Yuki sighed as Sakyo's eyes widened at all the shredded up paper in the area, and the mess that the troupe made.

"Happy birthday!" Misumi sang, Yuki grumbled, and Muku squeaked.

Sakyo wasn't very happy, but the director definitely was!

AUTUMN TROUPE

"Calzones are so fun to make!" Taichi shouted as he punched his fist into a generous amount of dough while Omi and Juza were already finishing their own batch.

After Sakyo had dropped off the director at work did he tell the Autumn Troupe that it was her birthday, and upon hearing such jubilant news, everyone suggested that they make a food that she would love to eat.

Omi offered making calzones, and Taichi, not knowing what it was, demanded that they make it for her birthday.

"If you keep doing that the dough is gonna get tough." Sakyo scolded the fake redhead with a roll of his eyes while he checked his phone. He wasn't doing much to help out, considering he bought all of the ingredients with a side of party items, but Taichi poked his tongue out at the adult out of pettiness anyways.

"Move outta the way, dude." Banri complained for no particular reason. Juza was only standing at the kitchen counter trying to help the shorty make his own calzone, so, swallowing down his temper, he merely glared and went back to showing Taichi what to do.

Annoyed at being ignored, Banri opened his mouth to say something else only to have the back of his head smacked by Sakyo who had conjured himself out of nowhere.

"Stop trying to pick fights, Jackass. It never ends with you." The adult said with a steely gaze, causing Banri to snarl and put his prepped calzone beside the other ones on the baking sheet.

"Haha." Taichi laughed mockingly behind Juza who was now working on the youngest member's calzone as the redhead mocked Banri by pulling the skin beneath his eye down while poking his tongue out. It didn't happen a lot when Banri would go quiet, but today seemed like an exception considering it was the director's birthday today and they were supposed to work together to get things done.

It was Taichi's turn to get a push of the knuckles to the temple by Sakyo who was also frowning at him. "And you. Start pulling your own weight. Don't make Juza do it for you."

"Now, now, everybody. Let's focus on the task at hand." Omi chuckled and spilled out one of the proofed batches of dough onto a separate counter covered in a light sheen of oil, hands skilfully flattening it into a thin circle. The kind chiding of the tallest member had everyone else grumbling to themselves, Taichi even nudging Juza away so that he would be able to work on his own masterpiece.

Sakyo did the bare minimum by putting the ready to bake calzones into the oven, then went to wash his hands to go and get the party items he bought ready.

Everyone got into a rhythm by the time Sakyo left the kitchen to blow up like, 5 balloons and pulled out a large birthday cake out of nowhere, setting it on the coffee table as the younger members were busy finishing up in the kitchen with the food they made specifically with Izumi in mind.

There was a rattle coming from the front door not too long after Taichi's calzone made it out of the oven, and the youngest member screeched in shock when he looked out the window to see their director unlocking the door to the dormitory. Removing himself from the window, he began to slap Omi, Juza, and Banri on the back in a panic, whisper shouting that the director was coming up soon and that they needed to hurry!

Sakyo was already turning off the light switch by the time Taichi reached him and the teenager wrapped his arms around the blond's waist with a terrified whimper. Her footsteps going up the stairs were daunting as Banri and Juza stayed put in the kitchen while Omi went around to light up the candles on the cake that Sakyo left on the table.

By the time the director reached the top step, Taichi and Sakyo were already singing the birthday tune in a soft murmur as Omi started to approach her with the cake in his hands, the two other high schoolers going to grab the small confetti poppers that the blond man reluctantly decided to buy.

Taichi looked over Sakyo's shoulder with sparkling eyes as the director stood in front of all of them, frozen in shock once Omi reached her with the flames of the candles reflecting in her gaze.

When they finished singing, she gently blew the candles, effectively causing the living room to go dark. After a few seconds, Sakyo switched on the lights again only for Banri and Juza to startled everyone when they opened the confetti poppers, making Taichi squeal and the director to flinch at the loud sound.

"Happy birthday!" Each member crooned in their own special way, and she couldn't help but smile bashfully when they all came to her to either give her a hug or to pat her head.

Happy birthday indeed!

WINTER TROUPE

"A small poem to tie onto each stem." Homare said, handing thin strips of paper to the other four troupe members as they sat at the dinner table with an assortment of flowers splayed in front of them.

Tasuku and Tsumugi both gave each other a look of hopelessness, but listened to Homare anyways and poked a small string through the hole punched poems they were given as Hisoka failed to keep his head off the table. Azuma was keeping himself busy by hole punching the other poems that Homare didn't touch yet as he played a sweet song list from his phone.

The Winter Troupe had overheard the director speaking on the phone with one of her friends, laughing shyly as she thanked them for remembering it was her birthday. The five men were surprised to say the least, as she had never mentioned to them when her birthday was at all.

They thought it was their duty to make sure she came home to an exciting display, so when they saw her leave for work, they all began to brainstorm. There wasn't much any of them could do as Hisoka didn't have any ideas and Azuma's suggestion costed a lot of money, so they all resorted to picking out a bundle of flowers with the guidance of Tsumugi and his expertise.

Homare suggested that he write a few poems for the director, and as much as no one else liked the idea, Tasuku noticed that she actually liked the poems Arisugawa wrote, so reluctantly, he told everyone to listen and to trust him. Just this once.

Each and every one of them worked their best to make sure each flower had a poem connected to it, and with what little energy Hisoka had, gathered each stem and created multiple bouquets for them to give to the director once she arrived home from work. The teamwork was amazing, and it almost made Tasuku wish that his troupe would join the Mankai Futsal Club.

It wasn't very difficult for all of them to finish on time, but curious, Azuma took a look at a few of the poems on the flowers that were sitting in front of Hisoka and couldn't choose between smiling and frowning.

"Some of these have the same poems." He noted softly, causing Tsumugi and Tasuku to briefly glance at each other before looking at an indifferent Homare who was still tying a poem to a stem. The gazes that were on Homare only forced him to give them an answer, and he sighed faintly as he set down the flower that was cradled between his lithe fingers.

"My inspiration can only go so far, gentlemen." Homare frowned, gesturing towards the other members with a suggestive eyebrow. "I wouldn't mind if you all helped me produce some more. Add a little variety."

And with a collective sigh, everyone else agreed and made the necessary preparations to get their own poems put on some flowers.

Most of them had their tongues sticking out as they wrote whatever they wanted to say to the director with the most flowery of words they could muster at the time. They were taking the situation so seriously that they did not even notice how long they had been working on their present for the director; and she was to be home in a few minutes.

They were actually so focused that they didn't hear her creeping up on them, but she had no idea what they were doing at the dinner table with an ungodly amount of paper and flowers everywhere.

Tasuku jolted in surprise when he felt a small hand rest on his shoulder, and when he turned his head to look at who it was, he slightly flushed in embarrassment when he saw a soft gaze looking down at him with a curious smile.

Tsumugi was equally as flustered while Homare continued to work on his paper. Azuma merely smiled when a new presence arrived and twirled a flower in his fingers as the director stood in the space between Tasuku and Hisoka to brush her fingers through the hair of the sleeping man, head tilted.

"What are you guys doing?" She asked, still oblivious.

"Oh, you know." Azuma hummed, smiling as he reached across the dinner table to hold out the flower in his hand. "Just Troupe bonding."

Taking the stem in her fingers, the director immediately went to unravel the poem that wrapped around it to read two simple words, Hisoka grumbled at the loss of her warmth as he moved to curl himself around her waist, the other members anxiously looking at her.

With a surprised noise, the girl looked at all the men surrounding her with a bright smile, her nose scrunching up in a cute manner as cupped her cheek in her palm with the cool stem pressing into her skin, her other hand going to pet Hisoka's head again.

"You boys are so sweet." She cooed playfully, bumping her elbow into Tasuku's shoulder as the man flushed even more when she took the flower from his own hands to see what he had written, her smile only growing wider as she whispered the words to herself.

Seeing your face everyday gives me the strength to become better. And someday I hope that I can be by your side when you start to bloom yourself.

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