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cheri-translates · 3 years

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[CN] Winning the Championship Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 夺冠之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ Released on 28 September 2021 ]

The vibrations of my phone rouse me from the tediously long document. After looking at the caller, I answer it hurriedly.

MC: Gavin? Has your mission ended?

Gavin (on the phone): Soon. I’ll be back before the weekend. I should be able to make it in time for that café event you mentioned.

I suddenly recall how I had mentioned this event to Gavin before he left for the mission last month, but...

MC: Sob sob. I can’t go this weekend. I’m producing a new show, so I’ve been busier lately.

Gavin (on the phone): Is it a difficult show?

MC: A little bit... Come to think of it, Gavin, what type of sports shows appeal to you?

Gavin (on the phone): ...appeal to me? Competitive sports with commentators.

Just as I’m hesitating on whether to tell him about the problems I’m facing, someone on the other end of the line seems to be calling for him.

MC: Go and do your thing. I’m not facing any issues.

Gavin (on the phone): Okay. Contact me anytime if needed.

Right after hanging up, Minor knocks on the door and comes in.

Minor: Boss, I’ve made the arrangements for the collaborative filming of “Life’s Limits” with the City Sports and Culture Bureau. As per your request, I’ve selected a group of amateur racing hobbyists. The name list and materials have been sent to your e-mail.

MC: You’ve worked hard.

Minor: Boss, why don’t you take a break? Your dark circles have appeared.

MC: The company competing with us for this project is Light Media, and it’s much more experienced in producing sports shows as compared to us. We can’t let our guard down.

After more than half a month of research, I locked in my decision regarding the filming site - Hurricane Club.

This club is very well-known amongst motorcycle enthusiasts, and often organises competitions for amateurs.

This weekend, the club will be conducting a three-day training, and participants will be guided by professional coaches. There will even be a friendly race at the end.

The competition has a very novel format - it’s a three-person relay.

I intend to search for three photogenic motorists to form a small team. By following their daily experiences throughout the entire process, including their training sessions and the race, I’d produce a story about the team.

Minor: Boss, according to your request, isn’t the best choice Bro Gavin?

MC: That’s true...

During the initial planning stage, the first person I thought of was actually Gavin.

However, he doesn’t like appearing on shows, and was only willing to appear in previous shows because of me.

Moreover, he’s been away for a mission which lasted close to a month, and should get a proper rest over the weekend.

MC: In short, he... doesn’t quite fit the standard. You can leave work for now.

After sending Minor away, I re-focus on the thick stack of materials in front of me.

Before the peak hour on Friday, I head towards Hurricane Club in a rental car. While doing pre-filming checks, I answer the phone.

Minor: Boss, the three people we agreed on have set out. I’ve also found a suitable substitute. After careful selection, he’s definitely a top quality choice. I can guarantee that nothing will go wrong! You’ll get to see him once you reach the club! Boss, thanks for your hard work!

Before I have a chance to probe further, the dial tone sounds in the next second.

MC: This fellow is once again acting first before reporting afterwards... there shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Upon reaching the club, I meet up with the three team members we had contacted earlier.

Based on background research conducted by the company, they are generally outstanding, and are very enthusiastic when it comes to racing.

One of them is a young participant called Kelly, who obtained an amateur championship title in the past.

I quickly introduce the details of the shoot to them.

MC: Bro Liu, Xiao Yu, Kelly, thank you all for participating in this shoot. Afterwards, the club will be allocating you to your coaches for guidance. Even though this team was put together at short notice, I hope everyone can have faith in each other, and motivate each other. We also prepared a substitute team member...

??: Sorry I’m late.

A familiar voice drifts from behind me, and I immediately turn around.

Sunlight falls on every step Gavin takes towards me. The pair of eyes looking at me are bright and clear.

Gavin: I’m the substitute team member, Gavin. I’ve kept you waiting, Producer.

After the club assigns the coaches and enters the test run phase, I finally digest the “unexpected surprise” of Gavin’s sudden appearance.

I initially think of finding a chance to talk to him privately, but the coaches who arrive one after another leave me with no choice but to retract the gaze which keeps straying towards that figure.

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on my current task. By the time all the filming angles are checked, most of the morning has already gone by.

Scanning my surroundings, I don’t see Gavin anywhere.

MC: ...where is he?

Walking along the racetrack and towards the vending machine, I decide to get a bottle of coffee to fill myself up before looking for Gavin.

Perhaps because I didn’t have breakfast, I suddenly feel dizzy after taking a few sips.

By the time I regain my senses, I’m carried over to a long bench by a familiar force. Meeting Gavin’s evidently frantic gaze, I quickly tug the corners of my lips upwards into a smile.

MC: Gavin, I was just about to look for you. Turns out you were here.

He doesn’t speak. Lifting his hand, he wipes away the thin sheen of sweat on my forehead lightly. Then, a breeze envelops me gently, warm and comforting.

He takes the coffee in my hand smoothly, then retrieves soya milk and a sandwich from the bag in his hand.

Gavin: Eat your breakfast.

MC: ...okay, I’ll listen to Sir Gavin.

I munch on the sandwich obediently, occasionally blinking at Gavin to convey a message which says, “I feel much better, so there’s no need to worry”.

Gavin’s slightly furrowed brows finally arch subconsciously.

Gavin: I heard from Minor that you’ve been working overnight to prepare for this show.

MC: Haha, don’t listen to his nonsense. It isn’t that exaggerated...

Gavin: I also heard that I didn’t fit the standard. What standard did you set?

MC: ...

I clench my fists in secret, condemning Minor from the bottom of my heart for his “heinous act” of betraying me.

MC: I can explain! You don’t like appearing on camera, and your identity in STF is a pretty sensitive topic...

Gavin: Mm, you’re right.

Gavin deliberately elongates his words, as though he doesn’t plan to let the matter go just like this.

Gavin: So what’s your standard?

MC: ...we hope for the motorists to have a certain level of professional competence, to be sufficiently photogenic, and most importantly, to have an enthusiastic heart. But I really didn’t mean to say that you didn’t fit this standard!

Gavin is finally unable to suppress the upward turn of his lips.

Gavin: Once you’re done today, sleep early tonight.

The training proceeds methodically, and filming goes very smoothly.

The roar of motors drift from the club’s racetrack, and motorcycles of every hue speed freely along the racetrack.

In the camera lens, two blue and white motorcycles seem to be speeding at the same pace, as though they’d break through the finish line at the same time.

Kelly: Have you ever participated in professional racing?

Gavin: Nope.

Kelly: The way you cornered the motorcycle a few times - you can’t do that with ease without a few years of experience. How did you do it?

Gavin: I just drive often.

Kelly: Let’s find a chance to ride together some time.

Kelly pats him on the shoulder before continuing the training. Gavin walks over to me, twisting open a bottle of water before taking a sip.

Gavin: Is filming going well?

MC: There’s too much footage from the training sessions. I might consider adding a special segment for interviews.

While speaking, I’m struck with an idea.

MC: Mr Gavin, why don’t you have a pre-interview with me to test out the effects?

I lift a bottle of water towards Gavin.

MC: What made you like motorcycles?

Gavin: I don’t have a precise answer. By the time I realised it, I already liked them.

MC: In that case, are there any motorcycle-related experiences which left a deep impression on you?

Gavin is silent for a moment. He seems to think of something, then chuckles softly.

Gavin: The time it overturned.

MC: Overturned? When did that happen? You can tell me in secret - this will definitely not be disclosed to the public.

Gavin looks at me, and he speaks in a volume only the both of us can hear -

Gavin: [whispers] The time when I rode on a snowmobile with the girl I like.

The snow field in my memories is cold, but the breath at my ear causes the temperature of my ear to rise.

[Note] This is a reference to Snow Mountain Date

MC: [blushing] Cough, that was...

All of a sudden, a clamour from the racetrack interrupts my words. The both of us stand up, only to discover that a motorcycle has overturned on the track.

Many people are standing at the side, and some call out for the medical staff.

Gavin: That seems to be Old Liu. Let’s go over to have a look.

Doctor: There are soft tissue injuries to your wrist and leg. Recuperate properly over this duration, and don’t engage in any intense activities.

Bro Liu: What about the competition tomorrow...

MC: Bro Liu, just recuperate. The doctor said that once your injuries are healed, you can still ride motorcycles in the future.

Bro Liu glances at Gavin.

Bro Liu: I guess I must admit that I’m getting old. It’s time to hand the baton to the young.

After contacting Minor and telling him about what happened, Gavin and I leave the hospital.

MC: Bro Liu worked so hard over the past two days. He must have really wanted to participate in tomorrow’s competition...

Gavin: In that case, we’ll work hard together with his effort. This is when the substitute steps in.

It’s the night before the competition, and I’m looking through the contents of the edited shoot over the past two days in my room.

After cutting the cornering training, I modify it into a slow-motion feature, then insert a few casual interactions between the team members as embellishments.

But no matter how I edit it, the clip is unable to convey the feelings I hoped it would.

I grab my hair in frustration, unwilling to accept my defeat. I locate the original video, watching it from the start.

The sound of the doorbell interrupts my slightly muddy train of thoughts. Opening the door, I see Gavin standing outside.

Gavin: I saw that the lights were still on in your room, so I came over to take a look. Why aren’t you sleeping?

MC: Gavin...

Hearing the gloominess in my tone, he takes my hand and pulls me over to sit down on the sofa.

Gavin: Filming didn’t go well?

Placing the notebook laptop between us, I play the recording.

MC: For this shoot, I wanted to edit it into a small unscripted story to showcase the competitiveness and fun of being a racer. As of now, the story aspect is going smoothly, and the interactions between people are interesting too. But I think it’s missing something which can grab one’s attention immediately...

Gavin looks at the screen and ponders for a moment. Then, he suddenly asks me a question.

Gavin: Want to go for a stroll? It’s too stuffy in the room. Getting some fresh air might give you new inspiration.

Likely to conserve energy for the competition tomorrow, everyone has returned to rest very early, and the racetrack is completely empty.

Gavin leaps onto the bleachers, then reaches out to me.

Gavin: Let’s go for a spin.

He takes my hand, guiding me onto the vehicle. Then, he puts on a helmet for me, teaching me how to grab the throttle and brakes.

MC: Gavin, are you sure this is okay?

Gavin: You can’t go onto the road, but we’re still within the venue. After filming for days, don’t you want to experience it yourself?

MC: I want to!

Gavin sits behind me, two arms securing me steadily in his arms.

Along with the familiar sound of the engine, the motorcycle moves. The speed is incredibly steady, and is just right for enjoying the pleasant evening breeze.

MC: Gavin, can we go a little faster?

Gavin: We can. Sit tight.

A loud roar drifts to my ears, and the motorcycle flies forward like an arrow leaving a bow.

Very soon, the most difficult part of the racetrack appears, comprising of consecutive bends. During the training sessions, many motorists faced many trials at this area.

Gavin grips my hand, loosening the throttle, causing the the motorcycle to slow down.

MC: There’s no need to step on the brakes?

Gavin: No need. Engine braking is enough to reduce the speed.

While speaking, the motorcycle tilts at an unbelievable angle at a turn. Gavin controls the direction with composure, air currents at the side keeping the motorcycle steady.

The motorcycle dangerously yet steadily completes the curved track, returning onto a straight track and picking up speed once again.

Gavin: MC, can you see where the cameras are? That’s the goal. On the racetrack, that’s the only thing in a racer’s eyes.

The sound of wind at my ears seems to quieten down. The moment we charge past the finishing line, I suddenly have a feeling that a full stop has been drawn on the racetrack.

Even after the motorcycle makes its gradual halt, I’m unable to return to my senses.

Seeming to understand my silence, Gavin doesn’t speak. He simply pushes the motorcycle that I'm on patiently, walking slowly.

MC: Gavin, I know what this story is missing. Stirring the emotions of viewers requires the most important thing which can make them seethe with excitement -

Gavin: Winning the championship.

MC: That’s right. All the effort from before is meant for the final sprint towards the goal. Winning the championship is the core of a competitive spirit, and is also what the show’s theme of “limit” is seeking after. But... Gavin, do you think we have a chance at winning the championship tomorrow?

Gavin: Yes. But while we’re improving, others are improving as well. Everyone on the racetrack will be aiming towards victory. The people you selected are very outstanding. Believe in them, and believe in yourself.

MC: Mm, everyone has already worked very hard. When it comes to winning, it’s good enough if they try their best.

Gavin parks the motorcycle properly, then carries me down from it.

Gavin: Go back and have a good sleep. You don’t have to worry too much about the competition tomorrow.

It’s finally time for the competition. Seeing the filled audience seats, I feel incredibly nervous.

Kelly: I didn't expect to see so many people.

MC: It’s a Sunday, and the club decided to open the venue to the public as publicity.

I take a deep breath to calm my emotions.

MC: Let’s enjoy the fun of racing to our heart’s content! Shall we do a pre-competition ceremony?

While speaking, I stretch out my hand. Gavin cooperates, placing his palm over the back of my hand. He gives it a gentle pinch, and it feels as though an endless stream of strength is being transmitted.

It’s a sense of security belonging only to Gavin.

MC: Safety first, the competition second. Everyone, all the best!

All the motorists have taken their places at the starting line. Based on prior suggestions by the club, I’ve arranged Kelly to take on the first battle, and Gavin will be the finale.

With the green light signalling the start of the competition, twenty motorcycles which have been waiting for action seem to sprint forward at the same time.

The sound of motor engines causes everyone’s adrenaline to spike, and the crowd becomes immersed in the competition.

I’m positioned closest to the audience seats. This is the first time I’m viewing a competition from such a close distance. Even though it’s an amateur competition, it’s sufficiently astounding.

Xiao Yu makes a few minor mistakes at the bends, causing the team to lag behind temporarily.

Carefully observing the changes on the racetrack, I don’t feel overly anxious.

Because it’d be Gavin’s turn next. With him around, I always feel exceptionally at ease.

I look at Gavin as he waits at the handover area with a helmet over his head. He seems to sense my gaze, and turns around to see my thumbs up.

In the next second, his motorcycle charges into the racetrack.

The blue and white motorcycle courses past the bends nimbly in almost “L” shape movements.

As compared to my experience last night, I can see Gavin’s cornering techniques even more clearly from the audience seats.

Although the camera is unable to capture his expression, it isn’t difficult to imagine his focused and bright eyes from underneath the helmet.

When the competition enters its final round, Gavin has already reached the second place, and there’s hardly any difference between him and the first competitor.

The audience’s emotions are stirred by this intense competition, and the sound of cheers surge forward like a tide.

I find myself being influenced as well, staring fixedly at that sprinting figure.

After the upcoming bend, the goal will not be far.

Unexpectedly, a motorcycle behind suddenly accelerates towards the bend, using its full strength to make a last effort.

However, the motorcycle tilts too much. It’s clear that the centre of gravity was not controlled properly, sending the motorist collapsing onto the track.

At this point, Gavin’s motorcycle is already over half of the bend. He controls the dip of the motorcycle, barely avoiding the fallen vehicle.

Because of this incident, some distance is pulled between himself and the motorist in first place.

On the straight road, Gavin’s motorcycle suddenly accelerates, keeping pace with the motorist in front.

In this moment, time seems to slow down. I hold my breath, feeling as though my spirit has become one with that sprinting figure.

The rustling of leaves, the flapping wings of birds, the yelling of the audience, the checkered flag waving mid-air... all of them gather into one voice-

Announcer: The first place goes to No. 07!

On the big screen, Gavin’s name is listed impressively at the top.

At the final moment, he attained first place with a 0.06 second difference, winning the championship.

Gavin did it!

The motorcycle comes to a gradual halt. Gavin removes his helmet, droplets of sweat reflecting bright rays of light beneath the sunlight.

The smile on his face is sparkling and dazzling, bringing with it the confidence belonging to a victor.

Such a result is both unexpected yet within my expectations.

Gavin turns around, looking squarely in my direction.

He shakes his head casually, which has gotten messy from his helmet, and says two words.

Gavin: We won.

The employees push the motorcycles back to the venue. Gavin heads over to the referee’s seat, lowers his head and says a few things before walking to me.

The gold medal in his hand dangles slightly, reflecting a dazzling light.

Cheers from the surroundings grow brighter as he draws closer. Separated by the bleachers, he stretches out his hand towards me -

He leans over the bleachers slightly. As he draws closer, I can detect the scent belonging only to Gavin.

Gavin hangs the medal around my neck, announcing our victory.

Gavin: The champion title - we’ve got it.

My mouth opens, but I have no idea what to say. My body reacts faster than my brain. I stretch out both arms, hugging him with all the strength in my body.

Scorching warmth and the dampness of sweat from the competition linger on him.

Gavin returns the embrace. It’s as though this hug is enough for us to understand each other’s sentiments.

Gavin: I think I heard you cheering me on.

MC: I did it so softly, but you could hear it?

Gavin: Mm, the wind told me. Everything you say - I can hear them.

MC: There’s still one thing the wind hasn’t had the time to tell you. I’ll say it myself right now.

Turning my face to the side, I bring it close to his ear.

MC: Gavin, you’ll always be the only champion in my heart.

🏍 Call and Moments: here

🏍 Art based on this date: here

🏍 Support the café by dropping by the tip jar!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin #CUTE CUTE

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halcyonstorm · 3 years

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Buttered Popcorn

“In the trip to Marley, I imagine Onyankopon would tell Levi and Hange to go to the movies, because he thought Hange would love it. (I imagine they would go without Onyankopon) So, in the cinema, at the beginning when the lights of the projector turn on she would be super excited and Levi would hush her. And well, the movie would begin… (I don’t care the genre) and I imagine they would get a little close, maybe arms touching? But then the typical romance scene would appear, with the actors kissing, and so they would get conscious of the situation, Levi would get awkward and separate from Hange, and I don’t know anymore. I think it can be funny, fluffy and whatever you feel like :)”

Hi! Thank you for leaving me a submission! I altered what you said a little bit, but I hope it’s still enjoyable. Some of the movies I added are recent, so just please disregard that the movies definitely came out after their lifetime. I really enjoyed writing this, so thank you!

Marley was hustling and bustling. Every weekend, markets would open up and merchants would gather in the center of the city to sell their items. All sorts of items, including fruit, jewelry, books, liquor, ice cream, and even animals. Today was the day that the 104 was able to forget about Titans for a little while. Onyankapon decided to take advantage of that.

“Hey, Levi,” Onyankapon whispered, touching his upper back, gesturing for Levi to walk with him. He pulled him away from Hange for a moment. Hange was purchasing something at a stall. “The kids are going to that restaurant down the block for an early supper.” He gestured towards the road behind them. “You and Hange should go on a date.”

Levi scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Why would you ask me, specifically, to go on a date with her?”

“Cut the crap, Levi. We all know you like her,” Onyankapon said. Levi shot him a death glare, which made Onyankapon’s shoulders tense. They walked a little further while Levi contemplated his decision.

“…Fine. I’ll keep her company to make sure she doesn’t wander off,” Levi agreed. Onyankapon smiled wide.

“Great! There is a cinema down the block on the right side. You should take her there. I’m sure she’d love it.” Did he already plan our date? Levi asked himself.

“What’s a cinema?”

“It’s where you sit in a big theater and a movie is shown on the screen. You can buy all sorts of food too. There are a ton of showings. Horror, romance, comedy, action; You should go with her and decide. They’re showing movies at all times of the day.”

Levi nodded in understanding. Where was the Commander, anyways?

“The movies…” he muttered to himself. He, himself, had never seen a movie before. He figured Hange would enjoy it. Plus, he could spend some alone time with her.

Levi turned his head to look behind him. He narrowed his brows. “Where’d Hange go?” He asked aloud, noticing Onyankapon disappeared as well. He began pushing through the flow of the crowd to find her. He was starting to panic. His heart rate started to pick up, adrenaline coursing through his veins. This new city was enormous compared to their little island of Paradis. She’d be gone, forever stuck in enemy territory. It was then he suddenly noticed Onyankapon from his tall stature, who must’ve stopped walking with Levi at some moment in which he couldn’t quite remember. He was standing casually, chatting with someone. He jogged over to him and found Hange. Levi rolled his eyes.

“Hange, stay with the group,” Levi enunciated. Hange just smiled, pushing out a wafer cone with a creamy substance on top.

“Try this!” She said. Levi was confused. After a moment of him just staring at it, she took his hand, placed his fingers around the cone, and let go. “Try it. It’s good.”

Hange had a cone for herself. “It’s called ice cream. This is vanilla. It’s so sweet and creamy and cold and soooooooo good!!”

Levi bent his head down towards the cone, awkwardly opening his mouth to lick it. The woman-you’re-in-love-with’s hand touching yours can be very convincing after all. An eyebrow raised in interest.

“Mm… Not bad.” Levi noticed Onyankapon was staring at him. He kept weirdly shaking his head towards Hange and clearing his throat. Is he okay? he asked himself. Levi shook his head quickly at him, as if to ask what the fuck?

Onyankapon rolled his eyes dramatically, patting Hange’s back. “I’ve gotta use the bathroom. Levi, keep an eye on Hange.” He winked at Levi. Levi is so fucking dense, Onyankapon thought to himself, passing by them to find a bathroom. Oh. That’s why he was acting funny, Levi thought to himself.

Hange started walking next to Levi, licking her ice cream. She really likes it, Levi thought to himself. It made him happy. He figured now was the only appropriate time to ask her out… He had to make it as casual as possible. He felt his heart start to race and his hands begin to shake. It wasn’t a big deal. We are just hanging out like we usually do. Then he thought maybe he didn’t have to even say anything. He can lead them to the cinema and somehow draw her attention that she’ll ask him. Yep. That’s what he was going to do.

“Let’s go this way,” Levi said, grabbing her wrist gently. He didn’t want to lose her in the crowd, knowing how her attention span can be short at times. Hange was really grateful to be spending the day with him and that he wanted to spend it with her.

The pair got through the crowd in the center of the city. They passed some stalls on the outskirts when he finally noticed the cinema. There was a huge red and white sign at the top. There were black letter cards that read multiple movie titles, including “Psycho”, “The Wizard of Oz”, “The Godfather”, and “The Best Years of Our Lives.” There was a ticket booth in the center with glass doors on either side. Levi had finished his ice cream cone and had a wrapper remaining. Hange finished too. Great, he thought. There’s a trash can right by the cinema. I’ll go over there, draw her attention this way, and she’ll invite me to go in.

“I’ll take your wrapper,” he said, putting his hand out.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Hange replied.

“Give it to me,” he said sternly. Hange chuckled nervously.

“Okay. There’s a trash can right there on the left,” she said, pointing in the opposite way of the cinema.

“I see one over there. I’ll throw it out there.” He had already walked towards the cinema before she could respond. There weren’t many people on this street, so Hange had a clear view of Levi.

“Oh! Levi!” Hange started walking quickly over to him. “Onyankapon told me about the cinema… Let’s go watch a movie!” Levi smirked to himself.

“I guess,” he replied, being coy. My plan worked.

Hange seemed to light up once they walked in the building. It was very pretty inside. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, huge movie posters propped on easels, and there were red and yellow flashing lights around each theater room which also lined the floor. The smell of butter filled their nostrils.

“What’s that smell?” Hange asked aloud, walking towards the counter.

“Popcorn!” the employee responded. “Would you like some?” Hange looked behind the lady, noticing a huge red glass box with yellow and white kernels inside.

“Yes! Large.” The employee smiled, starting to fill a large bucket with popcorn. Hange suddenly had a burst of energy. “What movie do you want to see?” She asked Levi.

“Hmm… Half of them sound boring.”

“I’ll pick,” Hange nodded.

The employee handed them their bucket. Hange’s eyes widened and glistened. It smelt so good. There were a few wet pieces at the top, fresh with drizzled butter and the salt glistened in the light. The bucket was very warm.

“Which movie would you two like to see?” she asked.

“Hmm… Psycho,” Hange replied. “I’m not sure what it’s about, but I like the sound of it!”

The employee grinned, handing her the tickets. “I hope you enjoy!”

“Thanks!!”

Hange happily walked down the hallway with the bucket of popcorn. She offered some to Levi. He was stubborn, but Hange insisted he tried it. As it turns out, he loved it. It was salty and buttery, but a light snack. It was perfect for movies.

They found the movie theater their movie was playing. It was completely dark in the room, except for the bright screen. Hange gasped.

“Whoa!” She exclaimed. “This screen is HUGE!”

“If you eat that entire thing, something else will be huge later too.”

Hange chuckled. “Oh, Levi…” She seemed like she was gonna continue, but she didn’t. “Let’s sit up there!” Before Levi looked her way, she was already climbing the stairs up to the higher chairs. Levi passively agreed, following her. He thought she looked very handsome today. He enjoyed seeing her in a suit.

She picked a seat in the middle, weeding her way through. She finally sat down with a plop.

“I’m so excited!” Hange whispered loudly, smiling wide. Levi’s heart swelled at the sight.

“Just keep it down,” Levi said endearingly, taking the popcorn from her. Hange was staring at the screen, eyes wide in excitement. “I have no idea what it’s about!!”

Levi felt the urge to kiss her right there. After all, no one would see. It was dark and people were mumbling amongst themselves. No one would be able to see them here. He, however, held back his urge.

The small lights on the walls around them dimmed, hinting that the movie was starting. Creepy music started playing. Hange’s grin was still ear-to-ear, eyes wide. She was loudly munching on popcorn. Levi shushed her, grabbing some popcorn with his hand. It was unlike him, but he shoved it in his mouth. He wasn’t gonna tell her that he loved it (unless she asked, of course).

The movie began. It was beginning with a lady stealing money and driving away in a car, not knowing someone has been stalking her. She had bought a new car and changed her look, trying to ward the guy off. It started to get really creepy after this. She was in a motel room, beginning to strip. Hange felt extremely awkward, as did Levi. This feeling, however, quickly dissipated. She got in the shower, and the creepy man broke into her room, starting to slowly make his way to her bathroom. When they showed his dagger, Hange gasped.

“Oh my god! She’s gonna die!” Hange whispered loudly to Levi.

“No, she’s not,” Levi said, but definitely lying. He was getting nervous too.

Suddenly, it happened. The man whipped open the shower curtains, stabbing the lady in the shower to death. She screamed bloody murder, pun intended.

Levi and Hange screamed. Hange was sure that he never screamed in his life until now. A few others screamed in the audience as well. Levi unintentionally grabbed Hange’s hand, still a bit greasy from the popcorn.

“I told you she was gonna die!” Hange nagged, her voice normal now.

“Well, I didn’t expect them to show it on screen!” Levi replied whispering.

“I am NEVER showering again!” Hange whispered loudly.

“It’s not like you shower to begin with!” Levi replied back to her. Someone loudly shushed them in the audience. Hange giggled softly.

“Maybe you’ll just have to knock me out again.”

Their hands remained laced throughout the entire movie, Hange accidentally squeezing way too hard when a scary scene was shown. Levi blushed each time this happened. He really liked holding her hand. It turns out that this movie was on a whole other level of fucked up, but it was right up Hange’s alley. She loved crazy shit like this. Levi was starting to get weirded out but every time he looked at Hange, that feeling went away. Finally, the movie ended, and the credits rolled out. People in the audience were clapping. Hange made a questionable face at Levi before softly clapping her hands together. Levi placed his hand on her chin and turned her face towards him.

“You have something on your cheek,” Levi said. He grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, inspecting her face.

“Oh, it’s probably popcorn,” Hange chuckled, her cheeks flushing red. Thank God the room was still a bit dark.

He started to smush the kerchief on her cheek, trying to rub off the butter. He was looking at her so intricately, so carefully. The lights started to brighten the room again. They were almost alone in the theater.

“There you go,” Levi said, folding his dirty kerchief and placing it in his pocket. Hange was feeling adventurous today. He got her all hot and bothered by staring so beautifully at her face.

“You’ve got something on your face, too,” Hange said nervously. Levi knitted his brows.

“Where?”

“Here,” She said, slowly leaning in. She placed a soft but sweet kiss on his beautiful lips. Levi was shocked, pleasantly shocked. He kissed her back for that brief moment. His cheeks flushed red as he tried to hide his excitement from her kiss.

When she pulled away, their eyes locked.

“I think I missed a spot,” Levi said softly, placing his hand on her cheek, kissing her softly again.

“So…” Levi began as they walked out of the theater. “He was the psycho the whole time? His mother wasn’t even alive…”

“Uh huh!”

“That’s a Psycho for you,” Levi added. Hange started to laugh. Levi smiled; Hange was lucky enough to catch his smile. He didn’t show his teeth, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a happy, content smile. He hadn’t felt happy (or felt this happy) in a long, long time.

“Levi,” Hange said, looking over at him. “Let’s see more movies together sometime.”

Levi smiled visibly at her. “Let’s do that.”

#levihan #levihan oneshot #levihan fic #levihan fanfic #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hange x levi #levi x hange #levi x hanji #rivahan #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #submission

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amajikilvr · 3 years

Text

warm aromas - tamaki amajiki

word count 1.9k

reader type filipino , gender-neutral

premise tamaki gets a taste of your cultural during a first date

For the record, you weren’t terribly nervous about this date. At least not any type of uneasiness worth noting. It was a fluttery kind of anticipation that shot your butterfly-filled stomach into your chest, all the way up your throat, and then finally falling back down before repeating and repeating. More than anything else, you were excited.

It was just Amajiki, after all. Well, he wasn’t just anything. Amajiki was a beautiful kaleidoscope of oddities that you had yet to have the pleasure of discovering. For now, you simply knew him as the tender boy in your class with immense talent and heart.

You considered him a great friend and had been willing to take a leap of faith in an effort to pursue something more. And it seemed like your bravery was paying off so far.

Walking into the warmly lit restaurant, you took a deep breath of the aromatic atmosphere and felt your heart jump and shake as Amajiki’s sweet face came to mind. You couldn’t see yourself ever forgetting the way his complexion had brightly glowed like the surface of a fresh cherry when you asked him out after class.

The familiar older woman working at the front waved and greeted you by name and you did the same with a notable extra twirl in your step. She raised an eyebrow at you, aged forehead wrinkling in amusement.

Needless to say, not even a sudden run-in with your worst enemy would’ve been able to take your good mood down a single notch.

And there he was, already sitting at a back booth that was tucked away and hidden from the majority of fellow patrons, which didn’t surprise you in the slightest.

You grinned and held back a squeal as you plopped down in the seat across from him. “Hi! Hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

Amajiki immediately shook his head, indigo tufts of hair bouncing comically. You wanted to just reach out and ruffle them.

“Y/L/N! You didn’t! I was just early, sorry. I was so worried about making you wait for me. Sorry.”

“Aw, that was sweet of you, Tamaki.” You watched his cheeks flush at the use of his given name. Hesitantly, you let your hand hover over his. “Can I?”

“O-oh, yeah.” His face went pale before gradually going an even darker shade of red crimson.

You leaned forward and gently grabbed his hand, a little shocked to feel it trembling. “I’m really happy to be here, you know. Especially since it’s with you.”

Amajiki gulped before taking a long steady breath. His lips curved into a small smile as he made tentative eye contact with you for the first time.

“Me too… Y/N.”

“So, have you ever tried Filipino food before?” You asked after a moment of comfortable silence between you two, still relishing the feeling of his hand in yours. “Hado-san told me you were an adventurous eater…”

“I guess I am. My quirk kinda relies on a diet with plenty of variety. I’ve grown to really enjoy trying different kinds of food, practicality aside.” He paused, clearing his throat, and glancing away. “No Filipino food yet, though.”

“Well,” You gave his hand an experimental squeeze. Amajiki’s breathing went shaky in response, but he squeezed back. “I think you’re really going to like it.”

You’d discovered this restaurant after searching the Internet for somewhere in this city that served authentic Filipino cuisine. Finally, you found this nice family-owned place with delicious food, albeit you still preferred your mother’s cooking, but that was a given.

“Then I’m excited.” Amajiki gave you another wobbly smile. “Not that I wasn’t excited before. I was up all night thinking a… Oh, that’s embarrassing…”

You laughed softly, not at him, but hoping to reassure him. “No, that’s actually cute.”

Tamaki’s eyes went wide and instead of the blush returning, he went as white as a bedsheet. “Oh god… I’m sorry, I’m just so embarrassed. Y/N… Sorry…”

He covered his face with his free hand which was shaking significantly more by now. You were slightly concerned he might get up and run for the nearest corner.

“Tamaki, it’s okay.” You wanted to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, but you settled for squeezing his hand some more in hopes of not further overwhelming him. “It’s all good, don’t worry. I really like you.”

He opened his mouth as if to respond, but was interrupted by the arrival of the waiter who you had already grown quite friendly with over the years. You made a bit of small talk before ordering several classic dishes for Amajiki and you to sample together.

“Y/N,” Amajiki spoke up once you two were alone again. Thankfully, he had time to recover while you ordered and color had returned to his face as a result. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What is it about me that you like?” The last part was practically whispered and you had to guess whether you heard him correctly. “I just didn’t expect any of this is all…”

You tilted your head, smiling at Amajiki as you looked over his face carefully. He was beautiful on the outside too. His jawline was sharp and prominent, skin clear and soft-looking, and his eyes were sparkling and expressive. You could never get over the color, a startlingly deep shade that was only missing a background of stars and planets.

“Well, firstly, I think you’re very attractive.” You watched Amajiki choke on the sip of water he’d taken. He coughed a few times before silently blinking at you and you took it as a sign to continue. “You’re just so vibrant. When you’re using your quirk, you light up the whole room. You do without it too. And watching you work so hard and improve this year has been amazing. You inspire me without even trying and I couldn’t be more thankful for it.”

Amajiki made a small gasping noise, borderline a squeak, before squeezing his pretty eyes shut. He took a couple of deep breaths before sighing heavily. “T-that’s… Wow… Y/N, thank you. Thank you so much.”

He kept his eyes closed as he finished, blushing immensely again. “I think you’re beautiful… And smart. And kind. And… Oh my god, sorry, I might need a minute to just-”

“Tamaki.” You nervously brought your hand to his face and cupped his cheek. It was incredibly warm. “Is this okay?”

The response was shockingly quick. “Y-yes.”

You took another huge risk and just hoped it would pay off in the end. “Can I kiss you?”

A pregnant pause this time. Your heart was working overtime and you swore you could hear it pounding from inside your chest. Amajiki was quivering ever so slightly under your touch. You shouldn’t have asked, it was probably too much happening too fast.

“It’s okay if you don’t-”

Amajiki cut you off almost frantically. “No! I mean, yes, you can. Please…”

You gathered yourself and leaned even further across the table. First, you planted a chaste and sweet kiss on his other cheek. Going for his lips took more courage, but you did it. This kiss was longer than the other, but not by much. You didn’t care. As it turns out, Amajiki’s lips were as soft as they looked.

“Was that fine?” You asked, concerned when he still wasn’t opening his eyes. You felt a bit jittery yourself from that kiss.

They flew open at your voice. “It was great, I just need to go…”

He made a weak outward gesture and you gave him a comforting smile. You understood without him having to say it. He just needed a moment to himself after all of that.

“The washroom’s over there.”

Amajiki stood up, his hand coming loose from yours and your other hand falling from his hot face. “Thank you. I really did enjoy that, I just need a minute. Sorry, this is so rude of me…”

You shook your head sharply. “I don’t think that. Go ahead, take your time. I get it. I really do.”

“All that matters is that you feel comfortable.”

“Okay. Thank you.” He seemed relieved as he stared at you, actually gazing into your eyes, before rushing off towards the door you had pointed out to him.

Now alone, you smiled to yourself and placed a finger to your lips, still shell-shocked by the turn of events. You had actually kissed Amajiki and it was everything you’d imagined and more. Things couldn’t be going better and you two hadn’t even ate yet!

It wasn’t too long before your order arrived and Amajiki returned nearly back-to-back.

“Perfect timing,” You greeted him and took note of how he was no longer shaking like a leaf. “I might’ve gone overboard… don’t know if we’ll be able to finish all of this ourselves.”

“You’d be surprised by the size of the meals at Fat’s agency.” Amajiki chuckled as he took in the plates of steaming food laid out before you two. “What should I try first?”

You feigned being deep in thought before grinning. “Hm, just pick whatever.”

He reached for the platter of puto and you followed suit. They looked delicious, extra fluffy and topped off gooey cheese. Amajiki watched as you popped the entire thing in your mouth with zero reservation.

“They’re little steamed rice cakes.” You explained after swallowing.

Amajiki took a bite out of his and finished it soon after before grabbing another. “Mm, they’re very light. Do they always have cheese?”

“Depends, but a lot of the time, yeah.” You answered while helping yourself to a second of your own. “Hey, What could you manifest out of this?”

A mischievous twinkle flashed in Amajiki’s eyes as he raised a finger in a “wait a minute” fashion. You wanted to giggle at how his face scrunched up in concentration, but held back for his sake. After a short moment, a pair of small pale horns shot out from his purple hair.

You let out your laugh, nearly choking on puto in the process. “Nice!”

His cheeks were rosy as he scratched at the back of his neck. He looked focused once again before the horns seemed to be gone in the blink of an eye.

“Dairy products are always fun.” Amajiki stated while sipping his water. “I could’ve given myself two stomachs but I thought that was kinda gross…”

“Just a bit.” You agreed, laughing softly. “But also kinda cool.”

Next came the lumpia, a dish comparable to egg rolls. Amajiki seemed especially pleased as he took several bites out of one.

“Really good.” He confirmed with a nod. “Pork inside?”

“Yup.” You kicked him playfully under the table. “Think you could manifest one of those curly pigtails? Like in the cartoons?”

Amajiki froze like a statue midchew.

“Just kidding.” You reached over and gave his hand a quick squeeze. “Glad you like it.”

“I-I think I like you more, Y/N.”

The lunch date continued on. It was a quiet moment while you two were enjoying a hearty noodle dish when you were struck with a wave of warmth that filled you from head to toe. You felt so at home, sharing this piece of your culture with probably your favorite person ever.

Amajiki appeared utterly relaxed as he ate, cheeks tinted with a very soft pink. You noticed both of his pointy ears twitch a number of times and were puzzled before you remembered something Togata had said to you once.

“He’s done it ever since we were kids. When he’s really happy, his ears will do this twitch-thingy, but try not to point it out. He gets really embarrassed.”

It might have been the cutest sight you’d ever seen.

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tsuumu · 4 years

Note

saw that requests were open and😳😳 how ab fluffy best to lovers with iwaizumi or suga? like they are best friends and seem to always be touching each other in some way like hand on waist or knees touching etc. and confession happens and maybe... just maybe... kiss... if this doesnt fickle your pickle or you feel uncomfortable then feel free to ignore! your writing is great thank you for considering🥺🥺

hi anon, thank you so much for requesting! i’ve been doing requests when i feel like them (apparently 4:28am is the perfect time to start drafting this in my mind) so i apologise for how late it is!

i’ve also decided to split this into two parts, the first being sugawara and the second iwaizumi! i love rambling about cute conventional plotlines like this so there was no way both wouldn’t be excessively long put together.

part two will be linked here when i get round to it!

enjoy!

y’know, people actually do wonder if the two of you are somehow joined to one another in some bizarre manner. it’s practically impossible to see either of you away from the other for an extended period of time. and it’s not creepy, or weird. it’s ridiculously wholesome. they only enquire because both you and koushi take that classic ‘best friend’ trope to a whole other level.

it’s sweet. sickeningly so.

we’re talking after-school dates at the prettiest little cafe just off the side of the main road. it’s barely a ten minute walk, not that you’d notice seeing as the time is filled with consistent, care-free conversations between the two of you. koushi practically begs you to come with him whenever you’re free. you’ve both dubbed it your super secret spot, since other students don’t come so often or probably even know it’s there. his teammates ask him from time to time, where exactly the two of you go. it’s usually because you’re chortling amongst yourselves about some passage of prior conversation, or beaming unanimously over the sheer deliciousness of the pastries there, made fresh.

but koushi never tells. oh no. he wants it to be ‘our spot’ as he likes to call it. you think he’s just being funny and poke his arm whenever he mentions it, agreeing jokingly that he’s not allowed to take anybody else there but you.

you needn’t worry, he wouldn’t dream of it.

he’s always early when you do go, waiting for you by the school gates. and it’s crazy, the wave of comfort that washes over you the second you lay your eyes on the boy, it’s something you can’t experience with just anybody.

you have had your fears when it comes to finishing your third year, since your sights are set on finding employment deep in the heart of tokyo, koushi on the other hand, prefers the domesticity of the urban life. he’s perfectly at home where he stands. and you love that for him, you want him to be happy, truly, but the thought of having to bid the boy farewell seems incomprehensible. like you’ve offended yourself for even contemplating the prospect.

no, you’ve never actually brought up the subject with him. it’s a little early and all too much to say out loud. plus, what if you do and he’s completely nonchalant about it? you’re practically dreading the months as they pass, wondering if sheer luck will allow your friendship to continue with such potency whilst he’s totally oblivious and dismissive when you do get round to it! oh, god. you hate it. you hate that you’re overthinking the entire thing.

you know you’re short circuiting over something so pointless, trains exist, you’ll have the funds and means of transportation... but is it? losing someone who fills your day up is like losing part of yourself. you can already imagine what it’d be like alone, going to other bistros and constantly comparing them to that one. and how lonely you’ll be. how desperate to tell him everything that happens to you. how work goes, if you’re feeling homesick. you know he’ll call you often because he cares too much not to, which you’re thankful for, but it’s not the same. he won’t be here, he won’t be there to touch you like he does now, to keep you safe.

a gulp later and you’re totally fixated on the warmth koushi emits. you’d be grieving without it.

“lost?” a light brush of your forehead rids you of your thoughts.

“hm?”

he’s lightly plucking at the strands of hair hovering above you, focusing briefly. there’s a small speck of dust that’s been caught. after a few unsuccessful attempts, he manages to get it out.

well he mutters that he’s unsuccessful, but really, he’s finding inconspicuous excuses to feel how soft your hair is against the back of his palm.

“lost you for a second there.” he replies, before shifting back, blowing the dust from his fingertip. “everything okay?”

you feel so regretful daydreaming about him in front of his face, and it’s not even that, it’s the fact you’re with him right now, right this moment. you know that time is slipping and yet you’re wasting it mulling over pessimistic thoughts of the future.

“mm. i’m alright, sorry. thank you, by the way.”

“don’t thank me.” he picks up the dainty little cup and you study the floral patterns carefully, you recognize this one. well, you’re familiar with most of them now. if one would ever end up breaking, you’d probably know, since they’re so unique in their respective decorations and there’s only a few. koushi is extra careful with it, free hand slotted under the base of the cup. it’s elegant. he’s pretty when he drinks.

actually, you were thinking about all of that because he’d brought up graduation, his match with against shiratorizawa had gone down splendidly, no doubt even he was shocked they’d made it to nationals. koushi had often lamented to you about being karasuno’s substitute setter, though he admires kageyama plenty and knows what was best for the team. he’s awfully good at putting others first, even if he really wants to play. that’s what you’d concluded. soon after nationals, comes the end of the academic year. too soon, way too soon.

that awful feeling rises up again.

his hands stretch across the table, gently engulfing yours, and it’s lovely, really, how comfortable you are with one another. how instantly calming he is.

“you’ll come to watch us play, right?”

“i always come, silly. i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

you’ve never seen him so happy.

the evening he rushed to you straight out of the coach, breathless, telling you they’d won. it was like he was able to shine even brighter than he already did. and for a moment, you looked at him—really looked— and you wished you could’ve captured that moment, in all its glory, forever.

koushi. too good to be real, aren’t you?

you are listening, you swear to god you are. everything he says processes but realisation is eating you alive. you don’t think you can live without him. oh, you sound so flimsy, so pitiful and maybe you are. destably so. you’re too selfish for your own good.

but he’s still holding onto you, still careful with his grasp, but with the way his thumb skirts ever so gently across the ridge of your hand, he has no intentions of letting go just yet. you don’t want him to. you’d like to stay like this a while longer.

but it’s late and he’s exhausted from practice, especially now he’s doing twice the amount for nationals. he insists that even if he isn’t on the main roster, he’ll be needed. a team needs absolutely everybody to function properly.

so when he pays for you yet again, chair scraping slightly on the wooden planks of flooring to leave, your heart is caught in your throat, drenched in feeling like it’s the last time you’ll ever see him.

of course you follow him out, politely thanking the old lady who runs the cafe on your way. his feet are planted just steps away from the entrance, gaze to the sky, a flurry of darkness and escaping slithers of light. of course he’s smiling.

part of you wants to hit his arm, ask him how he could possibly be relaxed, stretching his arms lime that when you’re on the verge of losing it. but he hasn’t looked at you yet. when he does, he’ll know.

it doesn’t vanish, that affability that accompanies his grin, even when a look of concern is etched all over his face. it’s still so radiant. koushi doesn’t know how to be unkind. but he knows how to blind you.

“why are you crying?”

there he is again, thumb smearing at the tears that’ve barely slipped. you’re crying without realising. you were fine moments ago but now you’re sobbing so hard it’s difficult to breathe out. there’s nothing empty about it, they’re infuriatingly real, like you’ve already lost him. like he’s walked down the road, waved to you one last time and died.

suddenly there’s a million things you want to say to him, and another three years won’t be near enough to get them all out.

it’ll be too hard to explain over text, or call, too late too.

“ko-oushi..” you tremble out, and he knows you won’t be able to explain. he’s okay with that. just forgive yourself for now and he’ll walk you home. you don’t like to cry. you cry a lot but it never gets easier. he doesn’t mind, though. he likes how big your heart is, even if you insist it’s awful. what does worry him, though, is that someday someone might mistake it for weakness. you don’t deserve to know what true heartbreak feels like.

so, his hand’s in yours, consoling you like one would a child, always dabbing at those tears and telling you things will be alright. koushi knows that you’ll tell him when you’re ready, especially if it’s something that’s upset you this much.

“i don’t want to graduate.” is all you think to come up with, which is a blatant lie. you do want to. all you do is talk about how much you do, but you don’t want to graduate from him.

his response is a little tentative at first.

“why?”

“because.. i’ll go away. i’ll go far away and i’ll miss you.”

he’s deathly quiet, it’s terrifying.

“and if i miss you i’ll keep missing you until i can’t stand it anymore, koushi.” you ramble on, utterly humiliated that you’re confessing just how deep your dependency on him is. but you can’t stop. you don’t have time to. “i hate life. i hate that i can’t see a future without you. i don’t want to drag you back or control you in any way but god, i think i need you.”

you’re not quite sure what this is. is this.. a heated tangent, a sob-fest to a confidante, a guilt-ridden confession from an obsessive maniac? you hadn’t actually thought about what you wanted or would gain from telling him all this. perhaps it’d been bottled too long, longer than you were conscious of and this was the only resort left to release it. he’ll probably end up hating you by the time you’re done strangling out the last few words, deem you insane and ask you to seek some sort of professional help, knowing him, he’d help you find it.

it doesn’t matter. you’re talking and talking and talking, tripping unattractively over phrases and you have no intentions of stopping. not even to breathe, not like you have been anyway. you can’t even look at him whilst you parade yourself like this.

that’s alright with him. he really loves the sound of your voice.

he’s listening. he swears to god he is, but all he can think about is how happy you’ve made him. how he’d never leave you lonely.

but how could he ever convince you? unlike you, koushi isn’t the best with words. he’ll nod for hours and hours as you pour your heart out over something, and still come up empty. really, he doesn’t know what he wants either. he has ideas of the next few years, but he hasn’t even addressed the fact you’d be absent in all of it. you don’t know it, but he’s so used to you he’s practically filled you into his future automatically.

still, you’re talking, not too sure what you’re even saying anymore. and neither does he if he’s completely honest, but he’s too fond of you to mention it.

but he does it. he places his hand on the nape of your neck and kisses you.

he promises it’s not to be rude, or because he’s not interested in whatever it is you’re trying to say. but because he’s wanted to do this for ages. would it be overly dramatic to say the first time he lay his eyes on you? maybe. it wouldn’t be too far from the truth.

oh, god. he’s really kissing you.

he’s sweet tasting and nothing like you could’ve ever imagined. and believe you, you’d thought about it quite a bit. the way he’d feel against you. you’d never admit to anybody that you’d fantasied about this, feeling his tongue flutter over the seam of your mouth, hands dipping gently into the flesh of you as he tightens his hold on your waist.

why couldn’t you have accepted earlier you were fucking head over heels for him?

and of course he likes you back! he calls you his! he takes you on dates and touches you and has eyes for only you. how thick were you?

it’s alright.

at least you’ve gotten there eventually.

though a few months too late, you’re kissing him in the middle of your hometown, and he’s whispering against your lips that you won’t be losing him anytime soon.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #hq #sugawara fic #sugawara x reader #sugawara headcanons #sugawara hcs #sugawara fluff

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

Photo

The next Cinderella AU part is here...and I am so thrilled about this part, because not only do we get a new character (who I’m quite sure you can identify from the sketch above -- only my second time drawing him ever, and I’m actually pretty happy with it!), but we’ll also get a nice serving of drama! Goodie!!

Robin Hood as a legendary figure first originated through the oral tradition, so its history is a little hard to plot out, but his first reference in writing is a ballad from the 15th century. Although our modern image of Robin Hood is that of a chaotic good heroic figure, his original incarnation was decidedly less saintly -- he was a bandit, and although he did refrain from stealing from women, he was rather violent, reckless, and hot-tempered, as well as flagrantly against both clerics and all nobility. Robin Hood’s backstory of being a disgraced nobleman who turned outlaw after losing his title and land and who remains loyal to the “good king” Richard while opposing the unlawful regent Prince John was added later, presumably to make him a bit more “approachable” to an Elizabethan audience who was more accustomed to hearing tales about nobility (just look at a lot of Shakespeare’s plays from that period -- many of them center around royalty or the upper class). Plays about or referencing Robin Hood then increased in popularity on the British Isles throughout the 16th and early 17th century, until the rise of Puritanism in the 1640′s put a halt to theatrical productions. (Bloody kill-joys.) For more information on the history of Robin Hood’s development, I strongly recommend this analysis done by Overly Sarcastic Productions (...actually, just watch everything on their channel, it’s all great XD).

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

Carewyn had a lot of trouble returning to her daily routine at the palace the following morning. Getting so close to the border with Orion and hearing about how much scarier it was likely to get on the battlefield made her all the more worried for Jacob’s well-being. Even if the spell Charles Cromwell had paid for nine years ago made it so that Jacob would stay alive as long as he willed it, Carewyn dreaded the thought of what harm, physical and emotional, that Jacob might face. If she only had some idea which battalion he was a part of and where on the front he’d be, then she could always just try to send a letter his way...maybe even ask Orion to drop it off to the camp for her, since his father was an officer. But Carewyn had combed every military roster she could get her hands on, but hadn’t been able to find a single record of Jacob anywhere.

‘He must be under another name,’ Carewyn told herself.

It wouldn’t be too unreasonable that Charles wouldn’t want Jacob to advance in the ranks on the back of their family name. And really, Carewyn knew full well how displeased her grandfather would be if he found out she was trying to reach out to her brother without his approval -- he could’ve even forced Jacob to take on another name, just to try to make it that bit harder for Carewyn to contact him without his approval...

Carewyn’s friends noticed a rather abrupt shift in her mood. She was singing as always, but her choices were a bit less upbeat and her voice sounded oddly distracted and nostalgic. At one point, Andre mentioned offhandedly that he’d been designing themed outfits for his friends to wear to his mother’s New Year Eve’s Masque Ball, but Carewyn had trouble putting much attention on it.

“I’ve already finished some ‘owl wings’ on a cape for KC and a fur-trimmed wolf mask and gown for Erika...I was thinking perhaps a stag for Bill, a dragon for Charlie, and a lioness for Ginny? I considered a horse at first, but I think a pale gold would make her just glow, don’t you think? Yours I’m most excited for, though...I’m hoping to actually make your newest pair of shoes with fabric on the inside for comfort and diamond on the outside for sturdiness, if I can manage it!”

“Mm...that sounds great,” said Carewyn absently.

Her gaze was drawn out the nearest window, as far out as she could.

“...Andre,” she said slowly, “I realize this is very last minute, but...may I have this afternoon off, to go see my family?”

Andre blinked. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh no, no,” Carewyn lied with as pretty and reassuring of a smile as she could. “It’s just...well, it’s nearly Tristan’s birthday. My uncle keeps him very close to home, compared to my other cousins...I merely thought I might stop by and bake him a little something, as a surprise.”

Andre frowned slightly. “You...get along better with your uncle and his son than with Iris, then?”

“No, but Tristan is only a boy. It’s hard to hold any bad behavior against him. And well, maybe if he and the others don’t know I made it, he’ll enjoy it better.”

Carewyn could see Andre still looked confused and a little dismayed, so she quickly added, “I’ll be back by tomorrow morning, in time for my rounds. I won’t allow it to interrupt my duties.”

Andre offered a hesitant smile. “Well, all right...if it really means that much to you.”

Carewyn’s eyes softened. “Thank you, Andre -- I really appreciate it.”

Fortunately for Carewyn, Andre wasn’t the best at picking up on other people’s pretenses. Unfortunately for Carewyn, two of his most regular confidantes were his cousin KC and fencing instructor Erika, and they did pick up on Carewyn’s odd behavior.

“She said she wanted to surprise her cousin with something for his birthday?” asked KC, frowning deeply.

“Well, yeah,” said Andre. “I admit, it seemed a little weird to do something so nice without even wanting credit, but Carewyn is an awfully selfless sort. From the way she made it sound, she just wanted to do something nice for him.”

“And you believed her?” said Erika rather coldly.

She whacked Andre’s practice sword out of his hand with her own, making the Crown Prince hiss in pain.

“I’ve told you before, Prince Henri -- you all may think Carewyn Cromwell’s nothing like her family, but that’s absolute bunk. She might be more pleasant than them, but she’s not stupid and she’s not honest. Or did you not notice that that weird guy she hangs out with keeps calling her ‘his lady,’ as if she weren’t the penniless orphan of a deadbeat merchant?”

Erika picked up Andre’s sword and tossed it back to him with ease.

“Then of course that guy himself is shady as all get out.”

Andre frowned. “You mean Orion? Come on, Erika, he isn’t that bad -- I thought he seemed quite amiable, myself. Don’t you agree, KC?”

“He is,” said KC fairly. “But Erika isn’t completely off-base. There is a lot about Orion that we don’t know -- that even Carewyn herself doesn’t know. She admitted as much to me, after I first met him. That being said,” she raised her own sword and got into position to attack Andre, “I don’t think Orion’s a threat. You would think anyone with the ability to sneak over the palace walls not once but twice would’ve tried to make some move to attack you by now, but he’s only ever come looking for Carewyn. And although I don’t completely understand the reason behind why she’s acting like a lady around him,” she shot Erika a faintly reproachful look as she and Andre traded blows, “I’m pretty sure it has more to do with her own insecurities than because she’s a terrible person -- ow! Damn it!”

Andre had successfully disarmed KC.

“Insecurities?” he said, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “What is there for her to be insecure about? I mean, yes, she has no dowry, and taking Orion’s wardrobe into account, I’d suppose he has to come from a family with modest wealth -- but Orion seemed to enjoy the Weasleys’ company quite well, and their family is poor. I think they’d make a lovely match, really,” he added with a rather smug grin. “They even matched at the Festival, without realizing it.”

KC massaged her wrist, frowning a bit sourly. “Yes...but Carewyn is solely under Lord Cromwell’s charge. He’s the one who sent her here. He’s the only guardian she really has. And I think it’s quite clear how much influence he has over his family -- even his daughters who married into other esteemed families still live at his estate with their husbands and children, rather than moving out onto their own estates. And in Carewyn’s case, she doesn’t even have a parent to help shield her from Lord Cromwell’s will. She doesn’t have a penny to her name. So that means, in effect, she’s chained to him, and in those circumstances...well...”

She hesitated.

"Well what?” Andre prompted her.

KC looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“I didn’t want to say anything before without knowing for sure...but I think someone’s been looking at our military ledgers, documenting troop placements. Everything’s neatly put away the way they should be, but there are more fingerprints on them than before. And usually I’m the only one who has much use to look those up, whenever I’m ready to suggest a new war strategy...”

Erika’s eyes narrowed very sharply and she got right up into KC’s space. “And you’re only just saying this now?! That information could be critical to Royaume’s enemies! What if that guy Orion sneaked in not just to see Cromwell, but to get his hands on those? Or what if it was Cromwell herself, working in collusion with him?”

“Impossible,” Andre said forcefully. “Carewyn would never be a spy for the enemy -- it’s not in her character.”

“And I don’t think Orion would know where those documents would be, even if he did sneak in,” said KC.

Erika, however, looked unconvinced as she made for the door. “You can coddle those two all you want, but I plan to tell the King and Queen -- they’ll want to interrogate Cromwell and this ‘Orion Freeman’...”

“Erika, belay that!” Andre said in a suddenly much sharper and more authoritative voice. “That’s an order.”

Once Erika had stopped walking and turned back around, the Crown Prince exhaled heavily and crossed his arms in a business-like manner.

“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” he said firmly. “If Carewyn is heading to the Cromwell estate, she’ll have to take the road through town, correct? I’ll simply take a horse and follow the road after her.”

Erika and KC looked startled.

“Uh, Andre,” said KC, “you haven’t forgotten that you’re not allowed to leave the palace, have you?”

Andre smirked. “No. I’m just sneaking out.”

Before Erika and KC could articulate an argument, he added in a much sassier voice, “Look, I’m doing it whether you come with me or not. I’d appreciate the company if you want to come along -- all I expect is that you’ll dress appropriately. I hear linens and cottons are fashionable for those who don’t wish to attract attention.”

And so Andre, KC, and Erika made preparations to follow Carewyn...completely unaware that a half-hour earlier, Bill and Charlie Weasley had -- after having a similar, but much more concerned conversation with Badeea Ali about Carewyn clearly lying to Andre’s face -- decided to take their horses and tail their friend themselves. And sure enough, the two eldest Weasleys soon enough found themselves following Carewyn on the road heading northeast, avoiding the Cromwell estate all together.

At the very same time, in Florence, Orion had finalized his plan. Today was the day he was going to request a formal audience with Prince Henri, as Prince Cosimo VII. As Carewyn had said, he’d need to act fast if he was going to stop his father from finding a way to complete his own ruthless strategy -- the battlefield itself would be a difficult place for Orion to make his case, with so many distractions, but he knew a more balanced, peaceful setting wouldn’t be. And so he wrote a long letter to the King, explaining everything that he had learned from Royaume and its people as well as Florence’s own, so as to make a case for peace. He then had the court magician Severus Snape deliver it to the Florentine camp in his stead, while he dressed in his finest and prepared to leave for Royaume.

When he made as if to take his own horse, however, Orion found Skye and McNully waiting for him, a black coach already prepared.

“If you’re planning on going to meet Prince Henri, you really should arrive in style,” said McNully with a wry smile. “A good first impression to the King and Queen would help your case by a good 45%.”

“And you have to know there’s no way in Hell we’re going to let you go out and expose your true identity to the enemy without back-up,” Skye added, her arms crossed over her chest. “

Orion’s black eyes softened. “...Thank you.”

As he climbed into the carriage, both McNully and Skye’s faces nonetheless betrayed some hesitation.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” McNully asked. “There’s a 74% chance they’ll respond badly to it -- I reckon there’s a 39.5% chance they’ll try to arrest you on the spot and hold you as a prisoner of war...”

“I carry no weapons with me, and I come with the explicit purpose of diplomacy,” said Orion levelly. “Therefore I’m not an enemy combatant. As long as I follow their direction while under their roof, then any harm they might do me would be violating the conventions of war...and the Royaumanians, for all of their flaws, do have honor.”

“One could make a case for you having been involved in espionage, though,” McNully pointed out, but Orion ignored him and settled down in the carriage, crossing his legs offhandedly.

“What about Lady Cromwell?” said Skye, her voice a bit lower and more concerned. “She’ll find out you’re a Florentine. And not just any Florentine, the Prince of Florence.”

Something sad flickered through Orion’s confident, unflappable expression.

“She was going to learn the truth sooner or later,” he murmured. “If our time together has come to an end...then at least I may have the memories to hold onto...and the knowledge that by ending this War peacefully, I may have spared her of more heartache.”

He closed his eyes and began to meditate, clearly having said his piece on the matter. Skye and McNully, however, couldn’t help but exchange a look that was both anxious and very sad.

As long as they’d known Orion, he’d always been a little reckless, but he was also passive and avoided direct confrontation. This plan to directly appeal to Royaume’s royal family, however, required a lot of guts -- far more than either of them had thought Orion possessed. And they knew such courage could only have been encouraged by one person...the very same person who Orion loved so much that he would choose to follow her example and protect what she loved, even if it meant destroying their relationship forever.

Orion meditated during most of the journey to the Royaumanian palace. It was merely fortunate that, as they approached, McNully broke him out of his trance by tapping him on the shoulder and pointing out the window. If he hadn’t, then Orion would not have seen a rather familiar trio of riders on horseback, riding through town past them -- a short, stocky lady with dark red hair and freckles; a very tall blonde with a square jaw and sharp eyes; and a very handsome dark-skinned man dressed in a purple tunic, emerald green pants, and gold-buckled black boots.

“Stop the carriage!” said Orion, his soft, level voice nonetheless very firm despite not rising in volume.

He barely waited for the carriage to completely stop before slamming the door open and jumping out.

“Andre! KC!”

Andre, KC, and Erika all stopped their horses in an abrupt halt and turned around as Orion dashed up to them.

“Orion?” said Andre, startled.

KC looked from the rather finely dressed Orion to the expensive-looking black coach behind him and back. Erika’s eyes narrowed critically upon Orion as he came to a stop in front of them, his hands clasping in front of him.

“I...had not expected to see you out and about,” said Orion, trying to put on his most pleasant, calm expression.

Andre glanced over his shoulder up the road, frowning deeply. “Yes, well...some business has come up.”

“Orion, have you seen Carewyn?” KC asked him, her face very serious.

Orion blinked.

“Not since last night,” he said. He could feel his heart starting to beat faster. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“Never you mind,” barked Erika, as she turned back to the road. “Come on, we don’t want to lose the trail -- ”

“Erika,” reproached Andre, before he turned back to Orion, his face visibly concerned. “...Carewyn asked for the afternoon off to go see her family, but it was very last minute, which isn’t like her. And according to what we’ve heard in town, there’s been no traffic down the road toward the Cromwell estate in the last four hours...”

“So Carewyn had to have been lying about where she was going,” finished KC, her face much more stoic but her voice no less tense. “We need to find her and figure out why.”

Orion’s eyebrows had furrowed over his widening black eyes. His heartbeat was slamming in his ears as the memory of Carewyn in the woods returned to him -- looking northward, toward the army camps, as if longing to run toward them --

“I know where she’s gone,” he said at once.

He rushed back to the coach, grabbing onto the window frame and standing on the boot of the carriage.

“To the northern border,” he urged Skye, who sat in the driver’s seat. “Quickly!”

“The border?” repeated Skye as a sharp whisper. “But Orion, your meeting with the Prince -- ”

“Can come later,” Orion told her very firmly under his breath. “Both he and I must get to the war front.”

He shot a significant look over his shoulder in Andre’s direction. McNully, putting two-and-two together, nodded and inched himself up to the window of the carriage.

“If you tie one or more of your horses to the carriage, we should decrease our travel time by a good 21% per horse,” he told Erika, KC, and Andre. “If Carewyn left an hour ago, then with one horse, we should be able to overtake her within an half-hour -- two, within twenty minutes, and three, within ten. Though with Orion on the boot, there’s a 12% chance he’ll fall off if we ride at full speed, so we might have to go at 95% instead -- ”

KC fixed the blond-haired man with an incredulous look as she leapt off her horse.

“Are you really calculating all that on the fly,” she asked, looking as if she wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or amused, “or are you just pulling those numbers out of fat air?”

McNully couldn’t help but grin. “Excellent! Now I can officially say that I’ve been asked that question over a hundred times before.”

Still looking faintly bewildered, KC moved to help Andre, who’d quickly started attaching his, Erika’s, and her horse’s to the front of the carriage with the two black ones already pulling it, ignoring Erika’s incredibly sour and distrustful expression. There was no time to lose.

From the boot of the carriage, Orion directed Skye down the same road he’d taken with Carewyn the previous night, Andre, Erika, and KC riding with McNully inside the coach. Once they’d reached the forest, Orion caught sight of a familiar-looking golden eagle with a bandaged wing -- at the sight of the Florentine prince, the eagle gave a loud shriek and flew down into the trees, and Orion urged Skye to pursue him into the woods. The road took them deep into the trees, until at last the eagle landed on a branch over the heads of two familiar-looking ginger-haired men, who were bound with thick rope to a tree.

Bill and Charlie were stunned at the sight of such an elegant coach, but were absolutely beside themselves with relief at the sight of Andre, KC, and Erika. Erika immediately yanked a knife out of her ankle boot and set about sawing off their bindings -- once she’d cut Charlie free, he immediately rushed forward and grabbed Andre’s shoulders.

“We’ve got to hurry!” he said anxiously. “They’ve got Carey!”

“‘They?’” said Andre, very startled. “They who?”

“This band of Florentine bandits,” said Bill, his voice very low and urgent. He kept maneuvering his bindings as Erika cut them to try to sever them faster. “They cornered us so they could try to rob us -- they were willing to let Carey go since she was a lady, but she bartered with the leader, saying that they could take her so long as they left us alone. Claimed that they could probably get more money from holding her hostage than us, given her family...”

Both Skye and McNully glanced at Orion. The Prince’s face had lost most of its color -- he’d turned his face away and closed his eyes, breathing in and out slowly as he tried to stabilize his emotions.

“The bandits in these woods are Florentines, so I doubt they will harm you,” Baroness McGonagall’s words returned to his mind, “but I cannot be sure how they would respond to a Royaumanian, especially one related to one of their wealthiest noblemen.”

“They took all three of our horses and tied us to the tree so that we wouldn’t follow them,” growled Charlie. “They left us a knife so that we’d be able to cut ourselves free, but it’s so dull I reckon it would’ve taken us hours to do it ourselves...”

Bill succeeded in snapping the weakened ropes in half and leapt back to his feet, massaging his wrists.

“They must have taken her to a camp of theirs,” said KC, her dark blue eyes narrowing. “Even bandits need some base of operation.”

McNully nodded, resting his arms on the edge of the coach’s window. “The lady is right. Given where we are, I’d say the odds are fairer that it’s southeast of here.”

“Closer to the Florentine side of the border, you mean,” presumed KC, and McNully nodded again.

“They were heading south through the woods,” said Bill. “But we won’t want to bring the coach. They stopped us because they wanted money -- if they have any reason to think any of you have it, they’ll no doubt want to imprison you too...”

“On the contrary,” said Orion in a very low voice, “this carriage may be just the thing we need, to ensure that they don’t imprison us.”

Everyone looked at Orion, their faces all a mixture of incredulity and revulsion, but he seemed disinterested in explaining himself.

“We must be quick, McNully,” said Orion, and although his voice and face were as level and unreadable as ever, they both betrayed a slight edge. “Time is not on our side.”

With Bill now sitting with the driver’s seat next to Skye and Charlie hanging off the boot with Orion, the black coach set off again. Overhead Orion caught sight of the wounded eagle again, which shrieked at them warningly -- the Prince thought it must mean they were close, but did not respond fast enough to the trap set out in front of them.

The coach rode right through a certain cluster of vines, and within seconds, they had magically sprung to life, lashing themselves around the limbs of the five horses pulling the coach. The steeds reared back, panicked -- Skye immediately yanked out a sword from her belt and began hacking away at them, and Erika and Andre both leapt from the carriage with their own swords to help, but it was no use. The vines only lashed onto them, binding all three of them fast and making it impossible for them to move. And when things seemed like they couldn’t be any worse, without warning, a group of green-dressed men and women had swung down from more vines attached to the nearby trees, surrounding them in a tight noose-like circle and pointing their arrow-decked bows at them.

They were trapped.

“Well, well,” said a voice from the trees above, “we don’t often see coaches that ritzy out here.”

The voice’s owner leapt down to the ground. Unlike his companions, his hooded tunic was yellow instead of green. When he lifted his head enough that they could see his face, it was the host of a mischievous smirk.

“Especially ones crafted in Florence,” the dark-haired and eyed bandit said breezily.

Andre, KC, Erika, and the Weasleys all stiffened.

“Florence?” breathed Bill.

They all as a unit whirled on Orion. His face was remarkably calm and solemn as he stepped off the coach and in front of the others and faced the bandits’ leader, his hands clasped in front of him.

“We do not come seeking trouble,” he said. “We merely come to retrieve a lady who surrendered herself to you. Frame like a robin’s. Hair the color of a red sunset. Eyes the color of the sky.”

The bandit’s leader raised his eyebrows curiously. “The maid called Cromwell?”

“That is her.”

“And what reason would you desire her in your custody?” challenged one of the green-dressed bandits with a cocked eyebrow, a dashing man with tanned skin and dark brown hair.

“Wants to ransom her off himself, no doubt,” sneered another woman with messy brown hair and cold magenta eyes. “He probably works for Lord Malfoy -- we all know he’s the sort to make money off illicit enterprises and keep it all to himself, rather than give it to anyone who actually needs it...”

Two of the other bandits -- a pair of women with long red and short pink hair, respectively -- exchanged a sour look.

“We have nothing to do with Lord Malfoy,” spat Skye, vainly tugging against the vines binding her. “We wouldn’t collaborate with that rat if you paid us -- !”

“Skye,” said Orion in a quelling voice.

The last bandit, a very strong-looking man with dark red hair and emerald green eyes, frowned deeply at the leader, who considered Orion carefully.

“I know your face,” he murmured.

Orion inclined his head, his black eyes boring into the other man’s face. “I’m sure you do.”

The leader’s thin-lidded eyes narrowed critically -- then they widened, realizing.

“Bring out Lady Cromwell at once,” he said abruptly.

The others all whirled on him.

“What?!” cried all three women and the dashing man.

“Jae, are you mad?!” said the woman with the magenta eyes.

“Do it,” said the leader called Jae firmly, without flinching.

The strong bandit -- the only one who hadn’t questioned the leader’s direction -- grabbed a vine, which immediately retracted back up above them.

Jae glanced at the magenta-eyed woman. “Merula, have the vines set them loose.”

Merula looked rather scandalized. “What? Oh come on, you know how much of a pain it is, to have to recast a spell after it’s broken -- ”

“Better that we do it now than wait around for the spell to expire on its own,” Jae said dryly.

Still looking very reluctant, Merula nonetheless did as she was told, holding up her hand, which glowed with light green.

“The terms are now invalid,” she muttered sourly at the plants.

The plants sparkled with a similar green flare before falling limply off of the horses, Andre, Erika, and Skye. KC and Bill moved to detangle the now harmless plants from their companions and around the horses’ legs, and Charlie moved to soothe the frightened steeds.

Within a minute, the strong bandit was back, holding onto the vine easily with one hand and holding Carewyn under his opposite arm. She had her ginger hair tied back in a loose bun and was dressed in the green peasant dress she’d worn to the Festival and her slightly oversized brown shoes -- no doubt because it was the most comfortable dress for travel she had. Orion was also beyond relieved to see that she was perfectly unharmed -- not a single cut or bruise.

“CAREWYN!” cried KC, Andre, Bill and Charlie in relief.

All three of the men immediately dashed right over to her and threw their arms around her in a group hug.

“It’s all right,” Carewyn reassured them with a small smile. “I’m all right.”

“They didn’t hurt you?” Bill interrogated her.

“You must have been terrified -- ” said Andre.

“Where are the horses?” asked Charlie.

“Tied up in a makeshift stable over there,” said the pink-haired bandit with a wry grin and a vague hand gesture.

“A bit tricky to lug them up into treehouses,” added the red-haired one cheekily. “And no, for the record, we did not hurt Carewyn Cromwell. She may be a stick in the mud, but she’s a decent sort.”

“And brave too!” said the muscled man, beaming. “She wasn’t scared at all, not even when Merula stuck a knife in her face!”

“I was only getting fed up with her smart remarks,” huffed the magenta-eyed bandit called Merula. “You’d think she was the Queen of Sheba, with how she acts...”

“She is a proper lady, to be sure,” said the dashing bandit, shooting Carewyn a rather Casanova-like smile.

Carewyn tried to stifle a snort of laughter behind her hand as Jae approached her.

“Seems you’ll have an escort after all, Carewyn,” he said, lowering his bow with a slightly more serious look. “I don’t think I can convince you to reconsider, but under the circumstances...well, just make sure you’re careful. I’d hate to hear of Royaume losing one of its only honorable citizens due to their own stupidity.”

Carewyn inclined her head to him, her blue eyes very solemn. “I’m far from Royaume’s most honorable citizen, Jae, nor from any other country, I daresay. But thank you.”

Jae nodded. He then looked up at Orion.

“By your leave then, your Highness,” he said with an abbreviated bow.

He then nodded to the other bandits, and one by one, they all disappeared back up into the trees.

None of the people on the ground, however, gave them much mind. All of them had turned back around to face Orion -- Carewyn felt like her heart had stopped still as she stared, taking in his neat ponytail and finely tailored black doublet and hose and boots.

“...‘Your Highness?’ ” repeated Charlie, shocked.

Andre’s eyes widened. “Then...then you’re...?”

Orion swallowed, but somehow managed to keep his composure as he nodded. His eyes were locked on Carewyn’s face, never shifting and as turbulent as a black ocean.

“King Cosimo’s new heir,” KC breathed, her face flooding with fresh understanding around her amazement. “Cosimo VII.”

15 notes · View notes

pinestripes · 3 years

Text

Quiet Day (The Last of Us)

Summary:

The last few months in Jackson have been paradise compared to the hellish cross-country road trip that came before. But scars still run deep, and shadows can lurk around even the brightest corners.

Ellie has a bad day. Joel wants to help.

Rating: T for a bit of language

Can also be read here on AO3 and here on FFN.

Author’s Note:

I liiiiive! Feels good to publish something for the first time in...a year, actually, as of yesterday. I've had a busy and stressful year, though I'm sure a lot of you can relate. Anyway, I just love TLOU (as much as someone who has only watched playthroughs of it can), and I especially adore Ellie and Joel's dynamic. Thank you for reading!

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Joel is a light sleeper and an early riser. The latter has been a trait of his for most of his life; the former, however, developed by necessity once not being able to jerk awake the instant something went bump in the night became a death sentence. Both of these qualities together means that he rises before the first rays of sunrise stream into his room.

He throws on stained jeans and an old shirt. Scrubbing a hand across his bleary eyes, he lumbers into the bathroom. Once done in there, he heads downstairs and to his front porch, sinking into the rocking chair there with a sigh.

He opens the worn science fiction novel he’s been making his way through for the past week or two, quickly thumbing through the brittle brown pages before finding the one he dog-eared the day before. He wasn’t a big reader, back before everything went to shit, but he had been known to pick up a sci-fi or western, sometimes even a mystery novel, every once in a while.

Joel reads in the soft morning light for half an hour or so before he exchanges the book for the guitar that has been resting by the front door. He lazily strums a few bars of a couple different songs, humming. Ellie will be awake soon, and it’s their morning ritual that when she comes down he helps her practice for a little while before breakfast.

Contrary to his expectations, Ellie doesn’t make her appearance. A familiar anxiety, one he feels less and less often the longer they stay in Tommy and Maria’s compound, clamps down on his chest. He stands and leans the guitar against the wall, the instrument making a discordant twung when he drops it less than gently in his hurry. He stalks into the house and through the barebones living room, eyes on the stairs to the second floor as his footsteps quicken and the clamp squeezes, squeezes, squeezes—

He jerks to a stop when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He whips his head around to peer into the kitchen. Ellie is sitting there hunched over at the table, nibbling at a piece of buttered toast.

Suddenly Joel feels a little foolish. His heart is pounding, breathing shallow and quiet. He forces himself to take two slow breaths in and out, feeling the clamp slowly release, lungs expanding and taking in air once more. Finally, he says, voice nearly steady, “There you are, kiddo. Thought maybe you were still asleep.”

Ellie startles, looking up at him with a sharp intake of breath. (He’s surprised she didn’t hear his heavy footsteps into the house from the porch, actually.) Her shoulders relax again when she sees him. “Morning,” she says and returns to her toast.

Shaking off the last of the adrenaline rush and deciding he may as well join her for breakfast, he pads into the kitchen and starts getting out supplies for omelettes, thanking his lucky stars the hydroelectric plant has been providing the town with electricity, and therefore refrigeration, consistently for the last few weeks. “What do you want in your omelette?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Ellie?”

“Hm?”

“What do you want in your omelette today? I got some more green peppers from the garden yesterday, and we’ve got some ham, believe it or not—”

“I’m just going to have the toast today.”

“That all?”

“Yeah, I’m not really hungry.”

“You sure?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He leaves it alone and goes back to making his own breakfast. Usually Ellie would be chattering up a storm by now, but when he’s nearly finished with his omelette and she still hasn’t said a word he finds himself speaking again. “So, didn’t want to do guitar today?”

Silence.

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

He sets the omelette on his plate and brings it to the table, taking a seat to her left. “You alright? You seem kind of out of it this morning.”

She shrugs. He notices she hasn’t made much headway on the piece of toast. “I’m fine. M’just tired. Didn’t sleep much. What did you ask?”

He quirks a doubtful brow. “I asked if you didn’t want to practice the guitar today.”

“I just thought we could...take a break today.”

He nods, and returns to eating, deciding once again not to push the issue. By the time his plate is clean she’s finishing the last few little bites of the toast. They both stand to wash their plates and utensils. Per routine, Ellie washes and Joel dries.

Concerned with the continued silence, he decides to give one last try. “So. It’s Sunday. Got any big plans?”

“No, don’t think so,” she responds.

“Not gonna go see Jessie, or, uh, Dina? Or anyone?”

“Nah.” She scrubs at a pan mechanically. “I think I’m just going to stay in and read a book.”

“Alright, then.”

They finish up, and Ellie heads upstairs to her bedroom. He goes to bring the guitar back in from the porch, then stands in the middle of the living room for a minute, feeling a little lost. Finally he sighs and heads out back to weed the vegetable garden. He can tell it’s going to be a quiet day.

Every once in a while, something—a nightmare maybe, or maybe a bandit attack, he can’t always figure it out for sure—will shake Ellie. She’ll retreat into herself, go quiet and distant. She’ll be spacy and—well, he isn’t sure what else to call it but flat. Which is decidedly not Ellie-like.

He’s learned that if he tries to push too much, if he tries to convince her to get out of the house or to talk to him, she gets cagey and defensive. So, even though he hates to see her light so dim, he gives her space and makes sure others do the same. Sometimes she’ll reach out to him of her own accord, looking to talk or a distraction in the form of a guitar lesson. She’s usually back to herself by the next day.

It’s lunchtime once he’s weeded the garden and patched up a few wobbly posts on the porch railing, a continuation of his ongoing attempts to renovate the house. He heads up the stairs and to Ellie’s door. He raps his knuckles against it twice. At her affirmative response, he opens the door and pokes his head in. “I’m thinking I’m going to head to the mess for lunch. You hungry?”

She’s laying on her bed in a loose fetal position, facing the door with a book lying open in front of her at an angle that suggests she hasn’t actually been reading it. “I’m okay.”

“You sure? You didn’t eat much for breakfast.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Suit yourself, then.” He almost shuts the door, then remembers something else. “Hey, Tommy mentioned something about a roof needin’ fixin’ yesterday. He might try and drag me into helpin’ him with that after we eat, so it could be a couple hours before I get back. That okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He doesn’t worry; he knows it’ll be a few hours at least before she wants company. “Alright. See you later.”

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

Tommy does drag Joel into helping fix a roof, and it takes almost three hours, but he finally finds himself at Ellie’s door again.

He knocks on it, twice again. “Hey, uh...just wanted to let you know I was home.”

“Okay,” she responds through the door.

“...I’ll be downstairs.”

When she doesn’t respond, he walks away, intent on continuing his ongoing Sunday project—fixing the floor in the downstairs bedroom. He’s been replacing the busted up hardwood in the downstairs bedroom little by little on Sundays—when everyone gets the day off in town, with the exception of a regular rotation of necessary jobs like patrol duty. It gives him something to do.

When it gets close to 5:30, according to the cracked, flickering display on the oven, Joel squares his shoulders and heads back to his familiar place outside Ellie’s door.

He knocks, asking “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

He opens the door to see that she has shifted onto the floor, leaning against the side of the bed that’s facing the door, a book in her lap. He thinks she might have actually been reading it, which is a good sign.

“About time for supper. Ready to head over to Tommy’s?” Sunday night dinner at Tommy and Maria’s place is a regular part of their routine. Joel and Ellie host dinner on either Wednesdays or Thursdays, depending on the schedule.

She shrugs. “Eh, I’m not really hungry.”

Joel’s already decided that he is going to press the issue this time. She seems a little perkier, so he figures it should go over okay. “All you’ve had today is some toast. And they’re expectin’ us.”

Ellie pulls a face. It’s not as exaggerated as usual, but it’s close. “Do I have to?”

He jerks his head in the direction of the door. “Come on.”

She sighs and pulls herself up off the floor before shoving her hands in her pockets and trudging out the door. He follows behind, the twitch of a smile on his face.

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

Ellie’s still quieter than usual at dinner, which earns Joel questioning looks from both his brother and sister-in-law. He just answers with a shrug and a meaningful look, which they accept, already having witnessed a few of these days before.

As they finish up their lasagna, Joel goes ahead and suggests watching a movie. He knows Ellie loves the compound’s movie nights just as much as the little ones.

“Can we?” she asks eagerly, a familiar spark flickering in her eyes.

Tommy and Maria look at each other. “Well, sure. Why not?” Maria says.

They clear the table quickly after that and select an action movie that Joel is pretty sure he caught on TV one night ages ago when Sarah was at a sleepover. The pang the thought sends through him is quick and biting, but the way Ellie bounces in her seat on the couch with anticipation helps him put the thought to rest once he recognizes it.

He takes his seat next to her. Ellie starts out resting against the arm of the couch, chin propped in her hand, but by the beginning of the movie’s second big action sequence she’s shifted to lean into his side. He adjusts so they’re both a little more comfortably settled into each other, his arm draping around the back of the couch.

Neither of them move for the rest of the movie, except for when Joel’s arm shifts to settle around her shoulders.

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

By the time the credits roll, it’s dark out. They walk through the cool fall night back to their house. Joel is glad to see that the movie night has helped Ellie perk up to her normal self. She babbles about the film’s effects and discusses the story’s various plot holes and inconsistencies. For his part, Joel mostly just listens and occasionally responds in agreement.

“I mean, what even was the bad guy’s plan?” she asks. “The bald asshole kept babbling about missiles or something, but I’m pretty sure he never actually said what they were going to do with the missiles. Right?”

“Don’t believe he did,” Joel responds.

“And why did that one agent think going in without backup was a good idea? I mean, yeah, it was badass, but it was obviously going to fail from the beginning.”

“Don’t rightly know.”

“And for pete’s sake, why did the woman agent not have pants on for half the movie?”

“Because the people who made the movie were gross old men, probably.”

Ellie snorts. “You’re probably right.”

They lapse into a companionable silence for a few minutes before Ellie suddenly leans over to nudge Joel’s arm with her elbow. “Hey.”

“Hm?” he questions, turning to give her his full attention from where it had been scanning the night sky—as far as he can tell, the single positive effect of the apocalypse is the decrease in pollution, including light pollution, which means the sky is blanketed in stars no matter where you are.

She sticks her hands in her jacket pockets, looking away with flushed cheeks and scuffing the heel of her shoe in the dirt before turning to look him in the face. “Thanks, Joel.”

He doesn’t need to ask what for. “Anytime, baby girl.”

#the last of us #tlou #joel miller #ellie williams #naughty dog #pinestripes babbles #my writing #man it feels so good to publish something again

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remmushound · 3 years

Text

Lita's legacy, part 5!! @brightlotusmoon @scentedcandlecryptid

Mondo was heated with rage he had no idea how to express. Never before in his time as a human or a mutant had he felt any emotions near as intensely than he felt anger now. His skin felt hot, his stomach felt sick, and he felt like crying. But Lita was there still holding his hand and she was watching him intently, so he had to put on a smile while he got her to someplace safe and protected; as usual, it was on a rooftop.

“Lita, I need you to stay here while I go find a payphone or something.”

Lita frowned. “Why didn't you just use that other mutant's phone?”

Mondo blanked. Sure, he could say that he had been so mad that the thought hadn’t occurred to him, and he could admit his mistake and go back to ask to use an actual phone. Or he could find a payphone and pray to whatever higher beings there were for it to still work. He looked to the streets.

“He uh. Didn't have one. Stay here!”

Mondo gave Lita one last, comforting pat before jumping from the roof and landing with a painful crash in the dumpster below. “Ow.”

“Why didn't you use the ladder?” Lita called down, pointing to the fire escape.

“I have a technique!” Mondo grunted as he forced himself out of the dumpster and to his feet, risking a quick glance around both corners of the alley before falling to all fours and running across the street as fast as his starved body could carry him. He scrambled into the phone box, pulled a loose quarter from his pocket—he kept a bunch of change, just in case he could ever find anything worth buying— and pressed it into the slot. He hoped that was how it worked, like it did in the old movies he watched. He took Repo Mantis’ card from his pocket and, in quick glances between the card and the buttons, he dialed the number and held the phone up to his ear. He heard strange, beeping noises, and hoped that was a good thing.

“You are conversing with Donatello!” Came a confident, bold voice joined with the strange sound of clicking keys, “Are you friend, client, or evil brat come to ruin my day?”

“Suh dude! Uh.” Mondo Gecko cleared his throat and tried to sound professional. “Repo Mantis gave me this number.”

“I know a Repo Mantis.” Was the reply, and then a long pause.

“He… said you could help me?”

“Well, first, you can help me.” Donatello said, “What you need, kid? I got gadgets and gizmos aplenty and a brain that won’t let me sleep. Seriously. It’s been two days.”

Mondo stuttered. “Uh. That’s rough buddy. I… me and my friend tried to get a place in Repo Mantis’ junkyard.”

“Oo. Bad choice.” Donatello laughed, “Lot of crooks living in there, you know. That place is for the desperate and the destitute.”

“Um. I— guess I’m both.”

“Oh. Unfortunate.” He smacked his lips, “What can I do you for, mister desperate and destitute?”

“Repo wouldn’t let me and my friend stay in his junkyard because my friend, like, has this medical condition.”

“That doesn’t sound like Repo. He don’t discriminate by anything more than how much money you have in your pocket. What kind of condition does your friend have?”

“I’m uh… not like, entirely sure what it is, if I’m being completely honest.”

“Physical or mental?”

“Physical…”

“Any medicines she should be taking?”

“I— I don’t know…” Mondo hated not knowing the answers to the questions he was being asked, but what could he do? He had to answer honestly! He put in another quarter to give himself longer to talk.

“Mm. Current place of residence?”

“We… don’t really have one anymore.” Mondo admitted. “I told you— we were supposed to be going to Repo’s place.”

“Right, right. Name?”

“I am Mondo Tubular Gecko.” Mondo gave the sound of a strumming guitar out of habit before remembering what he was talking about. “And uh. My friend’s name is Lita.”

“No last name?”

“No.”

“Alright, Mondo Gecko.” Donatello cleared his throat, “Where are you currently?”

“Uh, lemme check!”

Mondo left the phone and ran out into the streets to check the nearby signs, then ran back and reported them to Donatello.

“Fan-freaking-tasking. You stay there with your friend, and I’ll be there in just a mo’ with a medic to give her a once-over and give the all-clear to our mantis friend. Don’t move.”

Mondo froze.

There was a pause before. “You can move away from the payphone, just don’t leave the area!”

“Oh, right on, right on. Wait. How’d you know I was on a payphone…?”

“I know and see everything. Tah tah!”

Mondo returned to the rooftop to wait with Lita. Only a few short minutes later, both of them were surrounded by three average-sized mutants and one giant, their muscles chiseled and defined by years of hard labor and faces that said they were in their early twenties, if that. Mondo Gecko tucked his tail between his legs and hugged it for support. He hadn’t been expecting so many to show up, but he couldn’t back out now.

“You the one who called?” Asked an unfamiliar voice from the brightest mutant in a blue bandana.

Mondo Gecko nodded slowly.

“Where uh. Where’s your friend?” The largest one gave what Mondo Gecko supposed was meant to be a comforting grin, but it came off as predatory and malicious.

“She’s right here. It’s okay Lita…” Mondo Gecko grabbed Lita by the arm and gently guided her out into the open.

“Aww.” The orange-spotted mutant cooed, “You’re so cute!”

Lita whined and pressed her carapace into the crook of Mondo Gecko’s arm for security. A purple-clad mutant split from the group and approached Lita, pulling goggles down over his eyes and scanning her with a red and blue light for a moment before he pulled the goggles up and his mouth fell open.

“Woah…” Just from the tone, Mondo immediately knew it was the one from the phone. He stood up, walking over to the blue-clad turtle and whispering something to him. Mondo strained to listen. “...major ectopia cordis, possible thoracic insufficiency. Pericardium is still intact. Also suffering from oculocutaneous albinism OCA1 and what appears to be second-degree burn scarring on her face and hands. Accompanied with her ectopia, it may allude to significant lung tissue damage.”

Lita looked down at the pink burns on her hands, and then back up as the purple and blue adorned turtles made their way over to her and Mondo with attempts at gentle, comforting smiles.

“Hey Lita…” The blue-dressed turtle kneeled and offered a hand to the albino turtle. “I’m Leonardo. Do you mind is I take a look at you…?”

Lita looked at Leonardo’s three fingered hands, then held out her own matching hands and looked down at them with a curious glint in her eyes. The new turtle was still smiling, his hand still outstretched. Lita accepted it and let herself be guided away from Mondo.

“I’m just gonna take a look at your heart and lungs, okay?” Leonardo asked, and when Lita nodded her consent, he took out a flashlight and shined it in the center of Lita’s chest, watching the beat of her heart with a soft curiosity. “Wow… okay, this might feel a little cold, but it’s going to help me hear your lungs, okay?”

Leonardo pulled out a device that Lita didn't recognize, letting her look it over for only a few seconds before bringing it to her chest to listen to her breathing. He kept the cold tool there for a moment before pulling away and walking back over to whisper to Donatello, who took quick notes of his brother's words. While they talked, Lita’s eyes couldn’t help but explore the sight of the other two mutant turtles that stood nearby. They were shoulder-to-shoulder with each other, staring at Lita and whispering softly in serious, curious voices. Lita felt unbelievably small compared to them.

“Lita.” Leonardo’s voice came again, “My brother here is going to take some measurements of his shell to see if he can’t get you fitted with something.”

Donatello stepped forward, standing unlike his kneeling brother, and addressed Lita like an equal. He pointed to the straps over his shoulder, “See this?” He turned around to show her his battle shell before turning back around to face her, “This is my battleshell— aka, my livelihood! Since there are no surgical options to help you with current technology, I am going to make you something just like this, except on your plastron instead of your carapace. It will cover your heart, so you aren’t just… hanging out there and give you additional protection against brunt force trauma.”

As Donatello continued to rant, he finally kneeled, but not to address her face to face; he started to measure the area of her plastron with careful, calculated measurements while metal arms coming from his battle shell scribbled down the notes he needed.

“I can design it to grow with you, but you will have to come back every two years to get a replacement fitting, so it doesn’t get too worn down and become structurally unsound.” He finished his measurements and stood back up, “We can arrange a meeting in two months to get you suited with your brand-new plastron. How’s that sound?”

“Good.” Lita squeaked softly.

“Do you guys have anywhere to go until then?” The biggest brother asked in the softest voice.

Mondo came back over and wrapped a thin, lanky arm around Lita and gave her a comforting squeeze. “Um… we can go back to the vent I guess.”

All four turtles immediately shook their head and voiced their disagreement.

“No.” The red brother insisted, “No— we ain’t letting you leave here until you have a safe, comfortable place to stay! Like our place!”

“Yeah!” The orange-spotted turtle chirped, “You guys can have my room!”

“And it would be better able to keep an eye on her condition.” Leonardo added, walking up behind the two of them and wrapping supportive arms around the two children. “Trust me, niño y niña! You’ll love it at our place!”

“Think dad’ll let them stay?” The orange turtle chirped.

“You kidding? Dad would never turn away a couple’a kids!” Leonardo declared, “You can stay with us until we get you decked out someplace nice! How’s that sound?”

Lita smiled softly. “It sounds amazing!”

~~~

Two hundred years passed since that day, but Lita remembered it so clearly. She was sure she would be able to find her way around the past city even without the aid of Donatello’s maps, but still he insisted on her having one. She didn't think it was important enough to argue— it was only a day trip. Just get the egg and get out. She didn't know why her friends were all acting so weird about it though; she had gone on tons of missions into the past with the time scepter, and this one would be no different.

When she arrived in the city, the first thing she did was take a long, deep breath of the clean city air. Clean, at least, compared to what she had grown used to. She couldn’t spend long enjoying it, though. Tokka needed to be brought back home. Though she was reluctant to admit it, Donatello’s map had indeed helped her just as he said it would. Squeezing herself into the sewer was harder than she would care to admit, but she made it work. Then she had to swim, which was of little concern seeing as she was built to be aquatic.

She emerged in a place that sparked an odd memory and made her heart give a strong pang. She knew this place— and she knew those two creatures staring back at her as they held her little Tokka.

“Holy shell…”

#this connects to ‘Are you my dad’#thanks 4 reading!

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gothic-safari-clown · 3 years

Text

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

PART SEVEN: CONFESSION

Story Summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they’re reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they’ve both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan’s side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six

Words count: 3235

Elianna, generally speaking, was extremely stubborn by nature. As such, the more people told her that she couldn’t do something, the more she resolved to do it. She had been like that for her entire life, and very rarely was she convinced to concede.

However, she no longer had any qualms about passing off the Zsasz case. The day before, she had been pretty insistent upon keeping Victor as a patient, but that had been before he had not only escaped what was supposed to be a very secure institution for the fourth time, but had also found out where she lived. Unless he had somehow already found out from whoever must have helped him after their first session. God, had he been planning that from the beginning? El thought back to what he had said when he had passed her and Jonathan in Arkham as he was being escorted back to his cell.

“Leave your door unlocked for me.”

She shivered at the memory. In hindsight, she couldn’t believe how stupid she had been to have still gone to her apartment after that. While she wasn’t unintelligent, it was true Jonathan had always been the smarter one. But, Jesus, that was the worst thing for her to have done in that situation. I guess I’ll blame that on being stubborn too.

She pondered all of this, still in bed next to a restfully sleeping Jonathan, hours before she even needed to be awake. After sleeping for only a few an hour or two herself, she had woken herself out of a nightmare and had been unable to fall back asleep despite how tired she felt. It seemed that all of her sleep lately had been cursed by restlessness.

Suddenly, she was struck by the memory of the strange, shadowy figure that had saved her life in the parking lot. What was that thing? It had been man-sized and shaped, but she clearly saw pointed ears on top of the head in her memory. Even after being in Gotham for such a short period of time, El was acutely aware of the masked criminals that ran the streets. Still, in her tired haze and confusion surrounding the whole situation, she couldn’t recall having heard of a man dressed as a…a dog? Some kind of bat, maybe? Either way, it seemed a very poorly made costume.

The fact that whoever it was had attacked Zsasz was somewhat comforting, she supposed. But the question remained, was this person malevolent and just happened to have a personal vendetta against Zsasz, or was he some sort of vigilante that no one had heard of yet? Assuming this is a new development, I imagine we’ll find out over the coming months.

In the meantime, El was plagued by the feeling that she was being watched, despite being several stories high in a relatively safe part of the city, not that anywhere in Gotham could truly be considered safe.

Despite the knowledge that nobody could be watching, she shifted closer to Jonathan and cast a wary look around the room to identify the source of her discomfort, finally deciding that there was something about the window that made her uneasy. It seemed too dark outside, given that they were in a large city, but she knew better than to get up to close the curtains. She had seen enough horror movies to know that when she did, there would be a face pressed against the glass, watching her sleeplessness.

The image in her head of a person waiting on the ledge outside, waiting for her to fall back asleep scared her, even though she knew it was impossible. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself not to think about it. It’s amazing the things almost being murdered will do to your brain.

Jonathan shifted in his sleep suddenly, effectively taking her mind off things for a few seconds. She could tell that he hadn’t gotten enough sleep the previous few nights (she blamed Scarecrow) and made an effort hold still, hoping that she hadn’t woken him up. After a few seconds, he settled back into his pillow. She sighed and allowed herself to relax as well. I should try to get back to sleep before work. She would be damned if she had to stay home, even after everything that had happened. She needed the people she worked with to take her seriously. Going about a normal routine after almost dying twice seemed a good way to establish rank. Maybe stubborn and stupid, but what was the worst that could happen at that point?

All things considered, she felt surprisingly stable for someone who had had three near-death experiences in the past few years. Maybe there was something wrong with her that just hadn’t manifested yet? Thinking about that possibility, she wouldn’t be surprised. It might explain how she was finally on the verge of falling back asleep.

Eventually, her exhaustion got the better of her. Jonathan’s building had much better security than hers; surely, she would be fine to sleep those last few hours away…

.xXx.

Four hours later, El’s phone alarm sounded, blaringly loud in the previously silent room, and she scrambled to turn it off while Jonathan rolled onto his stomach and groaned into his pillow.

“Why do you wake up so early?” His voice was muffled.

“It takes longer for me to get ready than you. It’s nothing new. Go back to sleep.” El yawned and patted the back of his head before standing up, stretching and cracking her back.

He seemed to take her advice, and his breathing evened out again as she retrieved her duffle bag from the living room and headed to the bathroom to get ready for work. She had just finished washing her face and brushing her teeth and was starting in on her makeup when Jonathan walked in, looking tired.

“I’m awake now.” He yawned as he leaned back against the counter next to her and rubbed his hand down his face.

“I can see that. I’m sorry,” El replied genuinely—if a bit distracted by her foundation.

“It’s fine; I was starting to dream about Granny again,” he dismissed; El nodded and continued her routine as he watched.

“Can I help you?” She asked, slightly perturbed by the attention. He shrugged.

“There’s nothing better to do at the moment. Besides, I want to find out how it’s possible that you actually use all those brushes every day. It seems like overkill.”

“They’re all good for different things, now hush,” El mumbled in response, trying not to let him distract her from her eyeliner. “You know, if you talked to more women, you might be able to see them put on their makeup, and maybe even naked sometimes.” Now she was actively trying to get him to leave her alone; it was far too early not to be annoying about it, though. Sometimes she just couldn’t resist embarrassing him.

“Don’t give Scarecrow any ideas this early in the morning, or he’s going to think about you like that all day, and I have to hear it,” Jonathan said in mild disgust and shut his eyes in exasperation.

“Ooh, gross. Really?”

“Yeah. Breakfast?”

“No, thanks, love.”

“You should eat.”

“I should, but I’m not hungry, and you’re distracting me. Thank you, though,” she replied more forcefully. He shrugged again and meandered toward the kitchen. “Tell him to behave!” She called after him.

No longer distracted, El finished up and picked an outfit for the day, getting dressed quickly and walked out to the kitchen where Jonathan had already dressed and was making his way through a bagel while glancing over the newspaper. “They didn’t know your name. Would you mind if I started calling you ‘lucky woman?’”

“Sure! Would you mind if I start 'giving Scarecrow ideas’ every morning?”

“Still not a morning person, I see.”

“Nope.” El stole a quick sip of his coffee before grabbing her purse. “Carpool?”

Jonathan agreed, finished his bagel and coffee, and they walked to his car. In a few minutes were on the road sharing comfortable silence. El found herself reminded once again of the stranger that had saved her the night before. She decided to ask Jonathan about it; maybe he’ll know more than I do.

Then again, what if he thought she was crazy? A man dressed up like…oh, who could tell? What if it had been an adrenaline-fuelled hallucination? Jonathan wouldn’t turn her in, would he?

Of course not. The personality with whom he shared a mind was violent and murderous and had convinced him to kill his great grandmother—although, the old crone had it coming. Where the hell did that thought come from? That’s a horrible thing to think.

Either way, compared to that, seeing a man dressed as a…as something while fighting crime seemed perfectly sane, especially in Gotham. Not to mention the fact that whoever it was had definitely tackled Zsasz. It had to be real, or she wouldn’t be sitting there in the car.

“Jonathan?”

“Mm?” He responded right as they pulled up to Arkham. Damn, she had thought for too long; she didn’t feel comfortable talking about this where other people might hear. Jonathan might not think she was crazy, but someone else might.

“Remind me to talk to you about something later,” she conceded with a sigh and waited for him to park so that she could get out of the car. He caught up to her a second later.

“Why not now?”

“Because you already know I’m not crazy.” He looked at her pointedly but didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Do I?”

“Oh, shut up,” she smiled and elbowed him gently as they walked inside. Jonathan allowed himself a soft smile.

“I have to stop by my office for a minute, but then I’ll meet back up with you in your office before your first appointment. I have to talk to you about something.” El nodded.

“See you in a few minutes, love.” She walked herself to her office, stupidly worried now that she was alone. She knew that she relatively safe with security everywhere, but even so, she pulled on the door after it closed to ensure that it was locked. Paranoid. Zsasz wasn’t even there. She had seen in Jonathan’s newspaper in the kitchen that Victor was facing trial that day.

Not to mention whatever it was that Jonathan had to talk to her about. Knowing him, El didn’t even want to try to guess what that discussion would be like.

She killed a few minutes organizing paperwork that she had allowed to pile up, realizing that she would need to stay late to file that night and reviewing her schedule. Her first session wasn’t for a few hours yet, which gave her time to stave off the fear that another of her patients would attack her. I just got off to a bad start. A really, really, really, really bad start.

A knock on the door made her jump and then roll her eyes at herself. “Who is it?” Seriously? Nobody that would knock wants to kill you, El.

“Three guesses who.” Came Jonathan’s response, and she pressed the button to open the door for him. “I’m gonna have to stay a bit late tonight.” He informed her as he walked in.

“That’s alright, me too.”

“Well, that works out.” He sighed, pausing in the middle of the room for a moment. “I also need to leave for a while right now, but first, there’s a lot that I need to explain to you, and it can’t wait, so I need you to listen.” What?

“O-okay.” She nodded slowly. “What’s up?” She leaned back in her seat as Jonathan came around and leaned back against the desk in front of her, setting his briefcase next to him.

“Alright, there really isn’t a good way to ease you into this given the time crunch, so I’m just going to tell you all at once, okay?” Still confused, El nodded again. “First of all, I’ve been conducting experiments on patients here, research not sanctioned by the asylum.” He paused for a beat, giving her a chance to think about the confession. “A while ago, I perfected a recipe for what I call a 'fear toxin.’ In short, it causes the subject to hallucinate whatever they fear most, which allows me to study the effect of fear on the human mind.”

“What the fuck?” The question escaped El quietly as she closed her eyes in an attempt to help herself process the information that her friend was offering up out of the blue.

“I know, but I’m not finished yet, okay? Stay with me.” El found herself nodding on reflex. “The key ingredient that I need for each version comes in from overseas, it’s shipped here, and I’ve been working with Carmine Falcone, the mob boss, to bring it in.”

“Wh-what does this have to do with me? Why are you telling me this?” El asked in a panic, shaking her head, her eyes still shut. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing or how easily Jonathan said it. He was lucky that the security system was video only, no audio. Or maybe she was unlucky; it all depended on what his motivations were for sharing this information.

“Because Zsasz used to work for Falcone, but Falcone won’t risk Zsasz going to prison and leaking the secrets of the organization; as long as he’s here, regulations dictate that he has to be kept relatively comfortable and isolated, so he has no reason to leak information. I’m going right now to testify on his mental state so that he gets admitted back here.”

“Stop-stop talking for a second, hold on.” Elianna lifted a hand and tried her best to control her breathing. Jonathan did as she asked and waited while she began to gather her thoughts. “Just please, please tell me that you aren’t the one who’s been helping him escape.” She demanded quietly, finally opening her eyes but staring at the carpet. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him until she knew that he wasn’t the one to put her life in danger. She had never before felt unsafe around Jonathan. Scarecrow, yes, but never Jonathan, but this sudden dump of information had her suddenly questioning everything that she knew.

She should never have come back to the east coast. She should have stayed bored in California and just contented herself with their long-distance friendship.

Jonathan lifted off the desk and crouched down in front of her, making her look at him, however reluctantly. “Listen to me, El; I know that I’ve done a lot of horrible things, okay? I can admit that. But one thing that I could never do is put you in danger on purpose.” In a calm voice, he spoke slowly, and against her better judgment, Elianna found herself believing him. She nodded.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “Alright, I trust you, but I still don’t understand why you’re telling me any of this.” Her mind was still racing to make sense of anything that he had said in the last few minutes, although she began to realize that she shouldn’t really have been surprised. From the second that she had found out about Scarecrow, El had known that there was something—someone inside him that was more than capable of horrific things.

She found herself wondering, not for the first time, how Jonathan would have ended up if Scarecrow had never come along. Granny Keeny should have been the only warning that she needed to stay away from Jonathan, starting years ago.

Then again, if she had managed to look past and even help him cover-up the “accident,” the strange circumstances of the old woman’s death (or so they had passed it off), then she could find a way to look past this. There had to have been a reason he was telling her any of this, besides making her an accomplice. There needed to be.

“Okay,” she took a deep breath. “Tell me.”

“If I’m going to get Zsasz back here anyway, then I can get him transferred to my caseload, which puts us in the perfect position to make him regret coming after you.”

“Whoa, hold on,” El lifted her hand again to interrupt him. She almost felt bad for interjecting so often, each time having to remind herself that she wasn’t in the wrong this time. “I’m assuming that you mean you would use this 'fear toxin’ on him? In which case, he could have a full metal break, and then they would have to investigate you, so won’t they be able to trace it back to us?” Jonathan shook his head.

“They won’t find anything. I already have it all figured out. It’s an original formula, if they examine him, they may find severely elevated stress levels, but unfortunately, that kind of break happens to people all the time in here; as long as he’s alive, anyone looking into Zsasz won’t bother to test for any externally administered chemicals.”

“I-” El found herself at a loss for words by how quickly Jonathan had worked this out. “F-fine, just…give me another minute.” She stood from her office chair and began to pace, suddenly feeling claustrophobic, trapped in by the sudden wave of disturbing new information.

She couldn’t deny that the thought of mercilessly dealing revenge upon the man who thought that he could get away with killing her sounded incredibly satisfying. It was a natural desire to exact one’s pound of flesh, and even before her involvement Victor Zsasz was a murderer. A deranged serial killer that had killed how many women before she had even thought of moving to Gotham?

Elianna began to realize that she could remain in denial about what had happened to her for as long as she wanted, but she would never feel truly safe again until something was done about him.

She knew it was technically wrong, but she wanted Victor Zsasz to feel the terror that she did when she pictured his face—Lovecraftian, skeletal, bathed in yellow light—and if Jonathan’s toxin could do the job, then she wanted to do it.

Before her logical mind had time to talk her out of her resolve, she stopped pacing and looked at Jonathan. He looked back expectantly, sitting on the edge of her desk again. With an air of finality, she nodded. “Let’s do it.”

“Good.” He checked his watch and stood, taking his briefcase. “I need to leave now, but I’ll be back in a few hours. Just go about your day like normal, and we can talk semantics tonight.” El nodded in response in a stupor over everything that had happened in only two short days. She wasn’t even aware enough to be surprised when Jonathan kissed her head as he left her office, instead returning trance-like to her seat and wondering just the wrong side of too late, did I make the right decision?

#the mind's power over the body #jonathan crane #scarecrow #batman begins #nolanverse #elianna montgomery #jonathan crane x ofc #slight au #fanfiction #multi chapter fic #attraction to the insane #cillian murphy #cillian murphy scarecrow #tmpotb chapter 7

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imjeralee · 4 years

Text

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 8 - Me Kill You

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen

Me Kill You

…

[Robert the Doll is the world's most haunted doll. It can move on its own, change its facial expressions and cause misfortune]

…

After Sonia’s helped you pick an outfit and matching shoes to wear for tomorrow’s dinner, you fish out the Wooloo plushie from your closet. You had mentioned to Leon a while ago that you had a spare for his little brother and you inspect it, turning it round and round. It’s clean and in great condition so you place it carefully inside a white plastic bag, tie the straps together and leave it beside your backpack on the floor, ready for tomorrow.

When it’s around eleven pm, Sonia, Cutiefly and Poltea go to sleep so you quietly make your way downstairs. Magnolia has left spare food for you as usual and after reheating it, you carry the food with you to the lounge and sit down on the sofa.

You’ve got a whole night ahead of you and you have no active cases so it’s a good time to study Gengar.

It’s peculiar; for the past couple of years and you didn’t think about owning pokemon but here you are with a Gengar and Froslass, though you will need to hand the ice pokemon to Graves very soon.

It’s inevitable and hopefully she will be in better hands under the right ownership. You had thought about releasing her but if Graves finds out, you’re done for.

You finish your food and when Gengar emerges from your shadow, you grab your journal and ask him to stand still so you can sketch him.

He can only stand still for a few seconds or so before he yawns and decides to float in the air and cartwheel around the lounge.

When you finish the sketch, you ask him to stand before you which he does, his feet touching the ground for a change, and you use a measuring tape to take note of his height. He is roughly five foot eleven.

“You’re very tall compared to the average Gengar,” you utter and he nods vigorously, grin widening. “You have teeth too. Human teeth.”

He nods again and opens his mouth wide, showing you his pearly whites. You tap your chin with your pencil, tilting your head to the side as you inspect his mouth.

“You even have a human tongue.”

Gengar proceeds to stick his tongue out which extends all the way out of the door of the lounge and into the landing.

“Interesting…”

You use the measuring tape to work out the length of his tongue and it turns out to be even longer than his height. Once you’re finished, Gengar rolls his tongue back up and chuckles darkly.

“Well, according to the pokedex entries, you were a human in your past life…” you put the measuring tape away, flip your journal to a certain page and read aloud, “'Should you feel yourself attacked by a sudden chill, it is evidence of an approaching Gengar. There is no escaping it. Give up’.”

Gengar laughs in response and rolls around the air with glee, clutching his tummy.

“Do you remember your past life?” you ask and he pauses to ponder, then shakes his head. “Do you remember how you became a Ghastly?”

Again, he shakes his head.

“So you woke up one day and you were a Ghastly?”

He puts a hand on his hips and a hand under his mouth as though deep in thought, but shrugs.

“What did you do when you were with the Duke?”

Gengar glances round, points at your pencil which you give to him; he returns to float in the air, then pretends to stab at the air viciously and as though he is fighting an invisible enemy.

“You fought in a war?”

He nods and returns the pencil to you, sighing inaudibly and wiping his forehead. He looks tired.

“This is really interesting,” you mutter to yourself, scribbling notes in your journal before you reach over and pat the top of his head.

He is rather cold to touch and you retreat.

"You’re tangible," you mutter, before you plant your hand over to where his stomach should be to pat his belly. Much to your surprise, your hand sinks in and you feel...nothing. You attempt to grab but you cannot even feel your own fingers. "Whoa. Obviously you can be tangible or intangible at your own free will. What’s inside you? Can I see?"

Gengar nods, grabs you by the arms and pulls you inside his tummy face-first for a few seconds or so. When he pulls you back out, you gasp and blink dazedly.

"...Darkness, swirling vortex of nothingness, an eternity of black, a void," you mutter unfocusedly, before you quickly rush to the kitchen and pull open one of the cupboards to grab a few snacks, tearing off the wrappers and stuffing them into your mouth. You even grab a chocolate bar, unwrapping it and munching it quickly. You feel better at once and sigh with relief. Putting the chocolate bar down, you exclaim, "I shall write this down!"

You return to the lounge, flinging yourself over the sofa to grab your journal and you begin jotting down what you had witnessed and experienced when Gengar showed you his insides.

You describe how there was nothing and you had no sense of self, nor were you aware that you were alive though you experienced intense feelings of hopelessness, despair and sadness and you also write down that he smelled somewhat of sulphur but the golden question really is:

"Hey Gengar, can you take me to the spirit world?"

He looks at you with widened eyes, then shakes his head.

"Why not?"

Glancing left and right, he grabs one of the flowers from Magnolia's vase on the mantelpiece and holds it in his hands, then moves to float on his back, lying horizontally in the air as he clutches the flower to his chest with his eyes closed.

"Yeah, I know one is usually dead in order to go there but...can’t you separate me from my body?”

He looks confused.

“Like, um….split my soul from my body?”

Gengar glances at you before he circles the side of his head with his finger.

“Don’t give me that, I’m not crazy, okay? I mean, what happens if a living person is accidentally brought there? Can they escape? Are they alive or dead?"

He looks confused by your question and again, imitates being dead.

You sigh, shaking your head, and turn to a new page of your journal, eager to study more and so you let Froslass out of the capsule and into the lounge.

You sketch her as she looks around and inspects random objects; she appears curious about her surroundings and eventually picking up one of Sonia's hairbrush which she had left lying on the coffee table and returns to your side, brushing your hair and trilling a somewhat melancholic tune.

You try to study her as much as possible but she doesn't appear to listen to you and keeps floating around, picking up random things and throwing them around in the air when they're not interesting to her.

When you are left to pick them back up and put them into their respective places, she puts her little paws to her mouth and giggles. Quite the prankster, this one. You determine she has an impish personality and she has taken a liking to the hairbrush, holding it tightly to herself.

When it’s six am, the ghost Pokemon are exhausted and you emit a loud yawn and stop studying them though the entire session has aroused more questions than answers. It’s time to retire and you're exhausted; you quietly head up the stairs and into the room.

Sonia dozes in her bed, lying on her side with her back to you. You slide into your bed noiselessly, wrapping your thick, cosy covers around you and close your eyes.

You drift off to sleep until a rough shake on your arm forces you to wake and you open your eyes groggily to see Sonia standing by your bed.

“…Huh? What…what is it, Sonnie…?” you croak out, rubbing your eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up so early but you have a new client…” Sonia mutters and you check the clock.

It’s ten in the morning…and you groan out loud and slap your hand over your eyes tiredly.

“They really want to talk to you," she adds, "They really, really want to talk to you.”

You can hear the emphasis so you nod.

“………….Alright, fine,” you mumble as you get up from bed and grab your black dressing gown from the chair and drape it over yourself, half-awake. You only managed roughly four hours of sleep…

Sonia watches as you tiredly trudge downstairs, barely awake, and the light hurts causing you to hiss and wince as you blindly make your way through the lounge. You head to the direction of the conservatory where you peek through the gaps of your fingers to see a couple seated on one of the sofas. They look relieved to see you despite your frumpy and drowsy appearance.

Lethargy has taken over; once your eyes has adjusted to the light, you stop wincing and plop yourself in the empty sofa as the couple nervously fidget, balancing a white plastic bag in arms.

You're finding it really hard to stay awake.

“Thanks for seeing us,” says the man, and you’re assuming it’s the husband.

You nod wearily, crossing your arms as you nod off.

“No problem..." your voice is sluggish as you fight to stay awake whilst emitting a huge yawn, “How....how can I help…?”

You are so tired you can only catch snippets of what they're saying as you yawn once more.

"We live in Turrfield,”

"Our daughter turned eight."

"We got her a gift for her birthday."

Your eyelids are drooping no matter what. "...Okay…Zzz…”

"This doll."

"...Mm….hmm…yep…what about it…”

"...Makes strange noises......moves on it’s own…."

Your eyes jerk open.

"What?!"

Looking up and around, you see that you are still in the conservatory but the couple are gone and you are alone. In an instant, you sit up as you look left and right. The room is empty.

"Where'd they go?" you squawk.

Sonia enters the conservatory and you throw your wide-eyed glance to her.

"They left an hour ago. You fell asleep," she says, walking round the sofa with a teapot and cup before she seats herself on the sofa opposite yours, crossing her legs.

"Oh," your eyes grow wide and you scrabble up to stand, "That's terrible. I should call them.”

"Relax, they said they left something for you." Sonia gestures to the corner where a white plastic bag sits against one of the potted plants, the straps tied tightly together.

You head over, picking up the bag and realizing that it is exceptionally light; untying it, you pull the straps apart and peer inside.

It's empty.

“….Hey Sonnie, where’s the doll?”

“What doll?”

“There should be a doll.”

“I didn’t see any doll.”

“That’s weird,” you mutter, rubbing your chin, “They came all the way here and forgot to bring the doll?”

Scratching your head, you shrug and decide to return upstairs with the white plastic bag. There is no doll inside so you’re not sure what’s going on. You will call the client later to inform them they must have forgotten it.

When you return to your room, you emit another long yawn, scratch the side of your hip and flop over your bed, snuggling into your pillow and burrowing yourself with the blanket once again; the moment you hit the bed and you close your eyes and begin snoring immediately.

You’re not sure how long you had slept when you feel the blanket slowly being pulled away from your body and you begin shivering.

“Nnmm…Yamper, cut it out…Stop…stop that…” you mumble under your breath.

The blanket continues shifting down your body until it slides off the bed and flops loudly onto the floor. The coldness forces you awake and you open your eyes, blinking groggily in the dark room.

“Huh?” you croak out as you push yourself off the mattress using the back of your elbows, looking around the empty bedroom before you spot the blanket lying crumpled at the foot of the bed.

You must have kicked it off in your sleep somehow… though you swear someone was pulling the blanket off you...

Crawling to the edge of your bed, you bend down and reach for it, grabbing the blanket and lifting it up and you do a doubletake when you see a strange shape lying on the floor underneath it.

Lifting the blanket up, you reveal a small, grey and dirty ragdoll with an enlarged head, two black buttons sewn on for eyes and a jagged line of black stitches that you assume is supposed to be the mouth. It has short black strands of thick yarn for hair and its limbs are round and stubby.

It can’t be Sonia’s for you believe it’s rather unsightly for her liking… and it’s certainly not yours, that’s for sure. You don’t think this could be a new chew toy of Yamper’s, either.

It’s most likely the doll your client mentioned.

“They got this for their daughter’s birthday?? It looks like a voodoo doll...” you say aloud before you can help yourself. Shrugging, you scoop it up and let it sit on your bedside table where it slumps against Sonia’s hairdryer, and you grab your duvet and wrap yourself up once more and roll over to sleep, closing your eyes.

The room falls silent.

You’re so exhausted, your body begins to relax. Your mind grows weary, a blanket of darkness consuming your thoughts until a cold grip seizes you by the ankle and drags you several inches from your spot.

You sit up at once, kicking the blanket off you and staring wide-eyed at the edge of your bed only to see the ragdoll sitting near your left foot with its head flopping backwards.

“What the….”

As you gawk, the doll begins to twitch aggressively before its head flips forward and into its normal position, and your eyes grow wide.

“Haunted doll!!!” you yell, and Gengar manifests from your shadow on the wall. You point hurriedly at the doll, “Gengar, attack!”

Gengar obliges and immediately fires a beam of purple energy at it, blasting it off the bed and burning a small section of your mattress in progress. The ragdoll flies into the air before it lands on the ground with a thump.

It doesn’t move and you and Gengar glance at each other warily before you quickly tiptoe forwards, seize the white plastic bag, grab the doll by the scruff of it's back and dump it inside. It begins to thrash and you tie the bag in a tight knot, then hastily murmur a quick chant to immobilize it. Rushing to your desk, you open one of the drawers and find a scrap of scritta paper, grab a red marker and draw a symbol on it before you stick it on the bag. That should do it.

The entity sealed inside the bag struggles and flails and you glance at Gengar with a wince. “Well, that’s a first,” you say, lifting the bag up and giving it a shake.

It continues wriggling violently, accompanied with a sound akin to the noise of teeth grinding. "Kccchhhkhhhkk...."

“Yeesh, it’s like a tiny terror, right Gengar?” you mutter as the sound sends various shivers down your spine, and Gengar nods.

You throw a glance to the clock; it’s now one in the afternoon. You need to get ready for the dinner which means unfortunately, you will need to deal with the doll later. However, you're still sleepy so with the doll subdued, you fall back into bed, fast asleep.

At five pm, you awake from the beeping of your alarm and unfortunately you're still tired from being woken up so many times during the day but you force yourself to get up so you can utilise the additional two hours to get ready. You get dressed in the outfit Sonia had sussed out for you and before you leave the house, you grab the bag with the Wooloo plush that’s meant for Hop.

The Wooloo doll and the haunted doll have been placed in similar white bags but you made it a point to keep them separated and also, you put the talisman on the haunted doll bag so you pick up the bag that has no talisman and open it for a thorough doublecheck.

Indeed, the Wooloo doll is inside.

You put the bag back down and continue getting ready, rushing around your room to grab some accessories and a spare hair tie just in case. Once you’re done, you grab your pouch and the Wooloo bag and leave the room.

“Sonia, professor, I’m heading out now!” you exclaim as you head downstairs..

“Have fun at Leon’s, dear,” Magnolia says; she’s in the kitchen washing the dishes whilst Sonia lounges with Yamper in the living room, watching a chatshow.

“Tell Leon I said hi,” she says.

“Okay,” you settle the Wooloo bag on the floor and head to the cupboard under the stairs to grab the sandals Sonia prepared for you and return to the front door, slipping them on.

When you leave, Sonia gets up and off the couch a few minutes later with her empty mug to get some water. However, she spots something lying on its side, hidden behind the umbrella stand.

It's a Wooloo plushie.

…

You make your way down the path of Wedgehurst to Postwick. Sonia’s picked out a white summer dress which she thinks is perfect for the weather.

Whilst you’re far more inclined towards the colour black or anything that would cover up the most skin, this dress seems to reveal a lot of leg and chest than you had wanted. She’s picked a pair of matching nude sandals and a little beige pouch to complete the look, and she’s also helped with your hair and makeup; she has brushed your hair neatly and applied minimal makeup for a more natural look.

You can't help but wonder what Leon will think of you.

The path to Postwick is linear albeit covered with tall grass which you avoid at all costs and very soon, Postwick looms into view; it’s a tiny farming town with a small population. It’s pleasant and dainty with cottages straight from fairytale picture books, with thatched roofs and walls covered in ivy. One wouldn’t have thought the Champion of Galar would have roots from this modest settlement.

Leon’s house is not hard to miss. As he pointed out, it’s the biggest house and you pass the trimmed hedges and stone walls, pass the mini battle court and the garage. There’s a large barbecue grill and an outdoor table which is where the dinner will possibly take place. Leon wasn’t kidding. His house could be mistaken for a mansion...

You arrive at the front door and press the doorbell, then take a step back and wait on the doorstep whilst smoothing your dress down and tidying your hair, inwardly rehearsing some lines in your head. “Hello, Mrs Leon’s mum. I am a Pokemon Researcher. How do you do? Wait, let’s try that one again: How do you do? Oh, how splendid. Me? I’m well, thank you very much. Thank you for inviting me for dinner….”

When the door opens, you stop practising and look up to see the same woman from the hospital standing before you and she smiles widely.

“Oh! You must be…” she says your name and you nod. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“It’s lovely to meet you too.”

“Come in, come in!” she exclaims happily as you shake hands, and she opens the door wide for you and ushers you inside the house, “Leon, your friend is here!”

You hear footsteps from upstairs; Leon arrives at the top of the stairs and hurries down, looking rather flustered. He’s also dressed very casual, barefoot and donned in a pair of black joggers, a thick and woolly, white sweater and shirt.

When he sees you at the door however, he freezes on the last step as he gets an eyeful.

“Hi Leon.” You wave at him as you stand on their furry ‘home sweet home’ mat.

“H-hi,” he utters. His face grows pink as he looks at you from head to toe, jaw going slack. His reaction does not go unnoticed; his mum giggles as she heads over to his direction and plants a hand on his shoulder, steering him towards your direction until he’s directly in front of you and you look up and he looks at you and your gazes meet.

Following that, you hear another set of rapid footsteps bumbling down the stairs and it’s the little boy from the hospital clutching a Charizard figurine in hand. With a Wooloo rolling down the stairs after him, he leaps off the last step and lands in front of you, looking up at you with a big grin whilst Wooloo takes a baby leap off the step and trots over.

Leon’s little brother grins widely at you and says, “Hi there, Lee told me all about you! I’m his little brother, Hop.”

“I know, he told me about you as well,” you say with a smile as he looks up at Leon, who grins and playfully loops an arm around the back of his neck and Hop begins to laugh as Leon proceeds to playfully drive his clenched knuckle over his head.

“And he’s my biggest fan too,” Leon adds.

“Leon told me you like Wooloo so I brought you something,” you hand him the white bag, and he blinks as he accepts it.

“…For me?”

“Of course.”

“Oh wow! Thanks, mate!” he exclaims, “Lee was right, you’re pretty and kind!”

Your eyes bulge as you gape at Leon who begins spluttering at once. Leon’s mum and Hop exchange glances before they grin at your interaction.

“Hip-Hop, would you like to help me get the barbecue sorted out?” Leon’s mum coos before Hop can open his gift.

You chuckle under your breath. Hip-Hop….how adorable…

Hop looks at the bag briefly then nods, “Okay, mum, let me put this in my room first," he says, before he rushes up the stairs with your gift.

“I’ll send the Hopster to get you when everything’s ready,” Leon’s mum says to you with a wink, and when Hop returns downstairs, they make a speedy exit towards the direction of the kitchen.

It’s just you and Leon.

“So uh…where can I put my shoes?” you ask, and Leon finally tears his eyes away from you to throw his glance to your feet.

“Oh, here is fine,” he gestures to the side of the door where a bunch of shoes are lined up on the floor over a mat and you slip out of the sandals and carefully place them beside Leon’s champion boots. “You look lovely.”

And your cheeks grow pink in response. “Thanks,” you offer him a smile, gingerly placing your hands behind your back, “You have a very nice house.”

He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck at your compliment. “Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour,” he says with a grin, and he leads you into the living room where an elderly man sits on an armchair with a Purrloin who is fast asleep in his lap.

Leon enthusiastically introduces you to his grandfather who looks up from the snoozing pokemon and greets you politely and you do the same; he asks you briefly about your work before he’s conveniently called to the kitchen by Leon’s mum.

You’re alone with Leon once more as grandpa settles the snoozing Purrloin over the sofa and slowly shuffles to the kitchen. Leon tosses his glance to you as you take the time to look around his large and spacious lounge, spotting the numerous trophies displayed on the mantelpiece. There is also a portrait of Leon in his champion attire beside a framed medal on the wall.

“Where are these from?” you ask as he joins your side, “This one looks interesting.”

He looks sheepish, cheeks reddening as you step towards the fireplace and peer at the engraved words on one of the trophies. “I won that at the World Coronation Series."

“That’s really impressive.”

Your words only serves to make him blush harder and Leon blurts out, “Do you want to go to my room?”

There is a brief silence until Leon’s face grows even redder than ever before and he begins spluttering incoherently.

You guess he doesn't invite girls to his room often but you say, "Sure."

Leon stops stuttering and his eyes widens a brief fraction at your response. Nodding limply, he leads you out of the lounge, heading up the stairs. Along the way, you pass his grandmother; she greets you politely and after a brief introduction, decides to head downstairs to leave the both of you alone.

Leon’s house is huge with several winding corridors and turns, and you can’t help but wonder if his poor sense of direction started with this but you see there are signs stuck to the wall that will help him find his own room and when the signs run out, he has arrived at a random door, opening it.

He lets you go in first and this would be the first time you’ve stepped foot into a boy’s room - and the Champion’s room, nonetheless. You’re stunned that his room is quite plain and the interior decor are Autumn-inspired, with the reddish floor and the tawny shade of his walls and curtains.

There’s his bed, a desk, a bookshelf lined with boxes and a workout station in one corner though they don't appear to have been used much. You also spot a colourful collection of snapbacks on display, neatly lined up side by side on several shelves. You count them all and the total goes over thirty.

As you look around his room, Leon watches you as though he is waiting for your reaction. You head over to his desk where you see a desktop calendar with random dates circled and notes, and Leon makes his way up to you when you scrutinise it.

“That’s my schedule,” he says, as he scoops it up and hands it to you for a closer look.

“You’re booked out for the entire year,” you utter in awe as you flip through the pages and he nods.

Once again, you are subtly reminded of who exactly you're dealing with here. You're talking to Leon, the Champion of Galar. Not only that, but he has invited you for dinner. The gravity of it all makes you almost faint. Leon is...a celebrity.

You go through the dates and what the events are. "Rose of the Rondelands Charity Gala Ball, Paediatric Visit, Soda Pop photoshoot, Soup Kitchen for the homeless…Miss Galar Beauty Pageant??”

Leon crosses his arms over his chest, nodding, “Yeah, I’m supposed to make a brief speech.”

You raise a brow at the thought of Leon being surrounded by smiling, beautiful girls in swimsuits. You didn’t realise his duties as Champion would extend to the Miss Galar Beauty Pageant too...

“I see,” is your reply, before you catch glimpse of his 'Official Fanmeet and Signing'. It's then you recall you have his poster and wonder if it would be possible to sign up...

"This is for you," Leon fishes out a flimsy small envelope from one of the drawers of his desk and hands it to you, "It's the ticket to my next match. Actually, it's an annual pass for Wyndon Stadium... so you can attend all my matches."

Your jaw drops. The Wyndon Stadium annual pass costs a five figure sum!! "You're kidding, right?"

"No, why would I be?"

He sounds a little puzzled and it occurs to you he took your words quite literally.

You accept the envelope with a wide grin and Leon's face grows red at the sight of your gratitude. "Thank you so much!!!" you gush at him.

"You're welcome," he says quietly.

And you put the envelope away safely and return the calendar over the desk. As you turn, your bag swings round and you accidentally knock a random snapback off. It’s a white cap with a black visor and the League’s symbol on it. It’s quite possibly an expensive collector’s item and you gasp.

You attempt to catch it before it drops to the floor, diving for it, and so does Leon, and suddenly he has grabbed your hands and you both completely miss the snapback, which lands on the floor.

The two of you simultaneously freeze at the same time.

His hands are so warm compared to yours, and you look at him and he looks at you before he quickly releases your hands. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you croak as your fingers tingle all over from the unwarranted contact and your heart begins to pound. You quickly pluck the cap off the ground and you both move to stand. “H-here’s your hat.”

“Thanks,” Leon cradles it to himself gently, “This one is vintage. In fact, my collection are all vintage, limited or special editions. This one commemorates the fiftieth Galar Pokemon League gym challenge,” he says with a smile and as he glances at the hat in his grip, he reaches over and fixes the cap over your head and proceeds to fasten the strap behind your head, tugging on it securely.

You go still once more, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

He is standing so close to you. He doesn’t need to be, but he is. You can feel his breath on your cheeks, his hands skimming over the side of your face gently. You swerve your eyes up to him and as he looks at you at the same time, you quickly avert your gaze and he takes a step back once the hat is fastened properly. “It suits you.”

“I’m just missing your cape,” you blurt out.

“You’re right. Wait a second, I’ll go get it,” Leon replies and he heads to his wardrobe, opening it and pulling out the thick, red champion cape from within.

“Uh…” you pale slightly when you realise Leon had taken your words seriously again. With cape in hands, he proceeds to step behind you and carefully position it over your shoulders and tie it around you, and you realise there are also two unnoticeable clips on it that attaches itself onto the shoulders to prevent it from falling off.

“There we go. All done.” Leon says, and you’re astounded he’s letting you try it on.

“Oh, I…I feel weird,” you croak out as you attempt to twist your body left and right to see the cape; Leon is taller than you, so unfortunately the cape brushes against the floor and you attempt to bundle it up.

The beautiful fur that lines the cloak tickles your chin and the sides of your face and ears. Furthermore, you accidentally catch a heavy whiff of Leon’s scent all over and you blush.

Leon takes another step forwards and begins slipping his fingers underneath the cap and brushes some hair from the side of your face, tucking it behind your ear. He replaces the cap over your head once more and smiles. “You look really pretty today,” he murmurs.

“Um…..thanks.” you can’t help but blush furiously; he’s said it twice now. As you glance down at yourself, you grab a section of the cape and lift it up, hiding the lower half of your face with it. Leon laughs in response as you quirk a brow at him. “How do I look?”

“Not bad!”

“I could get used to this,” you say, “No wonder you wear it all the time.”

Next, you use your other hand to grab the other side of the cloak and lift your arms up in the air, the cape rising and Leon chuckles as you parade around the room.

“I should take this off now,” you say before you get carried away as usual.

“How did it feel to be Champion of Galar for five minutes?”

“Pretty good but the cloak is heavy," you reply, as you take a few steps and the cloak’s weight makes your shoulders feel hefty.

He grins and helps you remove the cloak, it brushes against the floor once more and as you hop backwards, you accidentally step on one corner just as he lifts it up and your eyes grow wide as the ground beneath you disappears; you lose your footing and begin to slip.

However, Leon’s quick to catch you by wrapping a thick and sturdy arm around your back but it doesn’t stop you from falling and he doesn’t abandon the cape; you fall flat on your back with a grunt and Leon topples over you, the cape spooling over him.

His weight causes your eyes to bulge and a few strands of his long hair catches in your mouth which makes you splutter. Muttering a long string of apologies, Leon scrabbles to get off you and the heel of his hand accidentally presses hard against your breast and his jaw drops in horror.

Before either of you can move, Hop suddenly pokes his head into room.

“The barbecue’s-“

Hop pauses, eyes widening at the sight of you lying on the ground with Leon on top and the cape covering your lower bodies and most importantly, his hand on your breast. Hop blurts out an apology for disturbing you but not before spinning on his heel in a one hundred and eighty degree turn and he rushes away, stampeding down the corridor.

“Hop!” You and Leon yell at the same time, before you gape at one another.

Next, you throw your gaze to where Leon is touching you and finally he lifts his hand off your chest, lifting himself off you in general and as he sits up, his hand is trembling, his face a thousand shades of red. He collects his cape into his arms and bundles it up.

“Arceus, what a mess!” he groans before he turns to you, “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Leon…” you croak out as he sticks his hand out; you accept his hand and he lifts you off the ground so you can sit up. One of the straps of your dress – and your bra – decides to fall off your shoulder and Leon accidentally catches a glimpse of your exposed shoulder and your bra strap and he looks away to bury his face into the soft material of his cape.

“Sorry.” Is his muffled apology.

“It’s fine,” you wave your hand dismissively before you pull the straps over your shoulder and into the proper positions. “It was an accident. Is Hop gonna be okay though?”

Leon lowers the cape, then nods. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle this. Let’s go find him.”

You agree with a nod and you both get up to stand; Leon carefully hangs his cape in his closet and you both leave his room. Following the directions on the wall, you both make your way to the stairs and as you pass a random door, it is open and it’s then you see that Hop is inside, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Hop?” Leon says, and he looks up.

He has the white bag in his lap and when he sees you and Leon, his face visibly goes red. “I-I didn’t see anything!!!”

“It’s fine, Hop, it was just an accident,” you say as you step into his room. “I fell after slipping on your brother’s cloak and he tried to help me, but unfortunately he ended up falling on top of me too and his hand-”

Hop’s eyes grows to the size of saucers.

“Um…” Leon steps in before you can finish, “Maybe I should…”

“Oh right, yes, please do…”

Leon moves to sit down beside his little brother, sitting cross-legged over the carpet and places a hand on his shoulder. “Hop.”

“Yeah, Lee?”

Leon takes a deep breath then says, “I know it’s not yet time for you to have that talk with mum about the Pidgeys and the Beedrills, but I wanted to let you know that what you saw in the room, I wasn’t the Beedrill and she wasn’t the Pidgey. It was just an accident.”

Leon goes on and on and you’re left standing, wondering what he is on about.

“Hey Lee?”

“Yes, Hop?”

“I get it.”

“Oh, you do? That’s good.” Leon pats Hop on the shoulder; the younger brother grins at Leon, then turns to you with a somewhat sly grin.

“Whatever you say, Lee,” Hop adds, grin broadening, and you don’t think Hop is as innocent as he seems. “Can I open my gift now?” he adds excitedly.

“Sure, go ahead,” Leon replies with a smile.

Hop proceeds to open the bag with an ecstatic whoop of glee and unties your bag, sticking his hand in and once he’s grabbed the doll, he pulls it out. There is a silence when he lifts it up in the air.

It’s the ragdoll.

“What the-?!?” you squawk, whilst Hop and Leon blink blankly at the hideous toy, before they turn to you questioningly. “Arceus, I’m so sorry…Hop, there was meant to be a Wooloo plush but-"

When the ragdoll squirms under Hop’s grip, he drops it in alarm.

“I-it just moved by itself!!” Hop exclaims and the two brothers are quick to jump onto their feet with Leon immediately ushering his little brother behind him.

Before anyone can make a move or speak, the doll twitches fiercely on the floor of the bedroom and you, Hop and Leon exchange wide-eyed looks before the doll twitches on the spot, its stuffed body convulsing rigorously and finally, the ragdoll inches off the ground and sits up.

“Mi…..me….me kill you….” A distorted voice emits from within.

Hop yelps with panic and you immediately call for Gengar whilst Leon steers his brother away from the doll as far as possible.

When Gengar manifests from the corner of the room, he spots the doll and you command, “Dark Pulse!”

Gengar aims a beam of dark energy at it and the attack smacks into the doll; it soars into the air once again and one of its stitches comes loose on the little doll’s face as it flops to the floor.

“Kkkccchhhkkk….” the noise akin to nails scratching on a chalkboard returns and the doll struggles to sit up as one of its button eyes pop off, its head flopping to one side limply, revealing a pair of glowing dots underneath the worn out fabric. “Kcchkkkk….!”

“Look out!” Leon yells, as the doll's head snaps back onto its normal position and a shadowy appendage bursts out from the gap between the torn stitches, aimed at your direction.

You gasp but Gengar jumps in front of you and the claw slams into his body. Gengar goes reeling from the impact and finally, Charizard comes bumbling into the room.

“Charizard, ember!” Leon is quick to instruct, pointing at the doll of terror.

Two long shadowy claws have emerged from the ragdoll's body, rising high in the air as it takes tiny steps one foot at a time towards your group, and Charizard stares at the minuscule adversary in confusion for a split second or so before he coughs out a weak ball of fire the size of a golfball from the back of his throat which immediately catches onto the doll’s yarn hair.

The doll stops at once, the two glowing dots blinking numbly.

“Mi??” a voice from within squeaks, before it senses the flames on it's yarn hair and leaps an inch into the air with fright. “Mi mi!!!”

The doll begins running around frantically in the room, its hair on fire.

“Mi!! Mi mi mi mikyuu!!”

You and Leon gawk at each other whilst Hop blinks wide-eyed at the spectacle, before everyone bursts into laughter.

As the doll runs around the bedroom helplessly, you walk over and begin stamping on its head with your foot to clear the flames and you hear the doll squealing and squeaking in agony until the fire goes out and it flops over the floor, it’s hair fizzing with smoke.

You’re amazed the fire alarm hasn’t been triggered and when you and Leon look at each other again, you let out a chortle under your breath.

“Go ahead.” Leon says, crossing his arms and you pull out an empty Dusk ball from your pouch, tossing it at the pokemon and it is sucked inside. The capsule shakes a few times before the light goes off, indicating its capture.

You pick up the black and green coloured capsule and sigh whilst Leon checks if Hop is okay. “Sorry, Leon. Sorry, Hop.”

“What do you mean??!!!” Hop exclaims with a wide grin, clenching his fists tightly, “That was soooo awesome!”

You raise a brow until you hear Leon's mum downstairs, informing everyone that the barbecue is ready. Leon gives you a wide smile as Hop makes a beeline out of his room.

"C'mon, let's race! Last one down is a rotten Exeggcute!"

Leon turns to you and grins, "Let's go," he says, motioning for you to follow and you nod, trailing after him into the corridor.

#leon #dande #leon x reader #Leon x you #fanfic #fic #jeralee #archive of our own #comfort in despair #reader #reader insert #pkmn #pokemon #pokemonshield #pokemonsword #pokemon shield and sword

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Victor’s Belonging Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 归属之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

This date makes important references to his birthday R&S, so do read that first!

Victor’s 2021 birthday collection:

🐼 r&s l belonging date ♡ l video call l moments and texts l asmr

[ Released in CN on 8 Jan 2021 ]

Early in the morning on the weekend, I push a cardboard box into Victor’s living room, straightening up and heaving a sigh.

MC: I seem to have prepared too many ribbons... I'll just blow fewer balloons.

Scanning the slightly empty and spacious room, I retrieve decorations from within the cardboard box.

Victor has been busy with business trips recently. Even though I know he’d return on his birthday, I still feel a little uneasy.

In order to avert the abrupt circumstances like last year, I called him in advance to tell him about my “action plan”.

He seems to have gotten used to the festive rituals I insist upon, and has agreed to let me decorate his home.

Just as I plan to straighten up the cushions on the sofa, the doorbell suddenly rings.

MC: Who is it?

??: Hello, there’s a package for Mr Victor.

I open the door, and the deliveryman hands over a cardboard box. The logo of Loveland City’s zoo is printed on it.

MC: This is...

Deliveryman: It was sent late, I’m really sorry about it! There’s been some issues at the transfer point. It should have been sent to you at the start of the year.

A little puzzled, I nod and take the box. This seems to be the first time I’m seeing a package from the zoo.

After signing for the package, I take a picture of the box and send it to Victor.

Not long after, the phone buzzes.

Victor: Leave the box at the entrance. I’ll handle it after I’m back.

MC: Sure, but why would the zoo send you a delivery?

Victor: I adopted a panda, so the zoo sends some merchandise every year.

MC: So they actually send such things... zoo merchandise is always in limited supply, and I’ve had to rely on snatching them up whenever I visit.

Perhaps hearing the envy in my tone, Victor chuckles softly.

Victor: In that case, you can open it up and look if there’s anything you haven’t snatched up.

MC: Can I? I’ll open it on your behalf then!

With a few movements, I open the cardboard box. All sorts of animal plush toys are stored inside, with panda-related items featuring most often.

My line of sight roams the box, and I notice a small album.

There are pictures of one big and one small panda in the album. It records their everyday lives - eating bamboo, climbing trees, rolling around... it’s like a diary.

MC: Victor, there’s an album here too. There are two pandas in it. Which one did you adopt?

Victor: Both of them.

MC: You adopted two?

Victor: Mm, the big one was the one I mentioned to you before. The small one is its child.

Digesting this information, I mutter softly.

MC: I wonder who mentioned not having feelings towards animals...

Victor: Animals no, people yes. Providing help to endangered animals is a very normal thing.

MC: Only providing help?

Victor: ...what else?

MC: Nothing, I just think CEO Victor is really considerate to specially provide help to a father-son duo~

There’s a temporary silence at the other end of the line. I can almost picture Victor’s speechless expression at this moment.

Victor: Say it, what kind of wicked plan have you come up with this time?

MC: It’s a serious idea! Victor, let’s find a time to visit them? I also wish to meet these two “investees” who have caught your eye.

Victor: You’re truly giving yourself more and more excuses to go out to play.

MC: I can’t?

Victor: ...forget it, we’ll go together if you want to see them.

After ending the call, I retrieve a few panda plush toys from the box, display them on the sofa, then straighten the seats. Finally, I nod in satisfaction.

As compared to vibrantly coloured decorations, Victor should prefer these adorable plush toys.

A few more pages are torn from the calendar, and it’s finally Victor’s birthday.

I checked the information of his flight beforehand. Since it’s not yet time for the plane to land, I prepare to send my report to him first.

The sound of my phone vibrating enters my ears. Seeing the familiar name flashing on the screen, I pick up the call in slight confusion.

MC: Victor? You’ve already reached?

Victor: I just reached. Slightly earlier than expected.

MC: This means I'm the first person to receive your call~ I’ll just say it first - I’ve already prepared my report, and just have to tap the send button.

Victor: Looks like you have a lot of confidence in this report. Since you're done with work, head out with me in the afternoon.

I freeze for a moment. This year, Victor’s birthday happens to be on a working day. I originally planned to celebrate with him in the evening after work.

I didn’t expect that Victor, who has always been serious about work, would think of having a day of rest. I can’t help but tease him.

MC: Is CEO Victor skipping work?

Victor: I’m giving you a break too. A certain someone has been rushing work for so many days, and I’m letting you rest for a while.

My heart stirs, and I seem to understand something.

MC: Seems like I'm not the only person looking forward to today?

After a moment of silence on the other end of the line, his voice sounds, carrying with it a smile.

Victor: I shouldn’t be the only one wanting to meet earlier either. I’ll get my luggage, and will see you in around two hours.

At the agreed time, Victor’s car appears punctually at the bottom of the office building.

I jog and get into the car. He sits on the driver’s seat quietly, his coat half open, revealing a somewhat familiar grey coloured shirt.

There seems to be some tiny creases at his collar that haven’t been ironed smoothly, but the angle at which the collar encases his neck looks very suitable.

Perhaps due to the rays of light falling on his shoulders, or perhaps due to the warm wind blowing in the car, the image before me feels especially warm despite it being winter.

I pull on his arm to take a look, then nod in satisfaction.

MC: Who picked this shirt? It feels as though it makes CEO Victor look especially dashing!

Victor looks at me, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

Victor: Blowing your own trumpet.

MC: You wore it yourself. Doesn’t this prove that the choice of gift was a success?

Victor: I wonder who splayed it on the middle of the bed, only missing a note saying “Wear this today”.

MC: So do you like it or not?

Victor: Passable.

I purse my lips, pulling aside my own coat. Deliberately straightening up, I beckon him to look at the matching shirt I’m wearing.

MC: Cough cough. Is it really just “passable”?

Victor seems to be taken aback for a moment. Then, a smile quickly softens his expression.

Victor: The car isn’t warm yet. Don’t rush to remove your coat.

He reaches out to pull up the zipper. With a pause, he pulls it down slightly, stopping at the chest region.

I follow his gaze and lower my head to take a look. Like this, it just happens to reveal my shirt.

Glancing at our similar colours, I can’t help but laugh secretly in my heart.

Victor: In general, there’s an improvement in taste. A little better than what I expected.

MC: Thank you for your praise, CEO Victor. In that case, should I maintain this standard in the future?

Victor: You can. All right, let’s go. Fasten your safety belt.

MC: Where are we going?

Victor: Didn’t you want to see the pandas? There will be fewer visitors in the zoo on a working day.

While Victor speaks, he starts the car, inputting the destination into the navigation system.

MC: We’re going right now? But today... I thought you’d prefer a quieter birthday.

Victor: By “quieter”, do you mean by displaying a huge bunch of plush toys at home?

MC: They’re so cute, so I accidentally...

I grin while meeting his look of distaste, and something occurs to me.

MC: But if we're going there today, I could get to know your panda friends by matching them against the photographs.

Seeing me take out the photo album from my bag and giving it a flip, Victor raises his brows in slight shock.

Victor: You even brought their photographs around?

MC: I was originally going to make you a mini photo wall, but couldn’t finish it in time. I planned to bring you the photographs in the evening, so I put them in my bag. Come to think of it, I don’t know what names you gave them.

[Note] This is a contradiction?? Because MC clearly mentioned Little Vick in a pretty old Moment post...

Victor: I didn’t give them names.

MC: Why not?

Victor: I only paid the adoption fees. The rest depends entirely on the zoo staff’s care, so there’s no need to leave them with anything.

MC: But if they don’t have names, how would you recognise them later?

Victor: Do you rely on names to recognise people?

MC: Oo... It’s mainly the face I guess.

Victor: Animals are the same. If you observe their unique traits, you’ll naturally be able to identify them.

The afternoon sunlight is somewhat glaring. I lift my head to avoid the light, and look at Victor in the rearview mirror.

He has a serious expression, but for some reason, I think of a particular fine and sunny weekend we once had, when the light also encased us like this.

At that time, the person beside me had used an ink-less brush, secretly leaving a mark related to him on me.

The car pauses at the crossing, waiting for the red light. Victor straightens the visor for me, turning his head to meet my gaze.

Victor: Why are you staring at me?

MC: I suddenly thought about how someone doesn’t name pandas, yet would write his own name on my face. Doesn’t this mean I’m important to him?

Victor: Good that you know it.

The red light flickers. Victor averts his gaze, staring at the front. Suddenly, he laughs.

Victor: But from what I see now, I’ve already been influenced by a dummy.

The visor shields me from the glaring sunlight, and also makes my vision clearer.

Whether it’s the matching shirt or the Shiba Inu keychain swinging on the car keys...

These seemingly trivial, ordinary and small details clearly reflect the traces that I’ve left on him.

Even though it’s a working day, there are still quite a number of people visiting the pandas in the zoo.

Following the crowd, we take a slow stroll. Many children run past us happily.

Right after walking to the panda area, I see many people congregated at the railings and observing.

Pulling Victor over, rounded panda “dumplings” immediately attract my full attention.

A few young pandas are currently climbing and having fun on wooden poles. Occasionally, they’d bump into each other and roll onto the ground. After exerting energy to flip over, they’d once again climb to the location of their choice.

As if intoxicated and stupefied, I stare at them for a very long time before remembering that the panda baby Victor had adopted could be in their midst. Hurriedly, I take out the photographs from my bag to make comparisons.

However, the pandas before me seem to be carved from the same mold. The colour of their fur are the same, and they are similar in size. There seems to be too much to take in.

I turn my head to look at Victor, who’s next to me. He seems to guess what I’m thinking, and speaks straight away.

Victor: You haven’t identified it?

MC: It’s a little difficult.

Victor points at a panda which is currently climbing a wooden pole.

Victor: That one.

MC: How can you be so certain?

Victor: It injured its leg a few months ago. During the treatment, there was a need to trim the fur around the injury. Look at its hind leg - some of its fur is newly grown.

Fixing my eyes on it, the back of the panda’s right hind leg has a small tuft of relatively shorter fur. Without a careful look, one would think it’s a normal dip.

Flipping and looking through the photos, I realise that it’s actually the case.

Just as I’m about to awe at how Victor is truly perceptive to the finest detail, I suddenly realise something.

MC: Wait, you mentioned that it’s been a few months... Have you always been keeping watch on them?

Victor: The staff will regularly provide feedback on their situation.

MC: So your e-mail isn’t filled only with reports from employees.

Victor: My life doesn’t just consist of work.

He doesn’t respond to my teasing gaze, and he continues looking at the pandas playing freely and leisurely in the garden.

Victor: Are you here to look at the pandas or me?

I respond without giving it much thought.

MC: Both!

Victor: ...

Victor shakes his head in resignation, pulling on my hand as we weave through the crowd.

Victor: There are too many people here. Let’s walk forward.

We walk and pause, following the park’s signboards. Gradually, a patch of empty land appears in my view.

A staff member is currently stacking bamboo next to tree trunks and wooden poles, as though waiting for the pandas to feast.

I tug on Victor to stop. After staying in place for a while, I see a big panda pacing over slowly.

It doesn’t seem to care about how many people are watching it. It heads towards the food, picking a comfortable position to sit down.

Flipping to the photograph of the Daddy Panda eating bamboo, I lift it up to compare it with the panda in front of me.

MC: Victor, isn’t this the panda Uncle gave to you? Its posture of leaning against the tree trunk is exactly the same as in the photo!

Victor leans down and looks over, nodding lightly.

Victor: Yes.

MC: Really? We’re so lucky to meet both of them.

Just as Victor is about to say something, the voice of a small boy suddenly drifts towards us.

Small boy: Little... Vick. Its name is Little Vick!

I’m stunned for a moment, turning my head to find the source of the voice. A small boy is being carried in the arms of his parents, reading out the name based on a nearby board.

Information regarding the pandas on duty are written on the board. Its name is found at the very top, and it’s a name I couldn’t be more familiar with.

[Note] The reason why MC finds it familiar is clearer in Chinese. Victor’s name is 李泽言 (Li Ze Yan), and the panda’s Chinese name is 言言 (Yan Yan)

Because he read the correct words, the small boy is complimented by his parents. He continues reading.

Small boy: Its a boy... and its birthday is 13 January! It’s Little Vick’s birthday today!

Turning back to look at Victor, he currently has an uncomfortable expression on his face, and he clears his throat softly.

Victor: ...my dad named it.

MC: And it happens to have the same birthday?

Victor: Mm.

I try to suppress my laughter, lowering my voice and calling out to Little Vick a few times while it’s engrossed in bamboo.

MC: Little Vick-- We’re here to see you--

Victor: [sighs] ...

MC: Little Vick-- Wishing you a happy birthday--

Victor: Childish.

Victor pretends to have a stern look his poker face, but I can still see the gradually reddening tips of his ears.

I laugh while standing in front of him, straightening my back under his reluctant gaze.

MC: On behalf of myself and Little Vick, we also wish Mr Victor a happy birthday. Don’t feel embarrassed. Your father used your name to name your favourite thing. It’s called “loving the house and its crows”.

[Note] MC uses an idiom, 爱屋及乌 ( “ai wu ji wu”), which literally translates to “love the house and the crows”. This conveys the depth of someone’s love to the point where you like everything related to that person.

Victor: Do you apply the same principle when you enthusiastically name all sorts of objects?

MC: I don’t just name everything. After all, I also “love the house and its crows”. For instance, I used to think that all pandas were very adorable... But right now, I think Little Vick is the cutest.

Only after saying all this in one breath do I feel slightly embarrassed. I hurriedly turn around, taking out my phone to take pictures of Little Vick, wanting to hide the heat on my face.

While snapping photos, I watch for Victor’s reaction. But even after a long time, there isn’t a sound from behind me, and I can’t help but turn around.

“Kacha.”

The golden, dazzling sunlight spreads from behind him, glinting brightly around his raised phone.

Before I can prepare my expression, I see Victor’s phone camera facing me.

He retracts his phone, smiling as he looks at the screen.

MC: [blushing] You... you snuck a photo of me!

Seeing that I’m reaching out to snatch his phone, Victor grabs my wrist, quickly keeping his phone in his pocket.

Victor: This is just a response to your words earlier.

MC: What does that mean?

Victor smiles, his deep eyes filled with my profile.

Victor: It means that there are many dummies in the world... But I only like the one in front of me.

Returning home from the zoo, VIctor’s sudden words repeatedly circle my mind.

In order for him not to realise my state of mind, I take out the ingredients I had prepared in advance the moment I reach home, preparing to burrow into the kitchen to cook.

Victor naturally walks to my side, wanting to take the bags in my hand. I frantically press down on his hand.

MC: Hold on, don’t help. I’ll do it myself!

Victor: There are so many things and you want to do it yourself?

MC: Don’t worry, I’ve practiced at home and can guarantee that I have a knowledge of the fundamentals, and won’t blow up your kitchen. Also, you’re the elderly person whose birthday is being celebrated. So you shouldn’t work. Oh yes, aside from this shirt, I’ve also hidden a few presents at home. Want to look for them?

[Note] MC REALLY USED THE WORD 寿星 ( “shou xing”) which could mean “God of Longevity” or “elderly person whose birthday is being celebrated” LOL

I say everything in one breath, not giving him a chance to retort.

Under my expectant gaze, Victor sighs in resignation, then says a few more words before leaving the kitchen.

With the fastest speed I can manage, I finish cooking. While bringing the dishes to the table, Victor places some gift boxes onto the sofa.

Victor: I’ve found three. That’s all, isn’t it?

MC: Not just these. You could look in other rooms.

Victor: [sighs] Looks like you really planned to prepare a hundred gifts.

MC: I didn’t do it on purpose. When I saw those things, I subconsciously thought of you. But right now, I should invite CEO Victor to test my culinary skills!

After the meal, Victor finds a few more gifts. After giving them a count, I realise there’s still one more missing.

Victor: Why are there more?

MC: The final gift is very critical. I’ll help you get it.

I head straight to Victor’s bedroom. Removing the blanket, I retrieve a long box from a crevice at the corner of the bed.

Victor has his arms crossed over his chest as he stands at the side, watching as I make a show of straightening the ribbon on the gift box.

MC: Don’t worry, there aren’t any weird presents this time. Before, I was always sending you things I liked, but those things weren’t what you liked. So this year, I want to give you some gifts that you need.

Opening the gift box, I take out the tie that I picked out, and display it from all angles.

MC: There aren’t pictures of happy faces, and it doesn’t have a strange colour. You can wear it to work!

Victor looks at me, then walks to the side of the bed and leans down.

Victor: Since a certain someone is doing her utmost to recommend it, I shall see how it looks.

MC: I’ll put it on for you!

It’s rare for Victor to be interested in my presents. I immediately climb up from the bed, flipping his collar up and fastening the tie.

This distance makes the side of his face close enough to touch. His warm breaths are on my shoulder, and I have to force myself to focus on the tie.

With much difficulty, I tie the tie into a basic shape. Victor’s low voice suddenly drifts to my ear.

Victor: This seems to be the first time I’m seeing you wear a proper shirt.

MC: It looks good, doesn’t it?

Victor doesn’t respond. He simply smiles, tidying the back of my collar.

Victor: It’s also the first time I’ve seen you cooking without being clumsy.

MC: Of course I needed to perform properly when cooking in your kitchen.

Victor: It’s also the first time we’re visiting the zoo on a day-off from work.

MC: It’s already the fourth year, and there are still so many firsts?

Victor: Is that a bad thing? Since they are all first times, you can create so-called surprises.

The words at my ear, bringing with them a smile, create ripples in my heart. My hands pause, and I lift my head to look at him.

MC: May I ask CEO Victor - does this mean you’re satisfied with today?

Victor: This isn’t about whether I’m satisfied.

Victor pulls down my hand which is holding onto the tie, beckoning me to sit down.

Just as I plan to scoot over to give him some space, I realise that he has seated down directly on the carpet next to the bed.

MC: Someone always reminds me that the floor is cold. So why is he still sitting on the floor?

Victor: The first time you came to my house, you seem to have said similar words.

While speaking, he tugs the blanket upwards before it slides down my shoulder.

Lowering my head to look at him, the “first time” he’s referring to surfaces in my mind.

The CEO who wilfully lay down on the floor to settle work, and also wilfully had a light sleep in the middle of the piano tune.

He lifts his head to look at me, his teasing gaze unconcealed and bright in the light. The tie, which hasn’t been fastened properly, hangs loosely on his neck.

Without even realising it, his relaxed appearance has become something I've grown used to.

Images in my memories and the person before me gradually match up. I can’t suppress the smile creeping onto my lips, but complain about him anyway.

MC: Victor, you’re really wilful sometimes.

Victor: I learnt it from someone.

MC: ...cough cough. Back to the earlier topic! Could the elderly birthday person please assess today’s plans, and let me gain some experience.

Victor: Everything about today, whether the itinerary or the gifts - I’m very happy with them. Not just today. Every year before this as well.

MC: If you put it that way, I can’t tell how to make it even better. After all, even though it’s been so long, you’ve never directly mentioned what you like.

Victor chuckles softly.

Victor: There’s no need to mention them. When it comes to these things, your efforts always surpass my expectations. Also, the feelings and time you expend - they are even more precious gifts than anything else.

A clamour of emotions ferment in my chest, and I finally peek my head out from the blanket.

MC: Am I one step closer to moving you to tears?

Victor: Judging from your skills in tying a tie, you’re still very far from it. But this is already very good.

As the curtain of night falls, the world outside the window gradually becomes quiet. The ticking of the clock’s secondhand at the bedside becomes clearer.

I glance at the time, and it’s already quite late.

MC: Today’s coming to an end. I’m a little reluctant to part with with it.

Victor: Reluctant to part with the off-day?

MC: Nope. I just feel as though you’ll get busy again after today... You won’t just be my Victor.

I mutter softly, but Victor still hears it. He curls his finger and taps my forehead.

Victor: Who says I'm not? From work to life, which part lacks a certain person’s shadow? Also, other than you, I've never belonged to anyone.

MC: Does this count as a return gift from an elderly man celebrating his birthday?

Victor: It’s just the truth.

I smile while tightening the blanket over myself, shuffling towards him quietly.

MC: But the opportunities to spend time with you without any worries like this are very limited. How do you want to spend the remainder of today?

Victor looks at me, then straightens up to sit with me at the side of the bed.

Victor: For the rest of the time, let’s just stay like this.

I subconsciously loosen my grip on the blanket. He takes the blanket, leans closer to me, and bundles me in it tightly.

The irritating sound of the secondhand suddenly vanishes. In the tranquil night, only the light in the eyes of the person next to me continues flowing and glinting.

Victor: Being without any worries like you wanted - it can be prolonged a little. Also, not just today. Anytime in the future - as long as you want it, it can be done.

🐼 Phone call: here

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#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #C R Y I N G #THEY ARE SO CUTE

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years

Text

A Thousand Beach Boys Songs

PART TWENTY-EIGHT OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: drinking, drugs (just marijuana), smoking, anxiety about future, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 6.8K (idk this just happened)

Summary: Jess and Ella visit California.

The sun was high and bright in the Philadelphia sky, beating down on the concrete of the city, when Ella finally awoke at half past nine to the sound of a siren outside. Early August had brought a heat wave to the East coast, and the hot air always rose to the top floor of Truncheon. They were sleeping only under a thin blanket, and Ella had found she had thrown it off herself at some point in the night. Or perhaps Jess had. He was a light sleeper, often had bad dreams, tossing and turning. But his side of the bed was empty, with a sticky note left on the pillow in his place. She furrowed her brows; it was Saturday, the beginning of her last two weeks before classes and office hours started, and she didn’t know of him having any plans. Stifling a yawn, she picked up the note and squinted at it in the harsh sunlight streaming through the window.

Morning Daria,

Went to get coffee. Be back soon. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.

-James Dean

In spite of the roll of her eyes, Ella snickered before rising out of bed. She pulled a mauve cotton dress over her head, tying her hair into a low bun. Padding on bare feet into the living room, she smiled as she noticed Chris was up, pouring himself some cereal at the tiled island. Matthew had stayed over at some woman’s house, though he wouldn’t tell them her name. Ella went to the corner of the living room and put a Joni Mitchell record on. Then, she hopped on a stool across from Chris.

“Where’s your boy toy?” Chris asked through a mouthful of cereal, his hair sticking up in all directions.

She snorted a laugh. “Getting coffee. He left me a note.”

“Adorable,” he deadpanned.

“Mm. Sickening, isn’t he?” Ella asked, mocking fondly.

Chris nodded, then tilted his head over in the direction of the record player. “Really? Joni Mitchell?”

“She’s a genius. Choose your next words carefully,” she warned.

“Isn’t she just a little...too sweet?” he asked.

Ella scoffed. “No one who likes disco as much as you do should be allowed to criticize a Renaissance woman like Joni Mitchell.”

“Disco is the best,” Chris said casually. “And Joni Mitchell is the worst.”

“Ugh, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” Ella groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I had this girlfriend last year who hated Joni Mitchell. It was, like, half the reason we broke up.”

Chris’s eyebrows shot up in an expression of surprise as a smile broke out on his face. “Girlfriend?”

She nodded. “You’re looking at your resident bisexual.”

“Yes! You’ve got to come to Pride with us in September! Jess and Matthew came last year, and they’re great, but, they’re also both so very straight,” he said, laughing slightly.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella allowed her own grin to appear. She’d never been to a pride parade before, though she had always wanted to. Eventually, Lane, Zach, and Bryan had figured out she was dating a woman for a couple months during her third year of college. And they’d taken it surprisingly well. Lane wasn’t completely sold on the idea, but Ella wasn’t shocked, given the strict Christian Kim upbringing. They didn’t kick her out, didn’t speak to her hatefully, only shrugged (with a few lingering, confused looks from Lane) and went about their day. And so they had been added to the list of four people in the whole world who knew about her sexuality, though she’d never actually told them her label. Jess was the only one who knew the details of who she was.

But Philly was different, she had to remind herself. Chris was openly gay, held hands with his boyfriend in public, even kissed him occasionally. There were some looks, but no remarks. No one made jokes at their expense. It was refreshing and liberating and, at times, almost made her feel like crying. And though she was dating a man, she was still just as bisexual. There was a part of her Stars Hollow would simply never have been able to swallow. Especially since Jess had been her boyfriend for so long, she knew some people in town wouldn’t have even believed it. They would have told her it was a phase, it would pass, or she would eventually be a lesbian. The only people in town she thought might be able to understand were Miss Patty or Lorelai, though she had never gotten the courage to tell them.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” she replied, trying to ignore the sting in her eyes. She blinked back the wetness, tucking her hair behind her ears.

Over the speakers, Joni Mitchell crooned a long, lilting high note, making Ella giggle as Chris uttered a grunt of dissatisfaction.

“She really broke you two up?” Chris asked, beginning to sip the sweetened, sugary milk from his bowl.

Ella shrugged. “Partially. Her name was Angie and she was this badass singer. But we just didn’t click. Music tastes were only a small part of the equation. She was a little too jealous and I was a little too hung up.”

“Hung up?”

“On Jess,” she said shortly, thinking back to the last morning she’d spent in Angie’s apartment. When Angie had accused Ella of having lingering eyes for the men at her concert the night before. And Ella hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way Jess had never cared she liked both men and women. Had never bought into the stereotype of bisexual promiscuity.

Putting his bowl in the sink, Chris shot her a smirk. “And he’s the sickening one?”

“Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But, hey, not like Jess has great taste, either. He loves Hemingway and hates poetry.”

“I know,” Chris said, commiseratory, as he leaned against the counter back across from her. “When he bad mouths Tennyson? It’s the closest I’ve ever felt to homicidal.”

“I don’t know. Tennyson’s nothing compared to Byron,” Ella argued, shrugging slightly.

Chris gasped. “Not you too! And here I thought we were beginning a beautiful friendship!”

Just then, Jess returned with a bag of coffee in one hand and his keys in the other. He always locked the door out of instinct, even when someone else was home. It was a habit Ella had noticed, but didn’t know the origin of.

“Your girlfriend’s a traitor,” Chris said, feigning shock.

“Old news.” Jess went behind Chris to the coffee machine, his eyes tired without a dose of caffeine. Though he was nowhere near Gilmore level, Ella had noticed how dependent on coffee he had become since his teenage years.

Chris shot Ella a final, joking glare, which she returned, before retreating back into his and Matthew’s room to get dressed.

When the coffee was started, Jess put some tea on for her without having to ask. “I can’t believe you’re awake. Thought you’d still be out when I got back.”

“Not everyone likes to get up at sunrise, jackass,” she retorted with a smile.

“I’m not judging you, Morticia. I know how the sunlight drains your vitality,” he said, smirking.

“My God, you’re still so hilarious.”

“It’s been said.”

As Jess finished what he was doing, he walked toward her, elbows on the counter. He leaned over and pressed a long, sweet kiss to her lips.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hey,” she replied, a dreamy, sleepy glaze in her hazel eyes.

Waiting for the coffee and tea to brew, he took one of her hands in his own across the island. For a moment, they were both seventeen and holding hands as she took her break at the diner. Luke often chided Jess for getting distracted by her while he was supposed to be working, their fingers tangled together over the counter while they had murmured conversations, customers around them long forgotten.

“Thanks for the note, by the way,” she said. “Very 2003 of you.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna wake you up and I figured you might miss me too much if I didn’t leave one,” Jess said, shrugging.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mariano,” she teased, rolling her eyes at his smug expression.

“I would never,” he replied. Then, she saw his face grow more earnest. “So, I got a call from Jimmy while I was out.”

“Really?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

He nodded. “Yeah, I started talking with him again about six months ago. Not like we’re close or anything. But he called to tell me he was marrying his girlfriend, and then he started checking in every month or so.”

“And you’re okay with that?” she asked. Images of a crestfallen Jess, shivering in the backseat of his car, flashed in her mind.

Again, he shrugged. “He apologized for kicking me out. Which is more than my mom ever did. I mean...he’s still a deadbeat. I’m not ever gonna call him ‘daddy.’ But he lives in Venice.”

“Yeah. And?” she asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“And he said we could come visit any time we want. You’ve still got two weeks before you go back to school, we just finished this month’s Zine yesterday, and Chris and Matthew can manage without me for a few days. What do you think?” he asked, a familiar hesitation lacing his voice.

She took a moment to consider it, her eyes calculating. The look on her face almost made Jess want to smirk out of pure nostalgia; he could practically see the gears turning in her head. “California?”

“Yes. The subject of a thousand Beach Boys songs.”

“Thought you said I’d hate it there?”

“Well, when we get there you can decide for yourself.”

She snickered half-heartedly. “But does he mean you can visit? Or we can visit? I mean...I don’t want to go if he doesn’t expect me.”

“He knows about you. And I can guarantee his wife will like you a hell of a lot more than she likes me.” Averting his gaze sheepishly, Jess ran a thumb over the back of her hand.

Again, she took a long pause before she spoke, tugging at her earring with a free hand. “Well, we obviously can’t afford to fly. And your car is out. So, we’d take my station wagon?”

“My car is not that bad,” Jess scoffed. “It’s driven me across the country a couple times.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” she said, “that car is death on wheels. When would we leave?”

“I don’t know. After breakfast,” he suggested, nonchalant.

A surprised, breathy chuckle escaped her lips.

Smirking small and hopefully, Jess continued. “We’d be there by Tuesday. There’s bound to be a few cheap motels we can stop at on the way.”

No matter how well Ella knew Jess, there would always be a part of him capable of catching her completely off guard. The part of him which was wild and impulsive, while she often trapped herself in monotony. But, as she searched her mind for reasons not to go, she came up empty. Once she started school, there wouldn’t be any time. And though she was still feeling a little overwhelmed, away from Stars Hollow for the first time ever, she grasped on to the jewel of excitement shining within her. She had never really been anywhere. And it was finally time to go somewhere. She smiled widely.

“Okay, Mariano,” she said. “I’ll finally get to see what Joni Mitchell’s been singing about.”

. . .

The sky was a pale gray, blurred with a drizzly morning rain. By afternoon, they would be on the West Coast, after having driven for two days. Their backs were slightly sore from the lumpy motel mattresses and their stomachs uneasy from greasy diner food along the way. But Ella smiled softly as they sat in sleepy silence, a Led Zeppelin CD Lane had given her before she left playing on the station wagon’s speakers. Her fingers tapped silently on the steering wheel with the beat, the cracked pavement highway before them free of almost all cars. Only about six more hours to go. She didn’t know what to expect, and the nerves were brewing within her. Jess had told her some about his father and his family, but not enough to make her calm down. Enough to make her calm down probably didn’t exist.

She let her thoughts wander, the anxiety in the back of her mind quieted momentarily. The fingers of her right hand were laced with Jess’s, her free left hand steering.

“Y’know, I can see why you and Matthew are friends,” she thought aloud, breaking the comfortable silence.

“How do you mean?”

Ella shrugged slightly. “I don’t know. You’re both into Bukowski and obscure quotes on t-shirts. You’re both shy. Though Matthew doesn’t have the whole broody writer thing going on like you.”

“I’m not shy,” Jess said defensively, brows furrowed.

She scoffed, tossing a doubtful glance his way. “Of course you are, Jess. You’re blushing right now.”

Sighing in frustration, Jess waved a dismissive hand. He could feel the heat of his face increasing. “That’s because you’re you. Not just anybody can make me blush.”

“Well, you also barely talk to anyone else besides me,” she continued.

“Maybe there’s just no one else worth talking to.” A crease of annoyance formed between his brows, almost a pouty look on his face.

“Whatever, tough guy.”

Jess breathed out through his nose, unable to get the flush to leave his face.

“Hey, being shy is not a bad thing, Mariano,” she said emphatically. “It’s just the way you are. It’s cute.”

Jess ran a hand over his mouth. “I am not cute.”

“Sure you aren’t,” she replied, her voice a sigh as she feigned innocence.

“At least I’m not a Stevie Nicks groupie,” he said dejectedly.

Ella only laughed again as they made their way West.

. . .

As soon as they reached the shore, Ella took Jess’s hand and squeezed tightly. He smirked over at her, squinting in the harsh August sunshine. The sky was free from all clouds, deep blue against the lighter shade of the water. People dotted the sand, but they had a pretty substantial amount of space as they laid out their towels and Ella dropped her purse down. Saltwater stung her nose, and she shaded her eyes with the flat of her hand as she looked around. It was low tide, and she could see fishing poles stuck in the sand far away in both directions, until the figures shrunk down to the size of ants and disappeared behind the horizon. Before she could succumb to her nerves, she stripped her flowy black dress off, left in nothing but the dark green bikini she’d bought for a trip to the lake with Lane a summer earlier. Raking her hands through her hair, wild in the sea wind, she wished she had paints with her. She’d brought her sketchbook and her charcoals of course, but an easel and a set of oils would be just too much to lug around. And, too expensive.

Jess could see how anxious she was, as she tugged absently at her earlobe. Standing across from her in only his black swim trunks, he took her hand again. “Hey, earth to Eleanor. You wanna go in?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella shot him an indecisive look. “Or I could sit here and draw. Or we could read. Or do literally anything else but get swallowed up by the Pacific.”

He scoffed. “So dramatic. I’ll be right there. It’s low tide. C’mon. World bites you, you bite back.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you’re interpreting that phrase correctly.”

“And I don’t think you’re as good at stalling as you think you are,” he shot back smugly, smirking. “C’mon.”

Though she let him lead her to the water, she still muttered begrudging hesitations. Her skin was crawling with anticipation, not only because she was about to feel the ocean for the first time in so long. They had yet to arrive at Jess’s father’s place. Both he and his wife were at work, his step-daughter at school. It made more sense for them to visit the beach first, then be at the house by dinner time. It wasn’t as though she was worried about them not liking her, or about being intimidated by them. The feeling was hard to pinpoint. Maybe it was because she was stepping into a part of Jess’s world she had never bore witness to. Almost the way it felt to go visit him in New York as a teenager. Then, however, there hadn’t been two days of driving to precede it, allowing time for her to stress.

The water was cool as they walked in, making goosebumps rise on her freckled skin. Small shards of shells crunched beneath their feet uncomfortably until they were in up to their knees. She could feel the current against her legs. Waves crashed into whitish foam and bubbles around them, spraying droplets of water on their faces. Her hand tightened on Jess’s the further out they walked. Soon, they were up to their waists in water, the ocean crashing. Jess could see the fear shining in Ella’s hazel eyes as the tide beat against them, though the waves were nowhere near jarring or difficult to stand through.

“Hey, Daria,” he said, disentangling their fingers and bringing a secure arm around her waist instead. “Relax. Once we get out past where the waves are crashing, it’ll be easy.”

“Remind me again why I agreed to this?”

She scanned the water ahead of them frantically, the point past which the waves were only forming and not crashing looking both near and impossibly far. Her muscles were rigid and she squeezed her eyes shut as they turned their backs against a particularly strong wave. Water rushed over her, wetting the ends of her hair. Jess’s solid form felt almost like a life raft as they turned again and finally made it to the calmer part of the water.

“Because this is an exercise in adventure and spontaneity,” Jess answered finally, voice raised slightly over the noise as he repeated the words she’d spoken in the car yesterday verbatim. If they were going to California, it would be a crime to waste the chance to swim in the Pacific, she’d said. Above them, seagulls squawked in the cloudless sky.

Ella had to admit, as scary as it was, dipping into the water felt an utterly refreshing break from the summer heat. Still, her hands shook with anxiety. “I’m plenty fucking adventurous.”

He chuckled. “And now this can be a reason why.”

She rolled her eyes, then glanced back to the shore, where their small pile of towels and other belongings looked small and insignificant. Sighing through her nose, she faced Jess again. “Doesn’t it seem like we’re really far out?”

“We’re not,” he said, shaking his head and gesturing to the other swimmers much closer to the flat horizon than they were. “It’s low tide, so it just seems far away, okay? Don’t worry.”

She raised a doubtful eyebrow.

They waded in the pristine blue water, deep enough for Ella to be unable to touch the seafloor. Jess could still stand if he tried, but it was a stretch. Instead, they floated over the constant waves, mounds of water which carried them up and deposited them back down over and over. At a particularly high peak, Ella, acting on instinct, wrapped her arms around Jess’s shoulders and hugged him tightly.

A grin formed on his face as his arms wound around her, his heart practically jelly in his chest. He could count on one hand the amount of times Ella had allowed him to see her so vulnerable. It made him feel wanted, needed, in a way so foreign to him he had to bite his bottom lip to keep an astonished laugh from escaping him. When they were down near the bottom again, he ran a comforting hand up and down over her back, under the water.

“Relax,” he repeated, more softly this time, close to her ear. “I’m right here.”

Sighing heavily, Ella nodded. “Okay. Okay. I’m relaxing.”

“I can see that.”

A petulant scowl crossed her face, but she released him from her strong grip. Their hands were still linked, but she began to gain her own bearings as the waves continued, slow and steady. Eventually, she was brave enough to submerge herself in the water, wetting her flushed face and frizzy hair. Jess’s own locks fell over his forehead boyishly, dripping on his cheeks. Ella smirked as she pushed it back and away from his face.

“Look at you,” Jess said proudly as she finally let go of his hands, gliding over a wave on her own. “You’re halfway to Blue Crush.”

She snorted a laugh at his odd reference. “I was actually thinking more like Splash. Always choose the mermaid over the surfer.”

“My mistake,” he said lightly. “Does that make me Tom Hanks?”

“In theory, but, in practice, you’re always James Dean.”

. . .

Beachy decorations adorned nearly every inch of the walls in Jimmy’s house. The kitschiness charmed Ella immediately, as did Jimmy’s wife, Sasha. She had bleached blonde hair, cropped close to the head, and deep blue eyes radiating generosity. Upon arriving, she gave Ella a big hug, enveloping her in the scent of cinnamon. And Ella had to keep from raising her eyebrows in surprise when she saw Jimmy. He looked almost exactly like Jess, though the hair and the eyes were lighter, and he was slightly taller. It made far more sense to her why Jess looked nearly nothing like his mother. Lastly, Ella came to meet Lily when Jess opened the living room cupboard to reveal her sitting with her knees to her chest, reading. Ella could tell by the way no one else batted an eye that the habit of cabinet reading was not a one-time thing. The girl, around twelve, short and bespectacled with straight, mousy brown hair, reminded Ella almost of Rory. Though Lily radiated a peculiarity which Rory never had. It was welcome. Ella appreciated Lily’s confidence in her odd behavior, much the way she encouraged April’s long, winded rants about science or math. Weird girls were everywhere, just as Ella thought they should be.

Heated and tired, Ella and Jess sat on one side of the ramshackle dining table, hands clasped underneath the surface, as they watched Sasha clear the dinner plates away and go to get the ice cream for dessert. Both Jess and Ella offered to do the dishes themselves, but Sasha would hear none of it. Instead, they sat with the other two of the house’s residents, in near-silence. The air was suddenly tense, Jimmy and Jess sharing a few charged looks between them. Without Sasha’s hospitable aura, there was nothing to keep them from facing each other for real. It was the first time they’d seen each other since Jess had been kicked out, and in-person was always so different from the phone.

“Lil, did you finish that science poster you had due tomorrow?” Jimmy asked, Sasha having gotten up from the table at the tail end of a conversation about Lily’s interests in school.

Her nose was already buried back in her thick fantasy novel. She had picked it up from the ground next to her as soon as her mother left the room. Nodding, she gave a small grunt of confirmation, but didn’t look up.

Jess’s grip tightened slightly on Ella’s hand, and she could see his shoulders grow taut. He held onto her just as she had him as they drifted along the waves earlier in the day.

Clearing her throat, Ella ran her free hand through her hair and put on the most convincing smile she could muster. “So, Jess told me you’ve got a pretty cool record collection?”

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been working on it for about twenty years.”

“Cool. I only have a couple dozen, but one day maybe I’ll have a whole shelf,” she said, grasping at straws to keep the conversation going.

Jess said nothing; small talk had never been his forté. Especially with the man who had come into his life again eighteen years after abandoning him. But he was trying his best to keep his bitterness at bay, just as he had when he had lived there before.

Chuckling under his breath, Jimmy leaned back in his chair. “That’s a nice thought, but it’ll cost a fortune if any of those records are worth a damn.”

“Yeah. Hopefully someday I’ll get there.”

“You sound just like me at your age. But I ended up with two hundred records and eighteen cents in my bank account. Math was never one of my strengths,” he replied, taking a sip of the white wine from the glass in front of him.

Jess scoffed. “Eleanor has a college degree and no kids to flake on. I think she’ll be just fine.”

Narrowing his eyes just a touch at his son, Jimmy maintained an air of easy-going composure. He had his shirt untucked and one leg crossed over the other lazily. Though she tried to stop it, the word ‘slacker’ definitely came to Ella’s mind when she saw him, partially due to Jess’s influence, she knew.

“And what about you? How’s Truncheon?” Jimmy asked.

Jess shrugged.

“The Zine for this month should be coming out tomorrow. It looks great. There’s a lot of abstract stuff,” Ella chimed in, lamely, when she saw Jess wasn’t going to respond further.

“Here’s hoping it’ll stay afloat,” Jimmy said.

There was nothing malicious about his tone, nothing manipulative. She could see almost nothing of her own father in him. But Jimmy was a different breed of faulty fatherhood. No hope. Very little encouragement. Sasha took the reins with most of the dinner conversation. And Jimmy mostly added stories of his days spent homeless or in crappy housing out in Hollywood when he’d been scheming to become a musician. He spoke about the pointlessness of his dream. Of dreams in general. Ella thought his life seemed perfectly fine, even if managing some stand on the boardwalk wasn’t what he’d envisioned. But he was almost making himself more washed-up. And he saw Jess the way everyone in Stars Hollow had. In fact, he seemed to see Jess as himself. Maybe Jess being successful in his dreams was what drove the stand-offishness. Even with the compulsory invitation to visit and the monthly phone calls. Given the interactions she had witnessed, Ella wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been Sasha who forced Jimmy to play parent to his son after so long.

“Here’s hoping,” Jess echoed, voice flat and face expressionless.

Mercifully, Sasha then twirled back into the room with bowls of vanilla ice cream and questions for Ella about grad school. Jess retreated back into brooding silence while Ella rubbed circles on the back of his hand with her thumb.

. . .

Taking a sharp intake of breath, Jess jerked awake. The air mattress on which they slept shifted and squeaked at his sudden movement. Ella, who Jess’s arm had been draped over, was jostled as well. He sighed quietly, reminding himself of where he was. Waiting a moment to change position, Jess thought Ella was still asleep. But, after a few more seconds, she stirred and her hazel eyes opened a crack. The open window in the spare room let in warm nighttime air, and the hum of cicadas was the only other sound in the house besides their breathing.

“Go back to sleep,” Jess whispered hastily.

Instead, she lifted her head to look at him. His eyes shone in the moonlight and she could feel his slightly winded breathing. Sympathy washing over her face, she sat up despite his murmured protests. She ran a hand through his disheveled hair affectionately, then moved the back of her hand to his cheek. His face was reddish even in the low glow of the room, and his skin was warm.

“You got a little sunburnt,” she said quietly, her voice groggy. Her touch was soft and gentle.

The small gesture of concern was enough to make Jess have to avert his gaze. His chest was tight with panic from a dream he didn’t even remember, and he didn’t trust his voice enough to speak again. Swallowing thickly, he stared out the window at the stars peeking through the wispy clouds, pale against the dark sky.

Breathing a long breath through her nose and clearing her throat, she began stroking his hair again. “Did you have one of those dreams?”

He only nodded. While Ella slept heavily, could fall asleep anywhere, Jess almost never made it through a night without waking up at least once. Sometimes for no reason at all, but many times due to nightmares. Often he dreamed in hazy flashes which jolted him back to consciousness with feelings of dread and anxiety. As a teen, the only solution had been blasting loud music to get to sleep, a remedy he still wasn’t sure the cause of. With Ella at his side, though, he needed his headphones less and less. Not every time, but sometimes, she would wake up upon feeling his movements. Would stay up talking until he was finally lulled back to at least a doze. He would never wake her if she didn’t on her own, and always told her not to worry, to get back to bed, but she never did. Not until he did too.

And it wasn’t as though she was surprised, or not used to it. The first time she’d found him breathless in the middle of the night, eyes embarrassed and full of fear, had been in high school. Only around the second or third time he’d slept over with her. The rest of the night was spent playing cards and discussing books. His cheeks had burned with shame the entire time, despite her constant reassurance. She didn’t mind at all. She still didn’t.

Ella followed his eyes out the window, where there was a view of the beach. The moon reflected against the water, and the shore was empty. “Hey. You wanna go for a walk?”

He furrowed his brows in silent questioning.

“There’s no one out there. And out there we won’t have the Children of the Corn staring at us,” she said, gesturing to the strange artwork hanging on the wall above the desk. There were four drawings, each of a Victorian child with large, gaping eyes and a lifeless face.

Jess snickered half-heartedly, considering it for a moment. Then, he nodded again. Ella let a small smile across her face, standing up and throwing her simple black dress on again, with the flannel Jess had been wearing earlier over it. Though he felt shaky, Jess rose and tugged on his jeans and a t-shirt. Barefoot on the creaky wood floor, Ella took Jess’s hand and led him outside. He flinched away from the many dogs sleeping in the front yard. She pulled him through the garden and past the front gate quickly.

The walk down to the sand was short and silent. Most of the time, after a nightmare, Jess didn’t want to talk. Ella hardly knew what he dreamed about. Instead, she would talk to him about her day, tell stories, list her favorite things, until his heart calmed and his eyes began to get heavy again. But, as they walked down to the beach, they both just took a moment to breathe in the surroundings. The houses painted ostentatious colors and the cheesy stands on the boardwalk. Palm trees rustled in the nighttime breeze, stronger as they got close to the ocean. Soon, the soft, cold sand was beneath their feet. Wordlessly, Jess took a seat on the beach a few feet up from the waves. Ella plopped down next to him, criss-cross applesauce with her hands resting behind her for support. She closed her eyes and listened to the ocean. The whoosh of the water and the air. The smell of the sea and the slight chill of the wind. She didn’t love going in, but she certainly could understand the Pacific’s unique beauty.

Taking in a deep breath, Jess stared down at his legs and tried to fight off the mixture of emotions churning in his stomach. He still felt ashamed every time he woke Ella up, though it was always accidental. And he couldn’t shake the sick uneasiness coursing through him. Whatever the dream had been, he was glad he couldn’t remember any specifics.

“You okay?” she asked, opening her eyes again and facing him. Her long hair fell over her shoulder, unkempt.

Looking out at the ocean, Jess smirked sharply. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” she replied, nodding in understanding.

The tenderness in her voice struck him, but he swallowed down the feeling. Another long silence passed between them, comfortable, before a thought occurred to Jess. His smirk was more genuine when he turned to her and undid the button on one of the breast pockets of the flannel she had thrown on. She tilted her head to him in askance, but her eyes lit up with realization as he pulled a small plastic bag and a lighter from the pocket. The shirt was baggy on her frame, and she hadn’t felt the weight of them with Jess in the forefront of her mind.

“Where did that come from?” she asked, chuckling through her words.

Jess shrugged, the lighter in one hand as he opened the bag, which held a small stash of marijuana and a pack of rolling papers. “I forgot this here when I went back to New York. And either I’m great at stashing things or daddy dearest is clueless, because it was still in the closet where I left it. I found it earlier when you were in the shower.”

Her eyebrows shot up, impressed. “It’s probably a little of both.”

“True,” he said, rolling a joint with deft fingers. “I’m the son of Liz Danes. And no one can hide drugs like that woman.”

Biting at her cheek, Ella took a long look at him. His profile was clear in the moonlight, strong and handsome. Stubble shadowed his cheeks and his hair, messy from sleep, fell into his eyes. There were moments, few and far between, when Jess let the pieces of his childhood slip out. Since meeting him, Ella had slowly begun to put the puzzle together. He almost never told her an outright story, or made a big deal of things which he should have. The drinking, the drugs, the boyfriends, the violence, the instability, financial and otherwise. His past wasn’t who he was, but it, in a way, made things click for her. Everyone had a story. Jess didn’t often share his, but it still affected him every day. Less and less now that he had a life of his own, but, on the rarest of occasions, Ella could see ghosts of the scared, lonely boy Jess had once been. A boy whose only defense had been sarcasm and only escape had been books. Her heart twisted in her chest as she watched him, but she said nothing. She only ran a hand up and down his back, and placed a kiss on his shoulder as he worked. He smiled a tiny smile, keeping his eyes on his hands.

Soon, he had lit the joint and passed it to her. The tip glowed orange in the moonlight as she inhaled deeply, the familiar smell filling up her chest. She exhaled the smoke in a long stream, handing it back to hin. Neither she nor Jess were big on pot, not even in high school. The last time she’d smoked pot was the first time Lane had. Hep Alien’s guitarist, Gil, owned a sandwich shop, and one of the shop guys grew pot in his basement. His stuff was pretty good, though Lane had gotten incredibly paranoid and sworn it off for good after the first few hits.

“So, was California Jess a stoner, surfer type?” Ella asked, words snaking out from between her lips in clouds of smoke. Her mind was already beginning to buzz and smudge around the edges. A warm, pleasant tingling enveloped her legs.

Jess chuckled. “No. He was a leather-clad loser who didn’t graduate high school and owned nothing but a duffel bag full of books.”

Her expression fell, growing somber. “You weren’t a loser, Jess. You’re not a loser.”

Scoffing, he passed the joint to her again. “Right...I just…”

Pausing, he sighed and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Ella could see him struggling for his words, in a mood she couldn’t quite decipher. Part of it was the high, but part of it was something else completely.

“Even Luke kicked me out. And you were going to college. I didn’t want to...I couldn’t stick around and keep you from anything,” he explained, head growing light with the influence of the drugs. “My mom didn’t want me, my uncle didn’t want me. No one wanted me there.”

Ella furrowed her brows and shook her head sadly, handing the joint his way again. “I wanted you.”

Breathing out shakily, he felt the joint begin to burn his fingers and stubbed it out against the cool sand. He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his elbows on them, hands clasped in front of him. Hiding his face with a bowed head, Jess tried to fight the tears which formed in his eyes. Coming back had brought memories he didn’t remember forgetting. Long nights filled with regret, unhappy days dealing with customers at the bookstore, uncomfortable family dinners where he could never really find his place despite how hard Sasha tried. The feeling of not belonging was so similar to the one he’d had in Stars Hollow. But, in Stars Hollow, New York was just a bus ride away, and Ella was just a walk down the road. Isolation took on a new meaning during his six months in California.

Ella was surprised to hear him sniffle and see his form begin to tremble. She whispered his name, but got no response. After a moment of hesitation, she brought her arm around him, her head next his own as it rested on his shoulder. Shivering with his small sobs, Jess looked up again and let silent tears fall down his cheeks, though his skin flamed with shame.

“And imagine my surprise when I got here and my dad was just as big a loser as me,” he said, breathing short, frustrated breaths. “But, he managed to get a new family anyway.”

Sighing heavily, Ella pressed another kiss to his shoulder. “Jess, you’re not like him-”

“Oh, I’m not?” he asked doubtfully.

“Absolutely not,” she said, a new firmness to her tone. “You wrote a book. You own a business. You were employee of the month at Walmart!”

He shook his head.

“No, Mariano, I’m serious,” Ella continued, insistent. “You think Jimmy would ever be able to get employee of the month anywhere? Just because you didn’t love school doesn’t mean you’re not a hard worker. Jess, you’re the most passionate person I know.”

“Very funny, Stevens.”

“Believe me or not, it’s true. It’s just a fact. Your dad is a fucking idiot. But you’re not him. You are intense and shy and funny and kind and so fucking smart, alright? You’re only 21 and you’ve already done more than he ever has. And I know it fucking sucks that he didn’t grow up in time for you, but that wasn’t because of you. In spite of all that, you still manage to be you,” she said, her voice soft but ardent. The words spilled out of her mouth in a fervent rush, her mind loose and clear and high. “He really fucking missed out. Because he doesn’t know you.”

Jess could feel her voice rumble in her chest against his arm as she leaned on him, holding him. And he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He didn’t know what to say. The emotions bubbling up from beneath the surface muted his words. He stared out at the waves again, and a reluctant smirk formed on his face after a moment, though his cheeks were still damp.

“Haven’t heard you go all motivational speaker in a while,” he said, voice watery but smug.

She let giggle escape her lips and straightened up slightly. Wiping away his tears with her thumb and kissing the top of his hair, she drew his head to her shoulder. “Yeah, well, desperate times.”

“Thank you, Eleanor,” he murmured, noticing how the sky had begun to lighten to a soft bluish gray.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied.

And they sat on the sand, sheltered in their embrace against the wind, into the early hours of the morning as the sun rose over the ocean.

#jess mariano #jess #mariano #jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano au #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano imagines #gilmore girls #gilmore #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls imagines #gilmore girls imagine #jess mariano x oc #jess mariano x original character #original character stories #original character fanfiction #fanfiction

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blacklacefanfics · 4 years

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Raison D’Etre

Summary: It’s New Year’s Eve 2019- Crowley’s reflecting, drinks are flowing, and it’s the roaring 20s.

A/N: My GOmens Holiday swap gift for @idanit !! I wanted to incorporate the bookshop fluff, ineffable wives, some nice dancing, and the current holidays into this fic. It’s also been so long since I’ve sat down and wrote a fic this long, so I’m hoping that you like it!

Crowley pulled up outside of the bookshop, her Bentley rattling to a slow stop. Driving through SoHo on the night of New Year’s Eve wasn’t anyone’s idea of a good time, but she had promised to meet Aziraphale up before midnight and she wasn’t one to be late- when meeting her angel, anyways.

People bustled past on the sidewalk, already loud and buzzing an hour before midnight. It wasn’t a scene that Crowley was unfamiliar with, but the crowds every year around this time could be massively overwhelming even for a demon.

She grabbed the brown bag and glasses from her car and sauntered towards the bookshop, miracling the handle unlocked and knocking her hip against the door to swing it open. The bell above jingled happily.

“Angel-”

“A moment please!” Aziraphale called from the back room. A rustle of books and papers a moment later, and she came to the front with a smile on her face. “Crowley! You said you would be a while.”

“Figured I’d be early tonight, y’know? And I come bearing gifts.” Crowley smiled and held up the glasses and bag.

“Lovely!” Aziraphale beamed, glancing downward. “Crowley, what on Earth are you wearing?”

“You don’t like it?” Crowley glanced down at herself- a black button down, silver tie, black pants and suspenders. She swept her red hair over her shoulder. “I thought it was rather fitting for the ‘Roaring 20’s’ and all that.”

“Just not your usual fashion- bit outdated.”

Crowley snorted a laugh.

“Really? Says the one who can’t lose the tartan.” Crowley teased, pulling Aziraphale towards her by the waist, arms wrapped around her.

Aziraphale blushed, smacking at her hand. “You shush! Tartan is stylish. Everyone knows that.”

“Your outfits are a few decades old for even the 1920’s, angel, get used to it.” Crowley laughed, letting her pull away. “Do you want my gift or not?”

“Of course. What did you bring?”

“Champagne. For the new year.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale smiled, taking the wine. Crowley set the glasses on the table. “1995 De Venoge Cuvee Louis XV Brut. Very fancy.”

“Only the best.” Crowley winked, taking the bottle and popping it and pouring a glass. “Figured it was an important year, might as well do it right.”

“I thought we were going down to central London this year?” Aziraphale questioned, taking a glass. “Perhaps it’s not a good idea to drink it now if you’re driving us down there.”

“Well,” Crowley said, pouring herself a tall glass and taking a sip. “I figured that we could stay here. Just this time. Maybe go out next year.” She sidled up against Aziraphale again and wrapped her arm around her waist.

“Oh?” Aziraphale smiled up at her. “Just us, then?”

“Mm.” Crowley pulled herself flush against Aziraphale. Aziraphale blushed.

“You’re awfully touchy tonight, Crowley.” She smiled shyly, sipping her glass.

“It is a special occasion, after all.”

“What makes this one more important than the others? We’ve never really celebrated before, have we?” Aziraphale tilted her head.

“Just important, s’all.”

Aziraphale looked up at her. She reached up with her hand and gently caressed Crowley’s face.

“I’m very happy to spend this time with you, my dear.” She said, gently taking off Crowley’s glasses. “We’ve had quite a run of it the past few months. I hope you can forgive me wanting to see you properly.”

Crowley hitched a breath and fluttered her eyes as the glasses were removed. Her gold eyes flickered over Aziraphale’s face and she noticed finally that the bookshop was actually quite dark, save for a few soft lamps and a fireplace in the corner. Had that always been there?

“I don’t mind.” She swallowed, suddenly stepping back. “I, um…” Her face reddened suddenly and she laughed nervously. “I may have had a couple of drinks before coming over.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale scolded. “You drove!”

“I held it off until now, angel. Don’t worry.” Crowley scoffed, waving off her admonishments. The room wobbled just under her feet, and she thought perhaps chugging a bottle of cheap whiskey was a bad idea.

“Why would you do that and still bring something to drink?” Aziraphale prattled on nonetheless, leading Crowley to the couch and sitting her down.

“Because it’s a party tonight, angel! The one night all the humans are out getting drunk and celebrating surviving another year, shouldn’t I get to?”

Aziraphale gave her a reproved look and rolled her eyes.

“You’re impossible. I hope you know that.”

“It’s one of my many charms.” Crowley smirked up at her, itching to grab her glasses off the table and slide them back on. It was hard to resist, even when up against Aziraphale’s wishes.

Aziraphale huffed.

“Well, if we’re going to be in drinking all night, I’m going to put on some music.” She sauntered over to her dusty old phonograph- one Crowley was very fond of making fun of- and flipped through her collection of vinyl. Much of it was Crowley’s choice of music, anyways, but this record she picked up especially for tonight. She played it on the player and adjusted the needle. A quick trumpet solo flowed out, followed by instrumentals.

“I don’t recall getting you this album.” Crowley teased, moving to the side for Aziraphale to sit on the couch as well. She sat in the middle, effectively closing Crowley up against the corner of the couch.

“You didn’t. I picked it for this evening. I know it’s not your usual style.”

Crowley listened for a moment and finished off her champagne.

“Louis Armstrong. How appropriate for the evening.”

“Well, humans only were able to record music for the past century or so. I figured it’d be nice to get a little nostalgic.”

Crowley looked over at her and smiled, laughing a bit.

“A hundred years is nothing, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled back.

“Perhaps. But New Year’s is meant to be a time of reflection. What we’ve accomplished, what we haven’t.”

She went quiet and looked away. Crowley felt her chest ache in a most familiar way.

It had been quite the year- quite the decade. Years and days usually pass without any thought to them, considering they’ve seen multiple millennia. However this decade- and this year- were the culmination of everything they experienced. Adam’s birth only eleven years ago. Crowley’s stint as a nanny to raise the Destroyer of Worlds and Aziraphale’s governess position to try to influence him to be “good.” Yes, it was the wrong child, but that was not the point. The point was that this year the humans wouldn’t see the new year. No new decade, no new century. Not after all of this.

But because of one mistake (the jury is still out on where it all went wrong), they had managed to.. do what, exactly? Yes, the world was saved and they didn’t technically get directly involved. It was still their heads on the chopping block at the end of the day- and they still had to stay safe, lest their trickery gets discovered.

The record skipped as it switched to a new instrumental track, this one slower than the previous. Crowley stared at Aziraphale’s profile, the lamplight encompassing her like a halo. Humanity had always been about moving forward, progressing. That had been what they wanted to protect the moment they faced their respective ex-bosses at the airbase that day. Heaven and Hell knew nothing of that. Always stagnant, stuck in the same spat from before time was even created.

Crowley wanted to move forward. Always wanted it. Wanted it back in Eden, as she first approached the Angel of the Eastern Gate, and wanted it half a century ago, as Aziraphale handed her the thermos of Holy Water. Aziraphale was always slow-going. Wary. Scared of making the wrong move, and scared of being tempted from her duties.

What duties remained now? Nothing. They took their orders and threw them out the window in the midst of the apocalypse. Aziraphale was on their side, as was Crowley. Maybe she was ready to move, too.

“It’s also about progress.” Crowley tilted an eyebrow at her point. Her glass magically refilled. “What to look forward to now that they’ve survived it all. Isn’t that the point?”

Aziraphale looked her in the eye, her blue eyes striking compared to the warm yellow light.

“Yes. They always move forward, even at the end of the world.” Aziraphale stared down at her glass with a small smile. “I suppose that’s why we fell in love, right?” Aziraphale fluttered a look at Crowley. “With the world, I mean.”

The record skipped again right in time with Crowley’s heart. The soft trumpet poured out from seeming all directions, and Hanshaw’s voice flowing around them.

I'm Flying high,

but I've got a feeling I'm falling…

Aziraphale and Crowley locked eyes.

Falling for nobody else but you…

God, Crowley wanted to move forward.

Crowley knocked back her full glass of champagne and stood quickly, startling Aziraphale.

“What are you-“

“D’you want to dance?” Crowley sputtered out quickly.

Aziraphale lifted her eyebrows in surprise before settling into a please smile. She set her glass down and stood, approaching Crowley. It suddenly occurred to her that she had never properly danced before.

“Let me show you.” Aziraphale reassured and seemingly reading her mind, taking her hand and leading to a space devoid of books. She linked hands with Crowley, swinging them back and forth. “I may have learned a thing or two back then.”

Crowley watched her movements closely and mirrored them, swaying to the rhythm and back again. Aziraphale let go with one hand and twirled inwards to Crowley’s arms. Her tartan dressed swirled around her knees and her blonde curls bounced along with her dancing.

“It’s called swing dancing.” She twirled back out and brought herself back in, holding her arm around Crowley this time and waltzing in time to the music. “I remember that they had only this back then. Music, dancing, and each other. Before their own world betrayed them.”

They fell silent again and swayed to the song, both deep in thought. The record skipped again- this time back to Armstrong.

When you're smilin’ Keep on smilin’… The whole world smiles with you…

Something heavy fell to the pit of Crowley’s stomach and she stilled. Aziraphale pulled back to look at her, moving her hand up and stroking Crowley’s face gently.

“Everything alright?”

Crowley nodded and suddenly felt choked up.

“Oh, Crowley.”

“No, it’sss fine.” Crowley insisted, wiping at her eyes. “I just hate slow songs.”

Aziraphale gave her an incredulous look, but still held her close. She laced her hand with Crowley’s and leaned their foreheads together.

“Crowley, I should say that I don’t have regrets about the past year.”

Crowley breathed out.

“You don’t?”

“No, I don’t.” Aziraphale pulled back and looked at her. “I’m glad we stopped the Apocalypse. I’m glad we’re on the same side. I’m glad we helped save the world.”

“More or less.”

Aziraphale laughed. “More or less.”

Crowley smiled.

“And, for what it’s worth,” Aziraphale continued, “I’m glad this New Year’s is important. If anything, it’s proven that we have much to live for. Our raison d’etre. Don’t you think?”

Crowley nodded slowly. Noise suddenly filtered into the bookshop over the music, quickly being realized as the sound of many drunk people out in the streets.

“I believe they’re counting down.”

“Do you want to go out and join them?” Aziraphale asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Not really.” Crowley couldn’t take her eyes off Aziraphale’s- and why would she? Her raison d’etre was right in front of her. She received a smile in return and the bookshop filled with flickering lights. Multiple colors bounced off Aziraphale’s pinned hair and cheering drunks stumbled past the outer windows.

Crowley leaned in slowly, then all at once as she connected her lips with Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale clasped Crowley’s face in her hands and kissed back fervently as they pressed into each other. Fireworks echoed across London just as butterflies exploded in Crowley’s belly.

Aziraphale pulled back after a moment and breathed, a smile breaking across her face.

“I’ve waited hundreds of years to do that.” She beamed.

“I waited thousands.” Crowley smiled, diving back in to kiss again at her angel’s surprised face. She kissed alongside her mouth and up her cheek. Aziraphale laughed.

“You could’ve said something, you naughty serpent!”

“But the anticipation was so sweet, wasn’t it?” Crowley teased. She dropped her hand down to tangle with Aziraphale’s again.

“Only because I am free to love you as I always have.” She responded, rubbing her thumb across Crowley’s reddening cheek. Crowley wanted to damn the charm that made her weak at the knees, but found she really couldn’t. Or even wanted to, really.

“Perhaps we should make a toast?” Aziraphale prompted. She poured the glasses once again and handed one to Crowley. “To the New Year.”

“To saving the humans.”

“To new beginnings.”

Crowley raised her glass at Aziraphale. “To the world.”

Aziraphale followed in kind, clinking her glass against Crowley’s.

“To us, and what the future may bring us.”

Crowley met her eyes and Aziraphale smiled. A new warmth flowed through her and she smiled back.

“To us.”

Songs mentioned:

West End Blues Louis Armstrong

I’ve Got a Feeling I’m Falling Annette Hanshaw

When You Smile (The Whole World Smiles With You) Louis Armstrong

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #goodomensholidayswap #gomensholidayswap #goholidayswap #goholidayexchange #gosecretsanta #mine

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fieldfullofbangtan · 5 years

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bts imgn: taking care of them when they are drunk (friends)

holy poop this is my first ever imagine and it is WAY too long im gonna try to make it shorter in the future lol

(also im taking requests! so send emmmm)

requests are open!

✎ masterlist

SeokJin

Jin would call you at 3am asking you to pick him up from a bar. You knew that the boys sometimes went out to grab a drink but this time Jin was alone which was weird. He didn’t- or couldn’t say much more than just “(Y/N) please can you come pick me up? Im at the usual place...”.

When you got there he sat outside on a bench napping, you had to pretty much carry him to the car. He crashed at your place cause you thought him getting drunk might be because of some fight he had with the others. When he woke up he explained.

“Did I puke?”

“God I hope not...” you say worried looking around.

“Sorry... The bar had a drink called unicorn poop and it tasted like cotton candy and I think we all had one too many so the boys left without noticing I went to the bathroom...”

Just as he finished that sentence the front door busts open and 6 men run inside looking scared shitless. When they spot Jin on the couch they all sigh in relief.

“Thank god...”

( vv him being groggy af in the morning vv )

Namjoon

Namjoon can drink, everybody knows that. He is usually the one who acts the most sober and takes care of the others. But you’re not that bad of a drinker yourself. A few cocktails and a few shots is no biggie. So when you all went out one night Jin and Suga had to bring the lightweights home because they were all basically asleep 2.5 hours in.

You and Namjoon were just beginning though. After another 1.5 hours of dancing and drinking your feet started to hurt and the music was getting too loud. You walk around to try to find Joon but he is nowhere to be seen. Suddenly somebody hugs you from behind. Getting ready to headbutt whatever creep is behind you, he says

“Can we go home now pleaaaase”

You laugh at how dorky Joon is being. He’s only like this is he’s wasted. He becomes a 9 year old boy who has abandoment issues.

“Sure but you will need to let me go cause I can’t move when you are hugging me like this” you say as you laugh.

“Fine...” he says as he pouts.

The club is walking distans to their dorm so you decide to just walk with him and crash there. The 15 minute walk is filled with corny dad jokes, waves of compliments and occasional deep thoughts. You even have to save him from walking into a few lamp posts and poles.

Waking up at their dorms the day after you see a message on your phone.

Namjoon 9:30

- we had to leave early for practice this morning but we left you some Doenjang soup. thanks for a fun night out and if you tell anyone about how drunk i was last night you are no longer allowed to borrow my clothes. ily :)

(vv you are yoongiiii vv)

Yoongi

You hear someone knocking at your door at 12pm. The smart thing to do is grab a frying pan and hide in the closet, but this is not the first time something like this has happened. Yoongi has a tendency to drink when he is feeling down and with the holidays coming up, the possibility of him not being able to spend it with his family usually gets to him. The sloppy, barely audible knocks also point to it being a drunk Yoongi.

Opening the door he is looking at his feet, hair covering his face.

“Come in...”

“Im sorry you always have to deal with me when I’m like this...” he mumbles.

He couldn’t really talk about it with the others because they are most likely just as upset or stressed. It would just end in 7 grown men drinking their sadness away together.

You don’t say much. You grab a beer, a bottle of water and a few blankets from your couch and drag him with you up to the roof of your apartment buildning. Thankfully it’s not freezing cold out and your hoodie plus a few layers of blankets is just enough to warm you. You sit down on the ground, not too far in the distans you can see the skyscrapers of Seoul and above you a clear, star-filled sky. This is where you always go when you feel down. Nothing can make your problems seem small better than skyscrapers and stars.

Yoongi reaches for the bottle of beer when you swat his hand away.

“That is for me.” “This” ... you give him the water bottle ... “is for you”.

Yoongi sighs but takes the waterbottle and opens it to drink some.

The rest of the night you talk about everything and nothing, you make him promise to call you if he ever feels bad enough to repeat this and when the clock reaches 3am, Jin calls and convinces Yoongi to go back to the dorms. He hugs you goodbye and holds you a little longer than usual giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“Thank you (Y/N), I owe you”

Hoseok

Partying with J-hope always ends badly. He has a lot of fun without alcohol, so imagine him drunk. Yea he has way too much fun. He will dance too hard and spill someone’s drink, which leads to a fight. Maybe hit on someone’s girlfriend, which leads to a fight. Once he thought some other guy was Jungkook and playfully slapped him on the head, when the random dude turned around he pointed at someone else, which lead to a fight.

Usually the others can calm situations like that down, but in your case when drinking with hoseok alone, the goal was to stop those situations before they even started.

“Heyyyy that guy looks like Donald Trump” Hoseok slurrs.

“What? Who? Nobody here it over 30...” you look around confused.

“Him over there! With the orange hair!” he says amused.

“Hoseok Donald Trump has orange skin not orange hair boi get your disses right”

“HEY, HEY DONALD!!” he yells at the guy.

“HOSEOK WTF” you whisper-shout as you cover his mouth.

The guy and his entire entourage looks at us confused as Hosoek waves happily at them.

“Why are you always trying to get beaten up????”

Jimin

Jimin sometimes drink too much and it can be because he feels a lot of pressure and alcohol can help relieve that. You followed them to Japan, their first world tour destination, to see the show and they were able to book you a hotel room in the same hotel as them.

After eating dinner with all of them in Joon and Yoongis room they all wanted to sleep earlier because of the concert the next day but Jimin and Jungkook said you could hang a little longer with them by the bar.

Jungkook left after one beer but Jimin stayed with you. When you finished your first drink Jimin was already on his third. You could notice that he was feeling the alcohol because he smiled a little bit more and spoke a little less clearly

“You have a long day tomorrow Jimin, I think you should go to bed” you say slightly worried about his hangover tomorrow.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be able to sleep anyways...” Jimin says with a sad smile.

“Hm?” you look at him for an explanation.

“My anxiety hits the roof right before a concert, I have so many people I need to make proud and I will never be good enough for them...” he drinks what’s remaining in his glass. “I never feel like I’m enough compared to the others, you know?” his eyes start tearing up.

Your heart sinks and you pull him into a hug. “Don’t be stupid, everybody loves you and all your flaws. They don’t expect you to be perfect, they expect you to be human.” You grab his shoulders and push him up from your embrace, staring at him. “Your gonna go to bed, do your best tomorrow, and even if you mess up or don’t think you did well enough, you will still be loved by millions. I promise.”

He smiles and nods, he grabs your hand from his shoulders and says

“Comon’, let’s go to bed”

Taehyung

Taehyungs drunk stages are -a little extra hyper-, to - yelling alot-, to -wearing his shoes on his hands and telling everybody his deepest darkest secrets-, then waking up and remembering nothing.

In this case during you night out, he had told you some hella weird stuff like him having an ice kink, him having a sex dream about you, and that he likes whipped cream more that anything in the world...

This definitaly scarred you since you see Tae as a brother so you felt like giving him some payback. Since he crashed at your place you knew exactly how. You went into the kitchen and grabbed an ice cube, you walked to the counch where he was sleeping and started to rub the ice cube against his face.

“Mm- Huh?” He opened his eyes and stared at you slightly disturbed.

“Good morning taeee ~” you sing.

“Why the ice cube...” he looked at you suspiciously.

You just stared right back at him smirking.

“Oh no... what more did I say last night...”

Jungkook

Jungkook can sometimes be a bit of a lightweight. Now he can drink beer or wine just fine. But if its mixed drinks or shots, the boy can and will blackout.

“SHOT SHOT SHOT SHOT SHOT SHOT EVERYBOOODY”

“Jungkook it’s 10pm... there’s like 13 people in this club...”

“Comonnnn pleaase just take a shot with me....”

He has already had a beer and three shots and you don’t feel like carrying his unconscious body back to the dorms. You know you would get yelled at by the others since you promised them to take it easy with the maknae. But knowing drunk Kookie, he is not going to let up.

“Fine. I’ll take shots with you right after I use the restroom ok? Wait here.”

He nods happily and starts to do something on his phone. You make sure he is not paying attention and go to the other end on the bar. The other bartender looks at you waiting for your order and you ask him to fill 2 shotglasses with water as you point to Jungkook. He nods and chuckles a little. Probably not his first time getting asked that.

You see him pat Jungkook on the shoulder as he points to something, when he is distracted the bartender replaces the two shot glasses nearest him with the glasses with water. He tells Jungkook nevermind and retreats.

“Ok let’s do this!” You tell him coming back from the “restroom”.

“WOO!” he yells as you clink your glasses together and drink the water.

“Wow I must be drunkk cause that tasted like water!” he says happily and starts to drag you to the dance floor.

“I’ve got a long night ahead of me...”

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heavenzfiend · 5 years

Text

Fanfic: Eating in the Kitchen (Date Masamune x MC)- SLBP

Read on AO3

Word count: ~3000

Warning: LEMON

Summary: Masamune returns to the castle but is redirected to the kitchen where MC awaits her husband with a surprise.

Author’s Note: I randomly got an idea to write a naked apron kink and was debating between Kojuro or Masamune but Masa made more sense since a lot of bonding between him and MC happened in their private kitchen. Thanks to the push from @rubyleeray who suggested I write out of my comfort zone, I chose Masa and decided to do it in his POV, something I’ve never done before! This is super fluffy, despite it being a smut. My love for Masa grew so much as I was writing since he is so precious. I hope you enjoy!

Visions of red and gold blur into a gradient at the constant rocking of my mare. The crunching of dry leaves and snapping of twigs beneath the hooves accompany me as they take me back to the safety of Oshu where my beloved awaits.

There is a mixture of ruefulness and ease in my heart at entrusting Kojuro to finish up the meeting with the Ashina in Aizu, knowing that everything will be under control in his capable hands. I clench the reins tighter in hopes of wringing out the guilt I feel nevertheless and allow my mind to put that aside. The cold air slices my face due to the high speed but the pain is worth it if it means that I can see my wife even a second sooner. I can almost picture her waiting by the gates for my arrival and a smile etches itself on my face.

I reach the castle in no time but I can’t help the puzzlement and the slight tinge of disappointment at the lone figure of Shigezane in front of the gates but I hope my indifferent facade masks my true feelings.

“Glad to see you back, Masa!” Shigezane beams at me as he slaps my shoulders. It seems as if his cheerful mood is even more so than ever before, if that’s even possible.

“Mm… thanks.” I nod in response but my mind is elsewhere, head turning left and right in search of someone else.

“Ah, if you’re looking for MC, she asked me to tell you that she will be waiting for you in the kitchen. We’ve received word of your early arrival so she’s probably holed up in there cooking all your favorites, huh?” he teased.

“...Perhaps.” My feet are already carrying me off in the direction of our private kitchen.

“Don’t keep a lady waiting now! Go straight to the kitchen. I’m playing the role of a messenger of love here, you owe me one!” I hear his nonsensical shouts as I walk away. Who knows what’s gotten him into a good mood this time?

As I approach the southern annex, the warmth radiating from the place that melts my heart feels almost tangible. The orange hue from the fires of the hearth and lantern within beckons me to its doorsteps. The loud clanking of plates and scurrying of footsteps to and fro lessen with each step I take. Upon arriving at the door, I hear a sharp intake of breath and then complete silence from the other side as I push open the doors to our private kitchen, secluded from the main castle.

Nothing could've prepared me for the sight before me.

MC is standing in front of the stove in a crisp, white apron that I had recently purchased for her on our rare excursion to town.

And nothing else.

The vision of my scantily clad wife is nothing short of breathtaking. Her cheeks are a fierce pink as if the essence of the chrysanthemums blooming outside bled into her skin. Her eyes are shyly cast down as if her eyelids can’t withstand the weight of her luscious eyelashes, a perfect mirage of twin butterflies perched upon them. Never have I, nor will I, gaze upon a more beautiful woman.

All words fail me. She looks up at me through her lashes but my mouth opens and closes a couple of times with no words actually forming.

“W-welcome home, Lord Masamune. Sorry I wasn’t by the gates…”

“That…” I can’t quite get the words out of my mouth so I clear my throat before continuing, “That’s okay. Ah….” I should say something to acknowledge this situation but what?

Seeing her so bashful, I also can’t meet her eyes. My eyes drift over the area, seeing various plates brimming with prepared delicacies. A rich stew is bubbling in a pot nearby but no matter how delicious they all look, nothing can compare to the surging hunger I feel for MC.

Off to the side, I see a haori coat within arm's reach to her. She must've placed it there in case someone other than I happened to enter and she can quickly cover up. I’m glad for her cautious foresight and wisdom.

My hands immediately fly to the door, slightly fumbling in their haste to secure it locked in case someone else happens to barge in. The old rumor of the demon in my eye eating humans in this very kitchen will no doubt spread again if I end up killing someone tonight who views MC in her current state. I don't even want to think about anyone else seeing her like this, ever. The blood drains from my face at the thought but perhaps it's due it going to another part of my body… I shake my head to clear my mind from such thoughts.

“MC-”

“Milord, you must be so hungry! I’m just about done cooking so just hold on a bit longer! I thought perhaps you’d like to eat me- I MEAN, eat with me in the kitchen today?” MC hastily corrects herself and gets even redder.

“Yes… we can do that.” She cut me off so she must not want to talk about it yet. I will indulge her… for now and see where this is going. I’m still shaken up quite a bit. The object of my desire is standing semi-nude in my kitchen. Is this real life?

Without looking down, I know I’m already painfully hard. I want to take her right here, right now. But I need to control myself. I’m suddenly thankful for the multiple layers of my kimono but lay a discreet hand over my front just in case my excitement overwhelms her.

Then a sudden revelation hits me like the pop of oil from the pan. Did she… Is she doing this for me? I wonder what brought this on.

It's been half a year since we wed and even I haven't had the luxury of escaping the gossip and expectations from castle dwellers and the elderly clansmen on how MC is not yet bearing a son for the future of the Date clan. I can't begin to understand how she must feel as the one whose stomach everyone gazes upon with hopeful eyes. I hope she isn't going forward with such extreme measures of seduction due to the pressure.

I’ve even heard the maids talk about a possibility that I will take a concubine who can provide me with sons. I was so enraged at that moment that I almost alerted them of my presence until Kojuro stopped me. How can they say such a thing when my heart grows to love MC more with each passing day? I can never imagine anyone else by my side or in my bed. She is everything I need and more.

MC walks up to me and helps me slide out of my coat, one arm at a time like a dutiful wife. The tantalizing peeks of pale skin and slender legs afforded to me when she shifts is distracting to say the least.

I can’t help but let my eyes roam to the front of her apron where the material is thin enough to be partially see-through and I can make out the dark hue of her areola as well as the pointy tips of her nipples poking through the rough fabric, eager for attention. I don’t know if I’ve blinked in the last minute but I can’t seem to look away.

I think I’ve stared a bit too long since when I painfully drag my eyes up with conscious effort, she looks ready to burst from redness, which is no doubt reflected in my own skin as well. I put all my efforts into calming my nerves and steading my shaking hands, knowing that my nervousness will in turn make her unsettled even more. I know this the best since seeing her embarrassment always intensifies my own. We truly are alike in many ways.

“Isn’t it dangerous for you to be so close to the stove with so little… well, in your state of… undress?” I can't help but be concerned with different terrifying scenarios. What if she hurts herself? What if a crackling ember landed on her delicate skin or hot water splatters on her?

“Don’t worry, Milord. I’m practically done cooking. I just need to put the finishing touches and we’re good to go,” she says with a smile. She chooses that moment to turn around and I forget how to breathe.

Her backside is completely bare except for the delicate strings tying the apron together at her back and shoulders, her pink skin contrasting with the white apron.

She walks away from me, her cute butt bouncing with each determined step. She starts making small talk as she arranges pickles on a plate but despite her verbal composure, the trembling of her hands betray her and the chopsticks thud against the floor. Without realizing the suggestive position, she unabashedly bends over to pick up them up and all semblance of control evaporate in this suddenly steaming hot den.

That’s enough. I walk up to her and hold her hips in a firm grip.

“L-Lord Masamune?!” she squeaks, losing the timing to stand back up. I can see the goosebumps prickling the skin of her arms so I run my hands up and down her arms as I help her back up.

“Despite the fire, it's still very chilly outside. I wouldn't want you to get sick.” I continue running my hands along her arms and shoulders. “Let me warm you up.” I give a few squeezes to her tense shoulder muscles, happy to see her visibly relaxing, enough to let out a sigh at least. My hand then strays to her bare back, gently rubbing circles before sliding under the fabric and reaching forward to fondle her breasts. MC gasps in surprise and I falter.

“Sorry… stop me if I’m doing something you don’t want me to. I might’ve misread the situation and I won’t get offended.”

“No, you’re fine. Keep going…” MC softly breathes out.

I press firmly against her so there is not a breath of space in between our bodies, no stray wind from outside to come between us and chill her. As I spoon her body with mine, I wonder if she can feel my love for her from my touch, as I'm unable to articulate it in words quite as fluidly as others, such as Shigezane or Kojuro.

I continue to lavish attention on her soft peaks, enjoying the way her stiff nipples stroke against my palms as if to engrave a masterpiece there. My hands trail down and ghost her sensitive ribs, making her tremble simply from the gentle touch. MC haphazardly pushes things aside on the countertop and holds onto the edge for balance while leaning forward, guiding my next step.

“Are you sure you’re okay if I take you here?” I have to ask. How can I call myself a samurai, or even a man, if I force myself on her without permission, even as her husband? I would never be able to treat her with such disrespect.

“Of course, Masamune. I'm always willing to have you.” How can someone look upon me with such warmth and love in her eyes even after knowing all my flaws? I have to be the most blessed man in the world to have found my love, my MC, who I would die a hundred times to protect. Even if we did not have the ties of husband and wife, even if we were not bound together physically, I would still always dedicate my life for this woman since she’s the only woman in my heart, now and forever.

I don’t feel right taking my robes off in such a place so I tug and pull until I free my erection out. Opening her up slightly with my fingers, I press and slide it alongside her slit to see if she’s ready and am confirmed by wetness covering me as I pull out.

Reaching to her front, I bring my fingers down to stimulate her while also slowly grinding against her from behind. Trying to do two things at once really takes a lot of concentration but I like a challenge. She won’t be able to see what my fingers are doing since the apron covers them from her view. I put two fingers inside her without warning and she jerks forward a bit but quickly recovers and brings herself flush against me obediently.

I spread the moisture around her clit and stroke her while kissing her neck reverently. When I feel like she’s almost there, I plunge inside from behind her as she screams my name in pleasure.

“Ah… Masa… ah…” Her hands tighten around the kitchen counter.

“I love you, MC. I love you so much.” All my feelings come surging forth effortlessly as I lose control. I can feel her purposely tightening her inner muscles and my breaths come out in pants. “Nnnng, you make me so happy.”

The string holding the apron together is barely hanging on, the bows coming apart little by little with each thrust. I rather like seeing her partially clothed like this so I don’t push it off all the way. I get flashes of her breasts jiggling back and forth to the rhythm of my pounding and it adds to the excitement.

We’ve had sex countless times by now but things definitely feel different today. In this place with the scent of steamed rice and vinegar of pickled vegetables wafting all around us, in this place that holds precious memories of when I cooked and ate her food when she was still Yahiko to me, in this special place for us two, I make love to her, creating another unforgettable memory.

“Please look at me, MC.” The only downside to this position is that I cannot gaze upon her beautiful face as I take her. I need to see her face to be pushed to the final edge. She turns her head to face me, her slightly misty eyes looking up pleadingly and her bottom lips quivering and I feel myself almost at the brink of release.

I resume my earlier ministrations to her nub with my hand while I slow the pacing of my thrusts until she screams for me. Her knees almost start to give in but I return both hands to hold her still and rock with all my strength until I too come undone.

I support her hips up with one hand while I squeeze her butt with the other while waiting for every last drop to exchange ownership.

I finally let her go and step away but she remains motionless in that position. My eyes widen suddenly and thoughts flood my mind like they tend to do. It can’t be comfortable… I wonder why she’s not uprighting herself. Have I perhaps hurt her in my ardor? Did she hurt her back?

“What’s wrong, MC?” Worry drips from my voice.

“Nothing! It’s just that I don’t want to waste anything you give me… you know...” I can see how stressed she must be deep inside. Despite my initial worry ebbing away, I feel immensely apologetic that my poor MC has to feel this way due to the fact that I’m a clan head. If I was a normal man, she wouldn’t have to feel this burden of hurried conception. I want to assist her in any way that I can.

I crouch down and place a tender kiss on her bottom. Then I slowly ease my finger inside of her, scooping and pushing the escaping remnants of my pleasure back inside with it. I feel a strange sense of primal possessiveness in knowing that I’ve marked her with my essence in a place where no other is invited to and she will be carrying a part of me around in that sacred place.

This strong, kind-hearted woman would be the best mother for our future children. Our kids will grow up with a loving mother vastly different from my own childhood. I hope that all those in Date clan will grow to love her despite her humble upbringing, since she deserves all the respect. I hope that my children will not inherit my monstrous eyes so they may live without insecurities and to not look upon me with fright. I also hope that they will be gifted with MC’s kindness and pure-heartedness so they don’t feel the need to compete with each other.

MC rights herself and whispers her gratitude. I’m not sure what she’s thanking me for since it is I who should be thankful for all that she does for me. I press a kiss against her stomach through the cloth and wrap my arms around her midsection tightly before getting up.

“I actually am quite hungry now… is it too late eat?” I shyly ask. The hunger that I hadn’t felt before engulfs me as I’m suddenly aware of the aroma in the air.

“Never.” Both of our eyes light up and mouths curl into a smile. I see her reaching for the coat and I find myself stopping her.

“I like seeing you like this. If it gets cold, I’ll warm you up again.” She gives a timid nod and I get an urge to keep the fire going in the hearth all night long. I just hope no one comes looking for us.

Tagging: @pseudofaux @rubyleeray @theweatheredwarrior @kitsune-mana @all-my-cuffs-have-buttons @lilster360 @julias1993 @kawa-akarin @dani677 @masamunbae

#My writing #slbp #samurai love ballad party #fanfiction #slbp fanfic #date masamune #slbp masamune #lemon

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