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ssamie · 3 years

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five. similar routines

oikawa tooru x fem langa!reader

(hq x sk8 the infinity)

warnings: spelling mistakes, swearing, 2k+ words, u have langa’s blue hair sorry

gen masterlist. “snow” masterlist.

"you know, oikawa-san.." she started off with a sheepish hum "yes?" oikawa hummed with a smile

"i thought you were only picking me up so we can walk together." she said

"exactly. that's why im here" oikawa said with a chuckle

"so.. why are you in my room so early in the morning?" she deadpanned as she looked at him, as he sat on the foot of her bed "you're here way too early, oikawa-san" she said with a yawn

"well, i thought i'd get to know your mom too since she's also new to the neighbourhood ya know? shes very nice, by the way." oikawa chuckled out

"my.. mom..?" she sent him a weirded out look

"hey! not like that!" oikawa shrieked out "if anything, you'd be the only girl i'd have eyes for, FYI" he said with a wink. "oh.." y/n said with a laugh. "well, it's whatever oikawa-san." she said as she stood up from her bed.

"did you eat breakfast yet? i feel like you have since you're already dressed up and all.."

"but if you haven't, you can eat with me." she offered as she looked at him expectantly by the door

"i ate already, but we can have coffee together" oikawa suggested with a smile as he followed her out "oh. but you'd have to make it since i suck at making coffee." she said "oh come on, you can't be that bad" oikawa mused as he ruffled her already messy blue locks

"i'll drink whatever you make, don't worry" he said

"okay but i warned you." she replied with a sigh

oikawa sent one last fleeting glance to her room before he closed the door. he took note of the snowboards displayed by her wall and her skateboard so delicately situated by her desk. as well as the slightly messy collage of pictures stuck to her wall, most of them being pictures of a redhead.

"oikawa-san?" she called out, looking back to see him lagging behind.

"oh sorry, i'll be right there, y/n-chan!"

"this is coffee is probably more bitter than a rotten ballsack." oikawa muttered to himself as he reluctantly gulped down the beverage.

"did you say something, oikawa-san?" y/n hummed with a smile

"i said this coffee is probably better than any drink there is!" he exclaimed

"really??" y/n asked with sparkling eyes "then i'll make you coffee every morning starting now!" she said with an excited smile

oikawa paled as he watched her relish in the compliment with a smile, it's almost as if she was oozing with sparkles."ah.. y-you don't have to.." oikawa stammered out with a quivering smile

"oh.." her smile fell

oikawa mentally gasped and hastily shook his head "no, i take that back!" he exclaimed "you can make me coffee! in fact, you can make me a gallon everyday if you want!" oikawa rambled with in a frantic tone

"okay, oikawa-san" she smiled "that would mean we'd meet every morning too, haha" she chuckled

oikawa froze at the statement and nodded with an accomplished smile. "yup. sounds good!" he said. he then turned away and dramatically cried a single tear. "so worth it.." he muttered as he sipped on the devil spawn of a drink.

"anyways, should we go?" she asked him. "i can leave my board if you want me to walk with you." she said "no it's fine, i'll just keep up" he said

oikawa hummed to himself as he envisioned the two of them making their way to school. y/n was skating while he holds her hand, the both of them laughing and smiling like two protagonists of a shoujo manga.

"let's go, oikawa-san" she called out to him as she puts on her converse instead of her school shoes and grabbed her board.

"right." oikawa hummed as he happily followed behind, watching her get on the board and placing her phone in her pocket. "you'd keep up with me right?" she asks him "i won't go too fast if you want.."

"no, no. go do your thing, i don't mind~" oikawa cooed with a smile

"okay then." she sent him a smile before fully skating away and leaving a trail of dust behind.

"eh?" oikawa blinked in confusion as he watched her skate in a baffling speed and jumping effortlessly over bumps and obstacles. it was so different from what he's seen the first time he saw her skating to school. he was almost certain she was just one of those mediocre skater girls that everyone likes solely because they're pretty.

"oikawa-san, why aren't you following?!" she yelled from atleast a block away

"huh? well i didn't think you'd leave me behind like that!" oikawa whined as he ran towards her with a huff "you said to do my thing!" she yelled back

"right, right, my bad!" he laughed it off as he patted her back "i'll slow down if you want" she offered with a laugh

"yeah, i'd love that.."

from his front porch, iwaizumi watched them with an unamused look on his face. "flirting already?" he groaned "its seven in the morning, when will i ever get a break from this?"

"wow, didn't think you two would get so close so quickly" hanamaki teased as he pointed to y/n who was fixing the nets

"um can someone help me put this up-"

"oh that? it was pretty easy" oikawa shrugged it off with a smug grin "she just couldn't resist me and my charms, ya know?"

"i'll do it for you, don't worry!" oikawa cut her off as he skipped towards her and proceeded to put the nets up himself

hanamaki sweat dropped as he watched the brunette continue to chat her up while she simply nods along "more like you couldn't resist her.." he sneered. matsukawa joined in as they three in teasing comments to the captain, all while oikawa tries to shut them up.

"hey, let's eat out after practice, y/n-san" yahaba suggested with a flirty smile

"oh, sure.." y/n replied, tilting her head in confusion as his face contorts into one that resembles the handsome squidward. "cool. i'll come." oikawa interjected as he stared yahaba down.

"oh uh- i meant me.. and her.." yahaba sweat dropped

"yknow what, why don't we bring the whole team!" oikawa let out an obnoxiously fake laugh as he announced the plans to the whole gym. "geez. he's down bad" matsukawa said to hanamaki as the latter nodded along

"jesus christ, that dumbass.." iwaizumi sighs as he watched oikawa subtly give yahaba more tasks than the others

"are you free later iwaizumi-san?" y/n asks him as she hesitantly tugged on his sleeve. iwaizumi raised a brow and nodded. "yeah, why? did you need something?" he asked

"i know i said i'll stop trying but i still wanna know how to play volleyball" she said "can you teach me? coach said you're the ace"

"oh sure" iwaizumi gave her a thumbs up "but didn't shittykawa teach you already?"

"it didn't really work" she frowned "maybe you'd be a better teacher". iwaizumi sweat dropped as he heard a dramatic gasp followed by a thud from afar. he didn't even need to turn around to know that it was oikawa.

"sure, i'll teach you the basics" iwaizumi sent her a grin. "thank you!" she exclaimed happily before walking off and doing her work

"iwa-chan, you traitor!" oikawa exclaimed as he tried to tackle him down, only to be blocked by iwaizumi's arm. "shut up. its not my fault you can't even teach her how to hit a damn ball" iwaizumi rolled his eyes

"i can, okay! it's just her..." oikawa chuckled sheepishly "she doesn't know how to hit it properly"

"huh." iwaizumi hummed "maybe she's right, maybe you're just a shitty teacher."

"you'll see for yourself!"

"i can finally play volleyball!" she announced excitedly as she munched down on her food "really? how'd you learn that?" kindaichi mused with a soft laugh

"iwaizumi-san taught me! he's really good" she said with sparkling eyes

oikawa spluttered as he felt an imaginary arrow pierce his chest. "ah.. that's.. that's great y/n.. good job" he squeaked out with a quivering smile. "maybe you're right.. maybe i was just a shitty teacher" oikawa shamefully admitted to iwaizumi

beside her, oikawa silently sulked as he gloomily nibbled on his burger. "oikawa-san, i can finally serve too" she told him with a smile

"glad you're aware" iwaizumi snickered. "anyways, i'm gonna go ahead" iwaizumi said as he stood up and stretched. "i have a shit ton of work to do so i'll leave ya guys to it"

"iwaizumi-san, won't you walk with us?" y/n asked him "we're neighbours too right?"

"ah actually, sure-" iwaizumi cut himself off as he caught a glimpse of oikawa looming over her shoulder

the brunette was giving him an exaggerated frown, paired with his 'puppy dog eyes' and even some tears for the effect. its not that iwaizumi was swayed by the expression. frankly, he just didn't want to look at it any longer so he denied.

"actually.. you guys can walk together. i think my mom needs me now. stay safe though" he said. y/n nodded and waved him off while oikawa send him a grateful smile and a wave. iwaizumi simply flipped him off and waved the rest goodbye.

"so, anything else you want, y/n-chan?" oikawa cooed as he watched her chomp down her meal

"milkshake.." y/n muttered with a delighted look on her face. "milkshake it is!" oikawa exclaimed. he then turned to yahaba who was grumbling by the corner and grinned.

"cmon then, yahaba-kun~ she said she wanted a milkshake! chop chop!" oikawa chuckled. yahaba rolled his eyes but pulled out his wallet anyways. "why am i getting treated like this?" he silently sulked

"well you were the one who invited us after all" oikawa mused. "i invited y/n, not all of you!" yahaba whined

by the side, hanamaki and matsukawa simply watched, sneering and laughing to themselves while they ate. "this is gonna be a long night" hanamaki let out a sigh "who cares? yahaba's treating us" matsukawa shrugged

"i never said that!" yahaba shrieked out

"how do you feel?" oikawa asked her. "full.." she replied with a satisfied sigh "thanks for inviting me, everyone" she said

"no problem, y/n-senpai!" kindaichi replied as he and kunimi waved her goodbye "bye guys!" the rest of them said as the team dispersed to their own routes.

"guess its just us now" oikawa mused as he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. "right." y/n nodded as she slowly skated beside him

"sure, oikawa-san. i'd like that" she smiled

"let's walk together tomorrow too" oikawa suggested. "i'll invite iwa if you want"

"this'll be like our routine from now on" oikawa cheered "us three will be best friends in no time" he sent her a wink

"best friends.." she muttered "i already-"

"-have a best friend, i know" oikawa finished her sentence with a laugh "it's fine to have more than one best friend, ya know?" he mused

"more than one.." she hummed thoughtfully "someone other than reki..?" she muttered to herself

she looked down at her feet and her board, then back at oikawa and the slightly starry sky. it was quite similar to the daily routine she has with reki. skating together to school, eating out, and skating back home. it provided her a strange sense of deja vu.

"that sounds nice." she said with a smile

oikawa smiled back and put his hands behind his head as he walked. "yeah it does." he agreed

"i look forward to being best friends with you guys" she said

sorry for the spelling / grammar mistakes if there are any :<

"me too, y/n."

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emilycollins00 · 3 years

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Muku + Azami headcanons

For lovely @skateboarding-poet!

It’s my first time writing a rareship but I had so much fun! These two are just so precious, I love them to pieces. Please enjoy! 💕

This ship is basically nonchalantic innocence meets bubbly dreamland and is gorgeous.

Azami might not get why Muku likes reading shojo so much, but while he can feel he’s going to hell just from hearing all the indecent things his boyfriend has read... he won’t judge too much overall.

Muku likes them and they are important to him, so now they are important to Azami too within certains limits of course

Others are not extended the same courtesy though, a.k.a Sakyo

Both of his personalities are pretty calm and chill so whenever they go on dates it’s all about walking around Veludo to shop for make-up and books, visiting animal cafes or just staying at the dorm in each other’s rooms.

Muku adores listening to Azami’s voice. He also discovers Azami tends to hum whenever he’s in a good mood so the summer troupe member will usually peak over the manga he’s reading, his heart skipping a beat at the soft sounds.

I also feel like Azami is not really one to expect praises out of nowhere, so when Muku starts compliment him -as the ball of sunshine he is with no filter whatsoever-.

“...Need something?”

“Oh,no! I was just thinking I really love your eyes Azami-kun, they are beautiful!”

Azami can never anticipate those and becomes an absolute mess.

On a similar note I don’t think Azami is a looks person as much as he is a personality person, but he can’t deny just how pretty Muku is??

Everyone in Mankai can see his eyes softening while unconciously staring at the pink-haired helping Izumi with the dishes or laughing at Misumi’s antics and it’s so blatantly clear how in love he is.

Kisses are too much for Azami’s heart at the beginning of their relationship though, maybe a peck on the cheeks in private but he’s NOT a pervert okay??

The first time Muku ever reached out to held Azami’s hand, boy swore his heart stopped.

“Wha-! A-at least wait until we are married dammit!”

“R-right, I’m sorry! I just thought that- um, your hands always look so soft b-but of course my hands are sweaty and they-”

Before he finishes, a pinkie intertwines with his. Muku has never seen the boy’s ears in such a red color “Azami-kun?”

“Just don’t look at me, okay?. God this is so...”

After the initial shock, Muku squeezes back giggling.

Later that night, both are still glancing at their own pinkies in their respective rooms and im soft about it.

Of course the whole yakuza family knows Muku by now wouldn’t expect less and you better believe that boy will be protected for life. The Sakisaka’s also adore Azami who brings them the best skin products choosen with the utmost care.

Muku asking opinion to Azuma, Yuki and Sakoda gift ideas for Azami for being always so attentive but he’s so lost.

CDs?? Make up? ah, but make up is expensive, and what if he already has them or worst what if he hates them or-

In the end he makes wool felt dolls of them with Omi’s help.

“A-as I thought it’s really childish, right? I’m sorry I should have just-!”

“Are they for me”

“Uh?”

“The dolls” Azami takes the one that looks like Muku and glances at the young boy.

“Oh! um- yeah!”

The dolls are now sitting next to each other in his desk and NO ONE is allowed to touch them.

Anyway, Muku going starry-eyed whenever he sees Azami’s skills in action.

Also, whenever Azami gets injured or he just genuinely feels tired from rehearsals, Muku takes his hand unconsciously and places a kiss on it and Azami becomes a blushing mess right away.

But in general Muku knows just how reserved Azami is in the romantic aspect and won’t push him out of his comfort zone until he’s comfortable.

Still, Azami will be more likely to show PDA if he senses Muku needs a comforting presence, tiny kisses in his forehead are a must.

All in all it’s a quiet and slow love, but neither of them would change it for anything.

Extra!

Azami had never been good at showing his feelings, or at least that’s what he heard from others since he was young- deadpan face was it?- he didn’t remember much.

Reality though was quite the opposite. He always seemed to feel too much, respond too quick in waves of emotions. His determination and strong fuse if pressed wrongly often gave him troubles so he opted to lay low, or at least, that was before he entered Mankai.

And then- god, then there was Muku, who had amplified those feelings beyond what he thought it was possible.

Much to Azami’s own surprise due to their evident views on love and its approach, the pink-haired boy had become someone who was eager to learn everything about him, who accepted both the good and the bad. Someone who accepted his passion and pride.

“Azami-kun, you are amazing!”

Of course he had fallen in love.

. .

It was a fuzzy feeling whenever lights were out for the day and Azami still got messages from the young summer member, even if they had said their goodbyes half an hour ago before heading to their respectives rooms. It was the Muku who started them most of the time, usually to rant on him about the last story he was reading in a failed attempt to warm Azami up towards that hell of a perverted genre, but he would lie if he said he hadn’t gotten used to them.

His phone vibrates, a light signaling a new message once again.

What do you think, won’t you consider it? It’s one of the best I’ve read!

Azami rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond smile on his face. His thumb scrolls down softly over the five continuous paragraphs -new record, he also noticed- that consisted the review of Muku’s manga before texting back.

Already told you. Just find me one where there’s no kissing, holding hands or any of that perverted stuff you and that shitty old man enjoy and then I’ll read it.

He could practically visualize the pout forming on Muku’s face as he read his response.

But that kind of shojo manga isn’t romantic at all!

He chuckles. Being in a relationship before marriage was something he had swore wouldn’t happen to him. But his feelings for Muku were real, and he wouldn’t changed them for the world.

Checking the time, he saw it was getting late- they shouldn’t cut more hours for their skin to rest. He was about to write back to notify Muku of his plans to go to sleep when he saw an audio. Turquoise eyes frowned as he tilted his head confused. Muku had never sent him audios before, mainly because they saw each other every day.

He laid back, resting his head on the pillow and clicked on it, vaguely curious.

There it was, that characteristic bubbly voice Azami had learned to distinguish, quieted down probably to not bother Kazunari. Just what-?

“Sweet dreams, Azami-kun”

He definitely jolted and quickly turned to Sakyo’s side, containing his breath until he noticed the annoying snores from his bed. All compose had left him in those three seconds the audio lasted, and Azami swears his chest did a backflip on its own.

“What the hell...?”

Muku really wasn’t aware of the weigh of his own words.

He stares at the phone, his mind registering what had just happened. Then, as if in a trance, he’s barely aware of his actions before his finger presses the audio again- just one more time.

“Sweet dreams, Azami-kun”

One more time.

“Sweet dreams, Azami-kun”

One more time.

“Sweet dreams-”

One more time.

He could feel the sound of his smile over the phone. The way he drew out his name, so full of affection. His tone was warm and light, and how was he supposed to sleep now, Azami didn’t know.

Groaning, the autumn member covers his face with the back of his hand. Shit, he’s so embarrassed he can feel the heat growing on his cheeks and ears.

He rolls on the bed, taking a quick glance at the few photos of Mankai Omi gave him once to decorate the empty wall. A special warmth showers Azami when he makes contact with those purple eyes, always gentle. They looked back at him with a softness he had rarely encountered before and a smile that made his heart once again leap on his chest.

Oh, he was so done.

“He’s gonna kill me…he’s gonna fuckin’ kill me…”

And yet, he played it once again.

__________________________________________________________

Wishing everyone a wonderful day! 💕

#a3 act addict actors #a3 #a3 act #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! azami #a3! muku #muku sakisaka #azami izumida #mukuaza

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jeonjeonggukenergy · 5 years

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Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut (coming in ch3!) - college!au

wordcount ~ 2.3k

warnings ~ pretty much n/a, mentions of drinking and light smut

a/n ~ v excited for these lil dorks! i thought about combining this with the upcoming chapter but it felt right on its own and i wanted to go ahead and post an update for yall haha. ch 3 will most definitely have some serious smut to look forward to 👀 thank yall for reading, i love and appreciate any form of support or feedback so so much, so feel free to msg me or send me an ask abt whatever you want! 🥰 hope u enjoy this chapter!!!

previous: chapter 1 ~ next: chapter 3 | chapter 4 (coming soon!)

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 2 ~ cowboy bebop & chill

You couldn't stop thinking about Jungkook. Every time you brought the enamel of your favorite mug to your lips, teeth knocking the rim as you exhaled to cool off your tea, it called back the click of his earrings in your mouth. Whenever you reached behind your ear to tuck away the hair you'd impulsively cropped to your chin this year, it hit the same spot you'd sucked into a bruise on his neck and you shivered. Even your slight headache thanks to the shitty vodka from the pregame reminded you of the wine you'd sought out from him in the first place and never fucking got to drink.

You found yourself reading over your responses to each other's discussion posts from your film class, trying to find any more justification for this sudden crush than the drunken flirtation that mortified you as soon as you remembered it sober. He did seem to like your directness...but you could easily ascribe that to his similarly loosened-up state. Scanning through your reflections on The Shawshank Redemption and Casablanca, you painstakingly overanalyzed every smiley face and "I loved that part too!" Could he have been into you at all before this? Or had he just eyed you for another quick fuck at a party? Shit, what if he hated you for working him up and then leaving? If he wanted to, you knew he would have easily found someone else to finish the night with. But what if he still held it against you? The image of him bitterly turning aside to find another girl in the crowd, with your hickey still fresh on his jaw, turned your stomach more than you wanted to admit.

Shaking your head with a grounding exhale, you reminded yourself that whoever else he did or didn't hook up with was none of your business. Plus, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy and probably didn't hate you in the first place. Wow, the bar really was so fucking low. Maybe that was part of the reason you were never that bold with boys. Every classmate you'd fallen for so far at college had remained innocently unaware of your feelings, likely because you never worked up the courage to clearly express them. You hadn't even been trying this time, though—this semester had been so busy you'd barely had time for your friends, much less crushes. And now your one blowoff class had become your biggest distraction.

Jungkook, a communications & media major, couldn't afford to lose as much focus in this class as you. Normally near front-and-center, he sat all the way in the corner of the last row, wary of imaginary stares burning through the hopefully-opaque-enough curtain of his hair. Even the risk of zoning out staring at the back of your head stressed him out less than the thought of you doing the same to him.

You walked into class through the back right entrance today so you'd pass Jungkook in the front row, though you could have gone straight to your usual left-side seat from the main door. Knowing you'd never summon the courage to talk to him, you still couldn't help wanting to see his face. You didn't know just what you were looking for—some kind of confirmation or dismissal that would let you just move on with your dry-ass life—but any reason to catch a glimpse of Jungkook was a good one. Today, though, he sat far closer to the entrance than you'd expected, and his proximity stopped you in your tracks a few feet behind him. Eyes dragging down the sculpted form under his soft black sweatsuit, your stare traced the veins in his forearms to reach the hands in his lap. Catching a half-page cartoon ass in your view of the manga he gazed at intently, a snort-laugh escaped you, the sound setting him on high alert. He snapped the book shut, spinning around with eyes wide and still-long hair an understandable mess for a Monday.

"I'm so—"

"I'm so sorry!"

You both shoved out the words at the same time.

A pause swelled between you, eye contact maintained as your mouths fluttered open and shut like fish. Even awkward and off-guard like this, he was just so damn pretty. It felt unreasonable for him to seem as flustered around you as you were around him. Finally, you spoke again, solely to force the conversation forward and put you both out of your misery.

"W-what do you have to be sorry for? I'm the one who, like—ugh, I was drunk, I'm so sorry, I never would have been so, yknow, if I was sober, like that's not me I promise, I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or—"

"No-no-no-no-no!" Jungkook cut you off, dismissing your barely intelligible apology. Before you could cut him off in return and continue, he held up both hands between you, his eyebrows knit together in a pleading expression. "Are you kidding me? Seriously, I feel so bad, I was kind of drunk too, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable! Please, you have nothing to worry about, it was, uh...I was...good...if...you were." He grew shyer as he continued, drifting off as a hand reached back to rub his neck. A light laugh. "You did make me have to keep my hair long for another few days, though. It's gotten so annoying to take care of, I was planning on cutting it right after the costume."

This admission perked up all your earlier curiosities about him, and a cautious smile spread over your face as Jungkook unconsciously reminded you that he was, in fact, a total dork, rather than the fuckboy you'd irrationally feared him to be.

"Wait, hold up," you snorted again. Gently. "You're telling me you grew out your hair for three, maybe four, months...for a Cowboy Bebop costume?"

"Hey, it was free and way less lame than a wig," he defended himself. Crossing his arms over his chest, he fidgeted uncomfortably, face blushing into a grin as you continued to giggle at him.

"You are such a fucking weeb," you accused lightheartedly.

Jungkook furrowed his brows back together, an anxious hand grazing the spot where you'd marked him again. "Well, you recognized my Spike costume, at least," he pouted. "You're not all innocent."

"I watched one episode with my friend, and it was dubbed," you downplayed. "Isn't watching dubs instead of subs a crime for real anime fans?"

"Actually," his eyes lit up at your rhetorical question. "The dub of Cowboy Bebop is excellent. It's pretty universally considered better than watching the OG with subs. You're right though, that is the general rule."

"Oh man, who knew." Looking down, grinning, you tried to hide how endeared you were by his earnestness. "Well, it was pretty cool, not gonna lie. I guess I kind of get the appeal."

"Would you want to start watching the rest sometime? That's one I just never get tired of," he blurted, then blushed, closing his mouth and working his lips between his teeth as his eyes stayed wide and on you. Jungkook's heart accelerated in his chest, a fist opening and closing at his hip as he tried to decide whether he regretted taking a chance on the question.

You instantly diverted all your mental energy from hoping he couldn't sense your attraction to massively overthinking your response. This was a "Netflix and chill" kind of invite, right? If he wanted you, of course you wanted him, but you had to be sure before you did something else stupid and risked having to find another discussion board buddy.

"Um...yeah, sure," you accepted. "I have to ask, though, do you mean, like...Cowboy Bebop and chill?" You raised an eyebrow, trying to look bolder than you felt. "Or...Cowboy Bebop and just...Cowboy Bebop?"

"I..." Mirroring your playful grin, Jungkook shrugged, not wanting to look like a fuckboy if he answered with the first option but also wondering—were you actually interested in watching this anime with him? The possibility puzzled him, the same way it confused you how he could go bold and then back to his shy weeb-ass self within seconds. You shrugged too, with an anxious exhale of a laugh.

"That was...weird to just say like that, sorry. We can just see where it goes, whatever you want," you backtracked, full of faux-nonchalance. The Google Calendar schedule on your phone suddenly became very interesting. "We could do another day if that works for you, but I'm free after this class once I write my discussion post—I don't have any other homework or meetings today for once."

He nodded quickly, eyebrows up. Swallowing, Jungkook saw the opportunity to show a little more initiative and seized it. "We could do that together even, 'cause we usually jump off each other anyway. So you can come over right after class if you want." He glanced up and to the left for a quick mental inventory. "Oh shit, wait, but I seriously need to clean my apartment first, can we do more like dinner time tonight? You can just come over for ramen or takeout if you want, or eat first or whatever."

"Yeah, that's fine!" you agreed warmly. "Ramen and homework, two birds with one scone. I should probably, like...get your number? So you can send me your address when you're ready or something?" You didn't want to sound too desperate, especially since you knew he was used to it, but you found yourself weirdly excited to experience something he so obviously loved. If you got dicked down too, even better, but you were definitely willing to wait on that part, especially now that this first sober conversation had restored your inhibitions. He had this slightly shy sweetness about him that just made you want to make him happy somehow. You wanted to see more of his cheesy little smile. You wanted to hear the bright laugh that occasionally rang out at the most inappropriate times, during Citizen Kane or attendance. You wanted to watch his light pink lips fall open in bliss as you kissed down his sensitive neck to the trim of his worn-in hoodie...

"Yeah sure, here." The quick touch of his hand over yours snapped you out of your thoughts as he took your phone, ready to type in his number, and—

"Wait, did you say 'two birds with one scone'? Not 'one stone'?"

You blushed furiously. Somehow him calling you out on your quirks embarrassed you more than the indecent daydream he'd interrupted. "Okay, so I saw this tweet a while back where they said 'feed two birds with one scone' to replace 'kill two birds with one stone,' I think it was just some vegan troll being all like 'don't talk about killing birds!' but it stuck with me because I just really fucking love scones."

"You...really fucking love scones?" he repeated in slight sarcasm, eyes down on your phone. You grew even shyer, but continued.

"Yeah, I bake a lot and they're my favorite thing to make. The flavor possibilities are endless and they last for days so I just keep them on hand for breakfast and snacks and to give out to friends. And they go with tea, which is my other favorite thing." Ooh, was he a tea person? Should you bring some tonight? Something earthy, to go with your ramen. Your go-to green sencha, or maybe chrysanthemum? Chamomile?

Jungkook held your phone back out in front of you, but waited silently for you to notice, enjoying the view of wheels turning in your head as you pondered tea pairings. This was the you he was used to, daydreaming in class and going on tangents as dorky as his in discussions. Even from a distance, he'd noticed you consistently gave off a vibe somewhere between absentminded professor and grandma, and this confirmation made you even cuter to him. But the hair still falling over his ears wouldn't let him forget his new physical proof of another side to you.

You finally collected your phone with a mumbly "Oh right, yeah, cool, thanks," that you prayed sounded more chill to him than it did to you.

"I just texted myself, so I have your number too now, and I'll just send you my address when I'm ready, and, uh...yeah!" he rambled a bit in response.

You nodded, confirming. "I'll see you tonight!"

"Yeah, see you tonight."

Jungkook watched you walk to your desk, silently admiring your ass and allowing himself only a moment to savor the memory of half of it filling his hand. A strange nervousness tingled through him. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about you all weekend either, and now he had a chance to get closer to you than ever before. He hoped, more than he could remember hoping for anything else, that this would go well, one way or another. He had no idea what you wanted with him, but you had him questioning everything he'd thought he wanted. Easing open his laptop, he pulled up your last discussion board response to him, signed off with a smiley face but backwards.

I like the way you think. (:

He turned his head to read it right-side-up, letting his face scrunch into a smile you wouldn't see.

Meanwhile, though the film thrilled you, you struggled to stay facing forward for the duration of class. You suspected the plot of Rear Window was simply unsettling you, but you swore you could feel Jungkook's eyes on your back. No, he was probably actually watching the movie as usual, or reading his manga if not. You were definitely just being paranoid. Definitely. Probably. Right?

next chapter

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #bts fic #college!jungkook #college au!jungkook #bts college au #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts imagine #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #my writing #anti-hero #anti hero

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brokutosan · 4 years

Text

Title. How Do You Mend When You’re Worlds Apart? (We Carry On)

Pairing. Iwaizumi Hajime x Fem!Reader

Summary. In which long distance is hard. Inspired by the song ‘Make It Better’ by Anderson Paak.

Warnings. Pure angst, also doesn’t have much dialogue. Manga spoilers up to the latest chapters and strong language included. Title is a line from the song ‘Make It Better’ by Anderson Paak.

In highschool, Iwaizumi and Y/N were inseparable. Wherever one is, chances are the other is nearby. They were the perfect model couple, proof that highschool sweethearts aren’t always doomed to be just that. Maybe it’s because both were equally mature, or maybe it’s because of the fact that the two of them kept Oikawa on a leash, but anything the world threw at them, the two felt ready for it.

So when Iwaizumi decided to purue his dreams across the ocean, she was fine with it. And so were all of their friends. If anyone could handle long distance, it would be Iwaizumi and Y/N. Because they were Iwaizumi and Y/N, and Iwaizumi and Y/N were inseparable.

Turns out putting an entire ocean between an inseparable couple could, in fact, separate them. Iwaizumi and Y/N became Iwaizumi, student at UC Irvine, and Y/N, student at Tokyo University. The distance between them grew harder to ignore over time.

It wasn’t something that happened overnight. And to be fair, they lasted a good three years making it work before going down the hell hole of late night (or morning, for one of them) arguments and distrust clouding their judgements. After a while, the two realize that the distance has taken its toll on them. Y/N thinks that it’s because they’re too used to being around each other, but now that they’re not, they’ve become more sensitive to even the tiniest matters. Iwaizumi thinks it’s all just bad communication.

Either way, anyone could tell that they’re only uselessly holding onto something that’s very clearly broken. Perhaps it’s the fact that they’ve already put in over six years into their relationship, and that giving it up now would mean giving up those six long years together. And no one wants to be the one that says, “Yeah, I wasted six long years with an idiot only for it to all go down the drain.”

Y/N first realizes this was the case after a night of drinking with her college classmates. She definitely had too much alcohol in her system that night, but she’s always been the type to be hyper aware of her surroundings. She wasn’t the type to do something she knows she would regret the morning after.

Her first explosive fight with Iwaizumi happens a few hours after she drunk herself under the table, at around three in the morning (or dinner time for Iwaizumi). Y/N made sure to be responsible enough to get herself home safe, under her own sheets, but Iwaizumi thought different. Y/N spent the following hours until her first class to explain to her enraged boyfriend that no, that woman in the background of Takahiro’s snapchat story sucking some douchebag’s face off isn’t me!

The months that follow that catalystic event were spent like they were walking through a minefield, any small argument setting off a bigger one that usually ended in tears. At one point Y/N was nearly tempted to throw her phone out the window and completely cut off connections with Iwaizumi, but knowing him, he’d probably catch the first flight back home just to chew her ear off.

What seems to be the worst fact of it all is that they were never like that in the beginning. But at this point there’s no more going back. It’s like they’re stuck in a burning car, but they don’t want to jump out. They’re only options are to just try and put out the flames or wait for the car to crash and burn.

Today is no different.

Y/N is invited by her old highschool friends, Matsukawa and Hanamaki, to go out for drinks. Y/N complies because no one would refuse a free dinner and drinks. But as she steps out her apartment, dressed casually enough but still putting in a little effort in her appearance, Y/N receives a facetime call from none other than Iwaizumi himself, who looks more pissed off than usual.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asks as she notices his frown, genuinely concerned.

“Are you going somewhere?” Iwaizumi evades the question. Oh well. She expected this. Y/N has known her boyfriend long enough to know that there really is something wrong, he’s just too pissy to admit it.

“Yeah. With Takahiro and Issei.” She replies curtly, grabbing her purse and house keys from the side table and unlocking the door. Iwaizumi freezes, not saying anything. Y/N almosts hangs up thinking it’s due to poor connection, until he speaks up again.

“Oh. Nevermind then.” What the fuck? Y/N thinks to herself, though has half the mind to know not to say it out loud. Instead she says, “If there’s something bothering you, just tell me. Hiro and Issei can wait.” Her offer is met by another few seconds of silence, before Iwaizumi sighs and says, “No, it’s fine. Have fun. Stay safe.” The - once usual - ‘I love you’ is lost somewhere, probably amidst his pride and whatever the fuck was bothering him.

As he ends the call, Y/N decides to press any further. Lately she’s realized that the best way to prevent arguments with him was to just ignore the things bothering her. Destructive? Definitely. But is it effective? One hundred percent. Y/N argues that it’s the lesser of two evils, and if one of those evils is a furious Iwaizumi, then she’d rather take her chances with whatever’s the other option.

The whole commute to the izakaya she agreed to meet her friends in is filled with a mental dilemma of whether or not she should call him back. And she stays that way ‘til she gets to the place and Matsukawa, the attentive bastard, is asking her, “Why do you look like shit?”

“Damn, you really hate the thought of seeing us that much?” Hanamaki adds on, because Hanamaki and Matsukawa come in pair and when one is teasing you, then chances are the other one is too.

“Kinda regretting it now. Is it too late to turn back?” Y/N jokes, but is only ushered over by her two smirking friends. Y/N, despite her contempt, complies and sits down on one end of the booth.

“You can’t run away from us. Like you physically can’t. You love us too much.” And she hates how much she knows he’s right, but she’s not telling them that because they’ll never let her live it down.

“Disgusting. Someone kill me right now.” Y/N fake gags, smiling at the waiter as he passes by with a weird look on his face. Hanamaki and Matsukawa laugh, before Hanamaki’s face straightens into a serious look.

“Oh yeah, did Iwaizumi tell ‘ya yet?” He mentions nonchalantly. Y/N wants to say, ‘no, because talking to that moron only makes my head hurt,’ but she doesn’t, mostly because they’d probably obsessively worry over it. Instead she says, “Tell me what?”

They share a look.

“Wait, seriously? I thought you’d be the first to know.” It’s Matsukawa that speaks up first, with a bewildered look on his face. “I mean no offense but aren’t you two usually the lovey dovey jackasses that can’t keep secrets from each other?”

“Yeah. I’m still not over you telling him about my Hatsune Miku shrine.” Hanamaki adds, though it’s unappreciated by Matsukawa, who throws him a dirty look and a, “What the fuck, man. Stop bringing that shit up.” Hanamaki looks at his friend with ‘hurt’ laced in his face before firing back, “Stop disrespecting my wife, asshole!”

“Are you two done?”

The two supposed grown men halt their little ‘back-and-forth,’ and Hanamaki perks up again remembering the previous topic at hand.

“Oh yeah! So Iwaizumi really didn’t tell you?” She could only shake her head ‘no,’ taking a sip of the mediocre beer in her hands. She makes a mental note to remind herself never to let Hanamaki pick which izakaya they’re going to.

“You’re both pissing me off, what did he not tell me?” Y/N grumbles, growing impatient. It could just be because the beer is far too stale for her taste. Why is this place still open?

“Apparently Oikawa went to visit him two days ago and the two idiots had a big fight. I heard it almost got physical this time.” So that’s wny he looked so pissed off earlier. Lately the only facial features he’s shown her are anger and discontent, so maybe she thought nothing of it when he did it again just an hour ago. She feels horrible, but not too much.

“Something about Oikawa not taking his bad knee seriously enough. Honestly I think Iwaizumi got mad because he’s been studying about it for three years now.” Hanamaki adds, raising his glass to ask for another cup of beer. Y/N doesn’t care as much anymore about the shitty beer, but she still gives him a weird look for being so into it.

“Oh.” Arguments be damned, Y/N still had to save face. If anyone were proud supporters of her and Iwaizumi’s relationship, it’s these two idiots arguing over a meme on Hanamaki’s phone right across the table. She racks her brain for any plausible excuse as to why she wasn’t made aware of something this big, but her mind drew a blank.

“It is kinda weird you weren’t the first to find out. Granted we had to find out from Oikawa, but if anything I was sure Iwaizumi would’ve already went crying to you.” Hanamaki muses. Oh no. Y/N knows that tone, and when Hanamaki, of all people, uses it...then she’s thoroughly fucked.

“Is there something you’re not telling us?” Matsukawa completes. Y/N tries not to laugh at the fact that they still try to complete each other’s sentences, despite the fact that they were just arguing about which Spongebob meme is better just a few seconds ago.

“Nothing, really. I haven’t really gotten the chance to check in on Hajime, with exams and all.” Y/N lies through her teeth. They were just arguing three days ago about something Y/N can’t even remember now.

“Uh huh, sure. Let me know when you pull your head out of your ass.” Hanamaki retorts. Y/N resists the urge to reach over the table and wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

“Shut up, blondie.”

“Uh, that’s strawberry blondie to you.”

“You’re both completely going off topic. Y/N, why didn’t Iwaizumi tell you anything?” Matsukawa leans over the table, wearing that unreadable facial expression he used to wear back in highschool, during a match, going up for a block. Y/N momentarily thinks how fortunate she is for not being one of those they’ve went against in highschool.

“Shouldn’t you be asking Hajime that?”

“We should, but he’s not here right now. You are. I mean you two were always like two halves of one whole, right?” Hanamaki presses on, forgetting all about their previous argument. She lets his words settle in. Two halves of one whole, huh? Suddenly Y/N is brought back to one of their most recent arguments. About their future together. Or lack of one.

Y/N looks down at her stale mug of beer, feeling hypnotized by the amber color that’s reflecting her face with a look of concern. Though she has no reason to be. Ever since getting into a relationship with Hajime, and faling into the same crowd, most conversations around her usually revolved around the topic of their relationship. It never bothered her before, so why is it bothering her now?

And it hits her. Not as a life changing revelation, but rather something she’s always known deep, deep, deep down.

That just like how she’s been needlessly obsessing over the horrible tasting beer, she’s been needlessly clinging onto something that’s not there anymore. Just like how despite this izakaya being their usual meeting place whenever they found the time to hang out, the beer tasted different today, of all days. Just like how now, Y/N finally snaps herself awake and completely understand that her and Iwaizumi, just aren’t in love anymore.

They tried, the past few months filled with arguments being a testament to how they fought tooth and nail to salvage what’s left of a bygone feeling.

Right. The argument. Three weeks ago, Iwaizumi had called her a few hours past midnight in Tokyo, excited to reveal that “Yes! I’m going to start my internship with Takashi Utsui right after graduation!” And instead of being excited for him too, Y/N picked a fight. That one was totally her fault, she admits. She pressed him on the importance of their relationship, on the importance of distance, and how the one between them is slowly eating them alive. Iwaizumi cut off communication with her for a week, before Y/N finally apologized only for them to be amidst another argument now, just two weeks later.

Y/N realizes she’s been quiet for too long, when the noise of the izakaya draws back in and she’s rudely brought back to her senses by an annoyed Matsukawa snapping his fingers in front of her face. “Are you okay?”

The question lets loose an abundance of emotions, some she can’t quite put a finger on, but she knows is bothering her. It’s been too long since someone checked in on her like that, so genuinely. So concerned. Oh god. Was she turning into a touch starved idiot like Oikawa?

“Uh, I - I don’t know.” Is her pathetic response. The two men in front of her share another look, before Hanamaki simply sighs, “We’ll drop it, sorry. You can talk when you’re ready.”

And as if a switch has been flipped, they fall into a smoother conversation, one about school and their social lives. How Hanamaki heard that Yahaba and Kyoutani went to New York together for God knows why, and how Kindaichi’s finally starting for his Division 2 team. Y/N, on the other hand, can’t seem to focus. Perhaps it’s the thing she was thinking about earlier. Okay. It’s definitely that.

Eagerly, Y/N shoots up and slings her bag over her shoulders, muttering, “Sorry, I have to go.”

“Pay for your drinks, cheapass!” Hanamaki half-jokingly calls out, also standing up. Matsukawa grabs his wrist, seemingly understanding something and leaving the strawberry blonde out of the loop.

“Don’t. I think this might just be serious.”

Upon stepping back into the comfort of her room, Y/N turns on her phone, fingers hovering just above the call button. She was so sure of it before, at the izakaya, but now that she’s had time to think, she doesn’t know what to say.

Wait - no, she’s breaking up with him. That’s for sure. She’s not exactly confident she could take another second being in ticking time bomb of a relationship, but how does she even begin the conversation? Iwaizumi was her first everything, and that might just include first break up. How do people even do this? She feels like she’s about to rip the guy’s heart out of his chest, and that’s not something she could live with.

Fuck it, Y/N thinks to herself as she presses the call button. Iwaizumi picks up after three rings, voice grumpy as ever. “Yeah?” Now Y/N feels like a bitch for doing this over a phone call. But it’s not like she could book a flight to California with the money she doesn’t exactly have, just to break up with her boyfriend of six years. So she improvises.

“Can you get on Skype?”

She hears rustling on the other end of the call, and the telltale sound of a zipper being unzipped. “Sure.”

A few moments later, she’s connected to the call, and now that she’s looking directly at Iwaizumi’s face through her laptop screen, does Y/N finally realize what she’s about to do. Before the guilt could even start to settle in, Iwaizumi opens his mouth and starts the conversation.

“I thought you were going out.” He states, face still scrunched up into that nasty scowl from earlier. Knowing the reason behind it, a fight with his best friend, Y/N isn’t as bothered by it. Okay maybe it’s bothering her. Dumping him while he’s down? She didn’t even know she was capable of something so heinous.

“I was out. I just got back home though.”

“Oh.” He looks like he wants to press further, but something’s holding him back. The same something that’s been causing him to lash out for the past few months. Y/N doesn’t miss the conflicted look on his face, nor does she miss the sigh that he lets out. Good. He’s just as exhausted as she is. Might make this a whole lot easier.

“Is there a reason why you wanted to call?” He offers an olive branch first, and Y/N happily accepts it. “Yeah, actually, there is.” She gulps, probably hard enough for him to hear, but her nerves are starting to get the best of her.

He stares at the camera, probably waiting for her to go on, then. Well, jokes on him. Y/N’s waiting too. Waiting for her to gather enough figurative balls to say what needs to be said.

“Um - okay, so,” Y/N starts, very lamely, “it’s about us.” Iwaizumi looks like he’s about to say something, but Y/N is quick to interject, “Wait! Let me just let it all out. Before I go completely crazy. And then you can talk. Yell. Curse, whatever you feel like doing after I say what I’m about to say.”

“I’m not gonna do any of that.”

“Okay. Good. Because I might cry if you do. And if I cry then I definitely won’t get to say what needs to be said.” Y/N is speaking out of her ass, that much she could tell. She could also tell he’s losing his patience, which she doesn’t totally blame him for.

“I think I know where this is going. You can say it.” Iwaizumi sounds a lot calmer, which is good, because Y/N doesn’t really know how she’d take it if he wasn’t. And then she looks down, fiddling with her fingers on her lap and the ring on her pinky finger that Iwaizumi gave to her before leaving for college.

And then Y/N decides to rip the bandage off, “I think we should break up.”

A sigh.

Not exactly her first choice of a reaction, but she’d take a sigh over a full blown confrontation any day. In fact, she’s probably a little too relieved that that was his first reaction. Means he’s thought about it too, and that she’s not the only one feeling guilty about all this.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N finds herself saying, still not daring to look up into the computer screen. She realizes how ironic it is that the calmest conversation they’ve had in months is when they’re about to break up.

“Don’t be. It’s both our faults.” He reassures her. And she finally looks up, catching her reflection on the webcam and how her eyes are slightly red and watery. (But so are his).

“Trust me I know,” Y/N finds the strength to force out a bitter laugh, and adds, “but I just...am. I’m sorry we couldn’t make it work. I really wanted it to work.”

“So did I.” Iwaizumi offers a bittersweet smile, reminding her that this probably hurts for him just as much as it did for her. “But we couldn’t. And that’s on both of us. Don’t feel the need to take all the blame.”

“God, Oikawa’s gonna fucking lose it. He rooted for us so hard.” Y/N lets out a genuine laugh, remembering her chocolate haired friend that’s probably going to cry harder than they do combined. And then silence engulfs them. Conversation that used to flow so smoothly between them long gone, and the connection they had as lovers severed.

“Um, I’ll catch up with you soon. Take it easy okay?” Iwaizumi finally speaks up, probably sick of the silence. “Yeah, sure. Talk to you soon.” Except she doesn’t. In fact, the next time Y/N hears from Iwaizumi is at his welcome home party, two years later. And by then they’ve both probably moved on (she can’t really speak for Iwaizumi), to bigger and better things, and hopefully to other people.

“And it’s easier to walk away, than to look for what would make you stay.” - Anderson Paak.

A/N. Reposted because I wanted to edit it a bit. An izakaya is basically a traditional Japanese bar! Ending is a bit rushed, but I kinda just wanted to finish it on a slightly bittersweet note?? Thank you for reading tho, I’m gonna go cry now :) - chuu

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kbstories · 4 years

Text

impression//expression

"It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone."

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Protective Kiri, Soft Baku, Chatting

Chapter 1. No additional content warnings apply. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

The routine goes as follows:

Bakugou waits for Kirishima at the front door, arms crossed and a varying degree of pissed off depending how late he's running. Kirishima complains about the train being postponed or too full or delayed in some way – which is true, damn it, it’s like the universe has doomed his train line and none other in all of Japan to be the statistical outlier in an otherwise spotless record of punctuality – and begs for forgiveness, usually by bribing Bakugou with some post-workout coffee.

It works surprisingly well. A month into this and Kirishima is about ready to join one of those conspiracy theory servers Kaminari is so fond of because Bakugou is actually pretty lenient, death threats and crackling palms aside.

(That being said, Kirishima enjoys life and living and chasing after his dreams, so he will never breathe a word about that particular observation to anyone, least of all Bakugou himself.)

They usually got the gym to themselves, the employees on the early shift always looking vaguely relieved that at least someone is making use of their opening hours. Kirishima’s never been a regular anywhere aside from perhaps the manga store a few blocks from his home, so it feels a bit special to have this implicit claim to the training area made for heat-based quirks every Saturday morning.

Bakugou snorted when Kirishima told him that, muttering what sounded like fucking nerd under his breath.

The rest is pretty straight-forward. Kirishima’s been on a daily workout schedule for a good year by this point, and it’s clear Bakugou is used to it too. They stretch, do some warm-ups (in Bakugou’s case, quite literally) and off they go.

The thing is: It’s fun. Like, really, really fun. Really loud, too, especially when Bakugou’s got his sweat on and comes at him point-blank and flashy like fireworks personified. By the first session, Kirishima already realized it’s a lost cause trying to talk during training because all Bakugou replies with is an exasperated “Hah?!” no matter what he says.

It’s not like Kirishima could’ve heard himself speak anyways, his ears always left ringing something fierce from all the close-quarter explosions. Bakugou is a stranger to the concept of holding back or taking things by half measures, that much hasn’t changed.

Elsewhere, it might’ve taken a while for Kirishima to push his quirk to the point where his skin breaks out in cracks and ridges, his arms and shoulders and hair turning unyielding and clear-cut like miniature mountains. Not here, though: Not when the choices are to put his best foot forward with every move, or have Bakugou tear his throat out for daring to waste his time. There’s something so freeing about letting loose like that – a thrill that sends Kirishima’s heart on a war path and his pulse soaring until all that’s left are his instincts and quick reflexes.

Like this, every time he gets a hit in or a blast manages to leave a mark on his body, Bakugou grins and Kirishima grins back. Like this, the bruises and lost hours of sleep pale in comparison to just how bright Bakugou’s eyes can shine.

Kirishima brushes off the last traces of carbon dust off his arms to start massaging the sore muscles there. With U.A.’s Sports Festival a mere handful of days away, both of them kept going until their quirks started to sputter.

A strange comfort, to sit in mutual exhaustion like this. It’s not even noon but Kirishima could totally go for a nap, right there on the black, fire-proof tiles. Leaning back on his hands, he hums and asks:

“So. What’s the deal with Midoriya?”

A few feet from him, Bakugou pauses in rolling his shoulders. The black tank top he’s wearing is positively plastered to his body with sweat, his track pants saved from the same fate by how bulky they are.

“What?”

Too late, it occurs to Kirishima to feel nervous. The sensation is dim against the warmth still clinging to his skin though, that minute ache that comes with becoming stone for too long. “Being around him pisses you off. What’s up with that?”

Bakugou stares at him. His expression is hard to read, firmly within the realm of his default frown. “The fuck, Shitty Hair. What’s it to you?”

Uh oh. Kirishima sits up, mostly to raise his hands in a placating gesture, palm-up. “Just curious, bro. Honest. Been wondering for a while so I thought I’d ask, y’know?”

As bold as Kirishima aims to be, lying Bakugou in the face when his gaze is sharp enough to cut a bitch would be a monumentally stupid move. Bakugou seems to come to the same conclusion, even if his scoff is plenty aggressive.

“None of your fucking business, that’s what’s up with it. Fucking… Deku, bah.”

To say the silence that follows is loaded is the understatement of the century. Kirishima chews on his tongue, about a thousand questions balancing on its tip; it’s like the Midoriya he sees is the polar opposite of the one Bakugou blows a fuse over on a regular basis, and the why behind it is kind of starting to haunt him. (It doesn’t help that everyone in 1-A treats him as some sort of expert in all things Bakugou instead of interacting with the guy directly.)

One glance at Bakugou and he swallows it all down. Only now, with any and all traces of it gone, does Kirishima realize how calm he had looked. “…Coffee?”

Bakugou picks himself off the ground and leaves without another word.

Baku 💣💥

it’s bullshit dude (sent 18:23)

u know that right? (sent 18:23)

right? (sent 18:48)

like the whole chains + muzzle thing was ass i’m still fuming (sent 19:10)

and the press can go duck themselves lol (sent 19:12)

fuck** (sent 19:12)

it’s ur right to refuse the thing if u don’t want it (sent 19:15)

idk man it just sucks (sent 19:20)

baku? (sent 19:35)

:( (sent 19:55)

i know (received 19:56)

stop blowing up my phone (received 19:57)

baku!! ❤️ (sent 19:57)

sry haha (sent 19:57)

u ok tho? (sent 20:00)

fuck off (received 20:01)

sry sry (sent 20:01)

(my moms say hi btw 💪🏻💪🏻) (sent 20:32)

((and congrats but i told em u don’t wanna hear it lmao)) (sent 20:33)

hi back (received 20:40)

💪🏻 (sent 20:42)

Lord Explosion Murder?? (Baku 💣💥 )

so like (sent 6:20)

ur hero name (sent 6:20)

? (received 6:21)

oh! morning lol (sent 6:22)

ok so. it’s a bit of a mouthful (sent 6:24)

manly! (sent 6:24)

but y’know (sent 6:24)

k (received 6:25)

what about nitro? or smth (sent 6:30)

it’s snappy and cool! like u hehe (sent 6:33)

WAIT NO (sent 6:33)

LIKE (sent 6:33)

UM (sent 6:34)

kirishima (received 6:34)

yea? (sent 6:34)

OH SHIT DID U JUST (sent 6:36)

pls don’t kill me (sent 6:36)

bro? (sent 6:40)

bakubro? (sent 6:48)

nitro? 👀 (sent 6:53)

… (sent 6:57)

at least lemme say bye to my dog man (sent 7:00)

no (received 7:00)

RIP in pieces me (sent 7:00)

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥 )

oi dipshit (received 8:02)

?? 👀 (sent 8:02)

you owe me coffee (received 8:03)

!!! (sent 8:03)

[train_view.jpg] (sent 8:18)

omw 💪🏻 (sent 8:19)

k (received 8:19)

>>Chapter 3

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #bnha fanfiction #kiri is braver than any marine: the fic #(let's hope tumblr doesn't kill the formatting on this one)#this fic is also on AO3!!#my stuff

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jungle321jungle · 4 years

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Here’s some anime opinions that no one asked for:

Look I watch a ton of anime and I won’t apologize for it but I gotta rant so here’s some random thoughts.

If you’re wondering how I pick which animes to mention I don’t pick it just happens. I’m tired and sick and drinking vodka let’s go with the insanity

I apologize for the lack of cut I’m on my phone

Key:

Awesome

Never watch it

It’s kinda bad (it’s bad)

It’s kinda good

~~~~

Sword Art Online:

Watching the most recent episode inspired this shit of a post

Its Enjoyable trash

It’s shitty as hell

But it looks pretty

And when they put effort into the fight scenes? Fucking beauty

The harem is trash, and so is Kirito. Everyone other than liz, silica and yui are stronger when Kirito is not around

The Yukki arc will always be one the best

Current arc isn’t bad but god stop sucking kiritos dick people and do your own thing until the power of love and bullshit science wakes him up

Also the stereotypes with the other countries are so stupid I fucking love

SAO Abridged

God tier

Ghost Stories (Dub)

One of the best comedies ever

It’s fucking hilarious

But ya need a certain sense of humor for it

Can be pretty... Uh idk the word but it’s not for everyone.

There’s clips on youtube if you need to understand better

Oh I found gifs for examples but these are the nicer ones

Baccano

The best fucking show. Watch it it needs love and so does my husbando claire

Fairy Tail

Flawed enjoyment

Plot holes big enough to catch planes

I enjoy the characters tho

But the story is shit after a certain point

The only flawless thing in FT Zero

Well no one flaw

It’s not fucking long enough

I pretend that Alvarez didn’t happen

Don’t give a fuck about the 100 years quest either until the gajevy babies are born lmk when that happens

Edens Zero

It’s a manga not an anime but idgaf

It’s too much like FT for me

I tried

But I can’t

I only like one character and he was the only one with a design not ripped from FT

Toilet Bound Hanako-Kun

Tbh I watched three eps(?) of the anime and hard cut to the manga but it’s still fucking amazing

The art style is so cute and adorable but the story isn’t 100%

In love

Arifuerta

I watched maybe two eps.

Fuck that shit

Blue Exorcist (it’s both really)

The anime starts great

It goes an anime only route which is shitty. But they made a third season which follows the manga again and they adapted a good arc so fuck yeah

I read the manga now and it’s good but weird but good

There’s issues. A good amount of the

But Rin’s current hair makes up for a lot of my anger

The Millionare Detective

There’s only two eps out cuz COVID but like 10/10

Look at the mans

Kings Game

One of the worst shows I ever fucking watched

I finished it

Don’t watch it

Ever

I cried or if frustration over this bitch

To ensure you don’t watch it have some spoilers:

There was a girl on fire

And like she’s typing on a laptop and talking casually

For seven minutes straight

Another girl (I don’t remember her name but I called her megabitch in my mind) took a chainsaw to the back and then still got up like nothing was wrong

They made a teaser for season 2 which won’t happen

What Do You Do at the End of the World? Are You Busy? Will You Save Us?

Another bad show I watched and finished cuz idk why

It’s just bad

So bad

Like the story is typical and shitty

It’s just not good

Divine Gate

Bad

It was good to a certain point

Then it got decent

Then they just introduced Norse gods as characters and let them do things out of nowhere

Yeah idk

it was such a rushed ending

Great Pretender

Still airing but it’s on Netflix in a month. I just kissanime shit

But I fucking love it

Its so fucking pretty for no apparent reason

Like there’s no need to go so hard but they do

The story is great

The characters are funny

It’s just good I can’t say more than that

That’s it. I both apologize and don’t for whatever this is. I’m sorry

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heartofsnark · 4 years

Text

This is Love (Chapter Eight): Whispers of Wolves

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

Word Count: 8671

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

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

For the previous chapter; click here

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

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

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

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

And then he sees his brothers and sister.

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

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

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

“Papa!”

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

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

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

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

“Fucking hell.”

It’s noon, it’s only fucking noon.

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

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

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

Be grateful to those who have caused you harm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was working out.”

“With a head injury? Seriously?”

“The fuck else am I suppose to do?”

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

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

“Uh, yeah, sure that’s fine.”

“You wanna wait in here?”

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

“Are you sleeping on your couch?”

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

“You have a bed, right?”

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

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

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

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

“I was just-”

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

“It fell out of your bag.”

“No it didn’t.”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t trust your surprises.”

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

“Fuck no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Help me, Faith

Shield me from sorrow

From fear of tomorrow

“Turn that crap off, right now.”

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

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

“Gross, but the song ain’t that bad.”

“You might wanna have your head checked again.”

“Piss off.”

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

“How’s your impromptu vacation been going?”

“Boring.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, it’s fine, I was bored too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, a lot, really.”

“You like flying that much?”

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

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

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

“No one in this county is.”

“Good to know I fit in, I guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I am relaxing, what are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You enjoying the show, honey?”

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

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

“And I was hunting him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow, that’s not comforting.”

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

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

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

“You got somewhere to be?”

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

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

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere you need to be, sweetheart.”

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

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

“I’m bored.”

“Not my problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

“God, you’re no fun.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

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

“Nothing you need to concern yourselves with.”

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

“Standing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You the conservationists?”

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

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

“Friendly advice?”

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

“Pffft.”

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

“No, you aren’t. There’s wolves-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, it’s only six months.”

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

“How much you wanna bet?”

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

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

“Right now.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t worry about it, Rook.”

“We still need to set an amount.”

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

“Mmm, hundred.”

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

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

“Nope.”

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

“You’re welcome.”

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

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

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

“People are dancing,” she states the obvious.

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

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

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

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

Yeah, thanks for the input.

Thanks for the call.

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

With dull knives and white hands

The blood of a stone

Cold to the touch, right

Right down to the bone

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

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

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

Because it kicks yeah.

It really kicks yeah.

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

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

It's electric twist, it's electric twist

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

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

“Oh just enjoying the show, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

“You heard me.”

“Fuck you!”

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

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

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

“He ca-”

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

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

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

“I need some fresh air.”

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

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

“Dep-yoo-tee.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not biblical, just a little maturity.”

“Are you implying I’m immature.“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Smoking is forbidden in Eden’s Gate.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

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

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

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

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

“Has that happened before?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” She says around her smoke.

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

“That’s me, Cassie?”

“You remember me…”

“What’s going on, are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

“I…I don’t know…I…”

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

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

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mikami · 5 years

Text

Death Note Audio Drama 02

Disk 2: Collateral Damage - a summary / partial translation

Disk 1 and an attempted explanation of What This Is are here.

This episode also isn’t particularly wild as far as plot diversion goes, but it changes a key element of how Death Note manipulation works and.... introduces a whole lot of Matsuda trivia, somehow. We also say hi and bye to Naomi.

___________________

We begin with Naomi tracking down the bus driver of the busjacking. The driver is really annoyed that people keep tracking him down to ask him about it. Naomi asks about Raye. (Her vacation pic is from Honolulu in this version). Naomi presses the driver to tell her as much as he remembers about the other passengers.

_____

TITLE MUSIC PLAYS

_____

We’re back in time. Light is trying to think about how to get Raye Penber’s name. His dad’s computer has no notes about it. Light deduces that his dad doesn’t even know about the tailing. Ryuk brings up the eye deal.

RYUK: I can offer you the eyes of a shinigami.

LIGHT: U-uh, you mean a real pair of eyes? That’s disgusting!!

RYUK (amused): No, I just mean the power of those eyes.

The lifespan halving gets brought up and Light just goes “uhm... no thanks”, literally.

LIGHT: Are there any more surprises? Some kind of bonus point system? Fine print?

RYUK: Uuuuuhm, can’t think of anything much right now.

LIGHT: You could have written it into the Death Note, alongside the other rules. I don’t like to be led by the nose, I’m not your goddamn----

RYUK: ... what?

LIGHT: I am not your puppet.... But I can get one for myself.

RYUK: I don’t get it.

LIGHT: I know now, how to get my pursuer’s name. And that’s without making any kind of contract with you.

_______

A TV transmission. An attorney has issued a lawsuit against prisons for the way prisoners die. His client died of heart attack after writing a pentagram in his own blood. He was close to being pardoned. The lawyer says that the government has a duty to ensure safety of the prisoners, no matter what they are in for.

_______

L and Soichiro discuss the murder and other abnormal murders like it. They have Soichiro be the one to discover the “L did you know” message, oddly. But they don’t really detail how it is coded, so it might have just literally been written down word by word in this version. L tells Soichiro to not tell anyone about this, not even his team. Soichiro immediately says he’ll only keep it in her personal data files.......

_______

RYUK: Are you really sure you should snoop around your dad’s office like this?

LIGHT: If you want a useful way to keep your eyes busy, why don’t you keep watch?

RYUK: I am not your partner. Oh, an apple. [eats]

LIGHT: Luckily, I can do just fine without your help. A-ha! Interpol listed them all!

RYUK: All your extremely dramatic deaths?

LIGHT: More or less. Seems like not all I wrote into the notebook actually happened.

They go over the stipulations of manipulation needing to be physically doable for the victim.

LIGHT: And now I just need... a catalyst.

_______

News transmission. A news entry about the killer of the Amane parents having died. Channel switch. A Christmas-themed advertisement for Space Land. Channel Switch. A news feature about Kiichiro Osoreda and his failed bank robbing.

______

Light meets Yuri and Yuri’s dialogue is kept pretty accurate to the manga, which is something that I found really disappointing actually. Light’s and Ryuk’s dialogue here is also very close to the original.

Raye Penber complains that he’d like to do real policework at some point again, otherwise he acts the same as in the manga here.

The whole busjacking is just really manga-close. But when Raye says he’s police undercover...

LIGHT: Oh, really? And how do I know you’re not in cahoots with this madman?

PENBER: And who are you? A detective?

YURI: His dad is a detective, that’s why he’s so smart.

LIGHT: Do you have ID? Otherwise I’ll have to deal with you first.

PENBER: Of course! Here.

LIGHT: Raye Penber... FBI? What is the FBI doing on a bus to Space Land?

PENBER: This isn’t really the time for that, boy.

LIGHT: Alright, cowboy, then toss your lasso already.

I cannot overstate that he literally says this. Word by word. After that, the scene returns to its canon version. The bizarre thing is that Ryuk explains the plan out loud, including telling Light’s name to Otoharada. Of course, Otoharada is brainwashed and acting according to script, but still weird.

_______

News transmission. The busjacking gets described. Light turns the news off and shows the Death Note entry to Ryuk, who reads it out loud.

______

We hear a New Year’s countdown.

WATARI: What in Hercules’ name was that?

INTERPOL REP (still clinking champagne glasses): It’s the time difference, Mr. Watari! It’s midnight, here in the USA.

WATARI: Oh... I am so very sorry. I must have lost my overview.

INTERPOL REP: Forget about it. Just a moment.

She leaves the party room. She informs Watari of the deceased FBI agents. It happened three days ago, but she only got the report now, thanks to the holiday crunch. She now refuses to involve the FBI further.

______

Soichiro calls L. He’s pissed about L involving the FBI, now that he’s heard.

______

Back with Watari and the Interpol Rep (her name is Paula Virilio and she’ll be referred to as Virilio in the future) are still talking about the matter. She tells Watari that on Dec 28th all the agents asked about names and photos of their coworkers, so she gave the first four the file and asked them to pass it further.

______

Soichiro is really mad about Virilio’s miss-step too. L and Soichiro work out that they need to know who sent the first email about the files. The phone call ends.

The Task Force is really mad about L still not taking the same risks as them. They actually seriously consider L being Kira for a moment.

______

The Task Force enter the hotel L is staying in. Pardon me for sometimes just saying ‘someone’ as the speaker, I find the Task Force really hard to tell about and without context cues I am often lost.

MATSUDA: A whole hotel suite? How do you earn the money for this stuff?

L: By being smarter than everyone else, Detective Matsuda.

MATSUDA: You are... [He corrects himself from the formal ‘you’ used to address adults to informal ‘you’ here] You are L....?

L: The one. Please sit down, gentlemen.

MATSUDA: He’s still a child...

L (laughs): I am old enough to vote, Mr. Matsuda. Old enough to carry a weapon, to marry, to fall in love... and to catch a murderer. And you are Chief Inspector Yagami. I also know you from TV.

SOICHIRO: Yes, here’s my ID, for protocol. This is Matsuda, as you know. Detectives Aizawa, Ukita, Mogi...

L: A group of dead men.

SOICHIRO: Excuse me, what?

L: If I really was Kira, you’d all be dead now.

MATSUDA: How can we know that, boy?

L: Because you are not dead, detective.

MATSUDA: We call that kind of thing circular logic.

L: I call someone like you an idiot.

MATSUDA: I don’t need to listen to this from a civilian, you little shitty---

SOICHIRO (softly): Matsuda.

L: You name is Touta Matsuda. Graduated from Kumamoto University. Passion for sports cars and every Thursday, you go to the cinema. Big drama. Not in a relationship right now, but in pining hope for something complicated with Noriko Takai. Hm. A very concerning sympathy for both [???? I DONT KNOW THE WORD] as well as country music. Loves Korean cuisine, but....

SOMEONE: He’s got your number, Matsuda.

MATSUDA: So what? You all can easily figure out the same from social media.

L: Yeah, that’s what I can do. Everything. About you, and your sister, and your stupid aunt who doesn’t know how to properly set the privacy settings of her account. I know where you live, you tool--

SOICHIRO: I think we got it, L.

L: Really? Kira plays this game to win. I agreed to meet you, because you were all getting nervous about working with an anonymous specialist, so I am here. To get my hands as dirty as yours. But really, is this necessary...?

SOICHIRO: What do you want, L?

L: I want you to take this seriously.

SOMEONE: In the face of 12 dead agents, matters are serious enough, I think.

L: Correct, so you take care to not become number 13. All of you have to disappear. Get off social media, get new email accounts. If you address the public or the press, you will introduce yourself with these names. You are not going to tell anyone your real names. That’s exactly why I am still alive.

And this is how we get the fake IDs.

_____

Naomi at the NPA. The receptionist refuses to let her speak to anybody from the Task Force. Light steps in, to hand in the spare clothes for his dad. His dialogue with Naomi is similar to the manga, but audio drama Light’s insistence and volunteering of excessively much info he shouldn’t have.... it makes me laugh.

LIGHT: And you are looking for my father?

NAOMI: Uh, yeah, I--

LIGHT: I can tell you’re up to speed, miss. You’re definitely correct to not just tell your matter to the next best person. Especially after those FBI murders. We’re all suspects, am I right?

NAOMI: U-uh, I didn’t say that---

LIGHT: If you’d like, I’d gladly get you in contact with my father. I’ll get through to him, even if he usually rejects calls.

RYUK: Take the bait, missy, take it...

NAOMI: Would that be alright, u-uh, Light?

RYUK: Aaand, bullseye!

LIGHT: Why don’t we take this conversation somewhere else?

RYUK: There’s just too many video cams here.

LIGHT: As long as we don’t know how Kira kills his victims, I’d suggest a less public place.

_______

LIGHT: Okay, where were we? My name is Yagami. Light Yagami.

NAOMI: Shouko Maki.

RYUK: And my name is Ryuk, but you’re not actually able to see or hear me.

LIGHT: I think Kira is capable of more than simply killing people. It seems as if he could influence their actions before their deaths.

NAOMI: I think the same. And here I thought I was alone with it. Yes, he can control people before he kills them. But that’s not all. He can also kill them through other means than heart attacks.

RYUK: Who is this little snooper?

LIGHT: Should that be the case, we might be facing even more murders than thought. There are cases that haven’t been considered in connection to Kira yet.

NAOMI: Exactly. Those might be cases Kira hoped would stay secret. I am fairly sure that someone... someone I know... has met Kira.

LIGHT: Hah. It might be hard to get someone to believe this statement.

NAOMI: That’s why I came in person to explain the circumstances of the case.

LIGHT: Wouldn’t it be even more convincing if your friend told his own story?

NAOMI: He can’t. He was one of the murdered agents.

RYUK: Oh, now it’s getting interesting.

NAOMI: He was my fiancé. He told me that he got involved in this busjacking. By now, I assume that Kira was on that bus as well.

RYUK: She’s talking about Raye Penber, wow.

NAOMI: Something wrong?

LIGHT: Why are you assuming that Kira was on the bus?

NAOMI: Name and face of the culprit were on the media day by day. He was on the run after a totally miscalculated bank robbing. And then, 8 days later, shortly after Christmas... My fiancé dies. Together with his 11 colleagues.

LIGHT: The connection seems vague to me.

RYUK: What he wants to say is.... perfect match.

NAOMI: Something must have happened there. I think that my fiancé and the culprit were used by Kira to get to the other 11 agents.

LIGHT: The culprit was hit by a car, it wasn’t a heart attack. This is how you got to the conclusion that Kira can control actions?

NAOMI: Yes.

LIGHT: That seems pretty far fetched.

RYUK: It really isn’t, lady.

NAOMI: Even the first time I heard of the busjacking, the circumstances seemed strange to me. I kept asking my fiancé questions, I basically interrogated him to tell me the story again and again.

LIGHT: And... what was his story?

______

We flash back to Naomi and Raye talking. Both of their voices are tense.

RAYE: Yes, I showed my ID to one of the passengers, okay?! Are you happy now?

NAOMI: You shouldn’t have done that!

RAYE: I know that! It was complicated. The guy wouldn’t have cooperated without me proving that I’m a cop.

NAOMI: You were undercover, Raye!

RAYE: Stop that! You weren’t there.

NAOMI: You had explicit order to not blow your cover.

RAYE: And you are the only person who knows I have done that. If you don’t tell anybody, nobody will ever know.

NAOMI: But I am not the only one. Isn’t that right? We still don’t know how Kira finds and executes his victims. You can’t afford even a single misstep.

RAYE: You’d probably prefer he’d shot all the passengers then.

NAOMI: Ugh, Raye, that’s not the point---

RAYE (hitting the table): Of course that is exactly the point!!

______

LIGHT: This whole situation isn’t free of emotions.

NAOMI: So?

LIGHT: I just want to make sure your feelings aren’t influencing your analysis skills.

RYUK: Which are working quite excellently.

NAOMI: Hey, you. I was a special agent with several decorations before I gave up my career to marry Raye. I’m not just some random brat.

LIGHT: I agree with you, the suspicion warrants a closer inspection.

They keep talking, Light himself brings out the deduction that the person Raye identified himself to was Kira.

______

We’re with Ukita on phone duty. Someone who thinks they are Kira is calling. Ukita is already pretty annoyed, even before the guy talks of other hallucinations. He hangs up quickly.

_______

SOICHIRO: is it important?

MATSUDA: No, boss. Ukita is just whining again. He doesn’t want to be on phone duty anymore. He texted: “When do I get a hotel suite with 24/7 room service?”

SOMEONE: Does he think we’re just chilling here?

SOMEONE: Probably. Uhm, do you want the final shrimp?

SOMEONE: Take it.

They then move on to talk about surveillance footage of the FBI agent deaths. They have footage from 3 deaths, one of them is Raye Penber. They have the most material on him. They realize he’s done more than a full round on the Yamanote line. They also notice him having an envelope that disappears. They conclude Kira was on the train, receiving it.

______

Light makes his first attempt to kill Naomi, same cause of death as in the manga. Naomi wants to go back to the NPA building now. Light comes with her, as he notices she isn’t dying.

_____

Ukita on the phone again. Akiko Misora is calling about her daughter Naomi being misses. Ukita is pretty annoyed (”Oh really? Was she kidnapped by aliens or something?”). Akiko explains that Naomi came to Japan with her fiancé, but he died and shortly after Naomi also fell out of contact. Akiko complains about how much paperwork getting the ashes to the US was, and says how charming Raye was and how good his Japanese was...... Ukita wants to get rid of her, until Akiko tells him Raye’s name.

____

The Task Force discusses Naomi’s existence and disappearance. She left her hotel at Dec. 29th and has been missing since. They all suspect that Naomi, being an ex-agent, has started her own investigation. But they also worry someone found her.

_____

Light explains to Naomi that the Kira team doesn’t meet with people on principle, because of the risk. He calls them ‘us’ and Naomi picks up on it, leading Light to explain he is a member of the task force. (Ryuk: “And if you believed that one, you might as well buy a fake Rolex of him now.”) Light invites Naomi to the team, like in the manga. Naomi does a lot of nervous laughing in this scene, but she does give him her real ID.

______

The task force think about Naomi, and her existence in connection to Raye being the first one to send an email to Virilio. They decide to place cameras and bugs in the houses of those who were investigated by Raye. It’s the families of Kitamura and Yagami.

______

Light writes Naomi’s name down again, this time her real one. They walk together some more. Light points out that Naomi doesn’t just want to investigate but also to hear the full story about Raye’s death.

NAOMI: I already knew on the day of that something was wrong. Raye was acting really strangely. He got up and left, without a word. He even forgot his cellphone.

LIGHT: Oh, is that unusual?

NAOMI: I followed him downstairs. He was at the reception and made them print something for him. I gave his phone to him, but he said nothing at all. He was so.. empty.

LIGHT: Distracted?

NAOMI: ... empty. Not a smile, not a kiss. He took the phone and left. At the time I still thought ‘well, maybe an order’. Next thing you know, the police arrives at the hotel. Asked me to come with them... identify the body. I have no idea what happened in the final hours of his life.

LIGHT: I do. I know the details of Raye Penber’s death down to the very last second.

NAOMI: I haven’t even told you his full name yet...

LIGHT: He entered the station via the west entrance. Past the street musician who always plays there. He passed the ticket entrance at 11 past 3. He went down to the Yamanote line, in the direction of Kanda.

NAOMI: I don’t understand... That’s only too stations if you directly take the Chuo line. Why this giant detour?

LIGHT: Because someone was waiting for him. The Yamanote line is the perfect place for a meeting. It has stops everywhere and nowhere.

_____

We launch into a flashback to the Yamanote line. Light walks up to Raye and greets him, but Raye does not answer him. Light introduces himself at more depth, even using his full name and calling himself Kira right after. Raye continues to not answer. Ryuk realizes that Raye cannot answer because that is how Light has written it down. Light keeps chatting, explaining his plan to Raye. On the train, he makes Raye watch as he writes the names of all his colleagues. He also touches Raye with the notebook, to let him see Ryuk. Raye can’t do anything.

____

LIGHT: Well, Naomi, I’m afraid Raye was just sitting there. His eyes widened a little. Panicked, you know?

RYUK: Yes, panic just about cuts it. Just like the face you are making right now, darling.

LIGHT: But he couldn’t move. Just like you right now. I was quite precise with my orders, you see?

Light continues to explain that he needed the names of the other agents and that he can do anything to people whose names he has.

_____

The task force discusses the family surveillance further. Light says the chance of Kira being among those people is 5%, but this is their only lead. Soichiro tells L to be thorough with his surveillance, like in the manga.

_____

LIGHT: All Raye could do was sit there until the time was ripe. And then get up...

RYUK: Without a word, Naomi. Silent like a fish.

LIGHT: And he left the train at Kanda station.

RYUK: And then he died.

LIGHT: Right on the platform, so to say.

RYUK: He extended his hand like in a bad movie. As if he wanted to say ‘I am cursing you’ or something.

LIGHT: And thus, Raye Penber died. I find it regrettable.

RYUK: Because he wasn’t a murderer. Which you also aren’t, Naomi. Just wrong place, wrong time... Collateral damage.

LIGHT: But I think you understand, Naomi, that I can’t leave you alive, if I want to keep working. I know you want to move, to hit me. I know that you wish above all else to take the gun out of your pocket. But none of that will happen, because I already put your final moments into motion. And that means I’m the one who’s in power here.

Ryuk asks what she’ll do. Light explains that he wrote the same conditions as on the first try, about her suicide.

LIGHT: So Naomi, I think you know what to do. Now go.

RYUK: And there she went. A woman with a mission.

LIGHT: Hey, Naomi! Want me to call my dad? Still want to talk to him, tell him everything you learned today? Hm? .... and she just keeps walking.

RYUK: She didn’t even say goodbye. I hope it was worth it. This new direction you’ve taken, it’s going to change everything.

LIGHT: What new direction?

RYUK: Now you’re no longer simply a criminal. You’re a police killer.

#death note #light yagami #l lawliet #naomi misora #touta matsuda #audio drama translations

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junionigiri · 6 years

Text

Boom Clap [bnha: vigilantes one shot]

Story Summary: Haimawari Koichi is quite content spending New Year's Eve alone in his run-down rooftop apartment, but Iida Tensei has other plans.

Relationship: Haimawari Koichi/Iida Tensei

Rating: T

Warnings/Notes: haha wtf is a warm-up drabble anyways. this isn’t edited but whatever. gonna go back to my other AU in a bit. Happy new year everyone :)

31 December 20XX, 2154H

Haimawari Koichi watches the night sky alone.

He has cans of beer, one of them already open and half-empty in his hand. His phone is out, but apart from taking piss-poor quality photos of the stray fireworks already colouring the night sky in vivid oranges and greens and pinks, it is glaringly quiet. Almost… annoyingly so. But he can’t complain.

Pop is finally spending time with her family and not with some college-aged vigilante, as proper middle school girls ought to. Makoto-senpai is with her older brother too--she managed to pressure him into going home to see their parents after so long.

His college friends wouldn’t step near here, for obvious reasons. And the kinda-friends he’s met as a vigilante… well, Koichi’s kind of dense, but even he understands that inviting Eraserhead for a beer here isn’t the most genius idea.

Knuckleduster… well who knows where he really is right now. Koichi only hopes that he’s alive wherever he is. He doesn’t have a lot of chances to say that he misses that insane master of his, not even to himself.

And… that’s the extent of his friends, he realizes. Those close enough that he can theoretically ask to spend some time with him on his little rooftop in the city, at least.

That’s… kind of sad. But he tries not to think about that too much.

There’s no one else here.

It’s not so bad, he supposes. Life as a college student by day, a vigilante by night isn’t exactly the most quiet. He made up a stupid University-related excuse not to go home to Mom’s because villains don’t take the holidays off (and also he prefers meeting the new year without being slapped silly like a fly). So he should really enjoy the quiet, while he can.

Another stray firework explodes above his head. He tries to capture it on camera, for what it’s worth. As expected, it looks shitty, exactly what you get from a flip-phone camera.

He deletes it.

It’s quiet. A breeze blows by, cold and biting, but his All Might hoodie keeps him warm.

It’s the perfect time for a villain to strike. If he were a villain, he’d strike now.

He looks at the streets below his complex. Come on. Somebody? Anybody?

Nope. Nada. He sighs, and looks up the sky again. Maybe he should patrol, or something? Ah, but during holidays like this, the younger heroes are out and about, on higher alert than on a normal day. If he ran into any of them, he might just be the one to get arrested. Not the best thing to happen to greet the new year.

His phone rings like a bell, startling him. “Ah--”

He flips his phone open. A single message, a short one, but just enough to make his heart flutter.

Tensei Iida (2201H): Happy New Year to you and your family! Here’s hoping that the incoming year is prosperous! Let’s work hard together! - Turbo Hero Ingenium

He’s two hours too early for the generic new year’s greeting texts, isn’t he? He must have thought ahead and sent the message before the signals got congested. Figures that the Turbo Hero is ahead of everyone, even new year’s texts.

Still… Koichi’s smiling a little too wide just receiving a generic greeting. Ah, frickin’ stupid, really--

Their chat thread isn’t exactly brimming with messages, either. In fact, this is the first message in their log. They exchanged numbers ages ago during one of their runs, but there really isn’t a good reason for either of them to send messages to each other. Besides, Koichi thinks that it wouldn’t be good for one of the more popular heroes to be in close contact with an infamous vigilante--who knows when the police might need to check his text records, or something…

Oh… and also, his crippling shyness gets in the way of making a proper human-like text too, let’s not forget about that.

His fingers tap nervously against the keys of his phone, erasing and re-typing and erasing his messages again. Double-thinking whether it’s too eager or too disinterested or just right for him to text now, or in a minute, or in an hour--

What is he going to say, anyway? Blessings to you too, please keep watching out for us? Yeah, let’s work hard together, you on the legal side and me on the dark shady criminal side? Yeah man I can’t wait til we run again, please wear tighter jogging shorts this year hehe jk lol. Oh, wait, is this the appropriate time to confess his crazy gay crush yet? With any luck, the moment Tensei reads it, there’s fireworks in the sky, boom boom and then--

Koichi, no. Just. No.

He inhales, and lets his thumbs fly over the keypad. Happy New Year, he starts out in Japanese, ending with a :) .

Too plain. He deletes that.

Happy New Year, he writes, in English this time. There, that’s not too plain, that might be something that Tensei will at least be a lil bit amused to read. Right. He thinks about it a little more, and adds another :) .

Well. That won’t make any hearts throb. That’s… seenzoned material, that’s not really-- yeah, that’s really boring, even for a generic new year’s greeting that he’s spent a lot of thought on.

A generic new year’s greeting that he’s spent five… ten… fifteen minutes composing already. What the fuck, Koichi. Just say something, anything, just fill up the screen with some shitty fireworks kaomoji and blame it on Pop if he asks about it.

He takes a deep breath. Okay, so… the past year he’s gotten away a lot with being a little more impulsive, right? So just… say what you want, and just let things happen. Most likely nothing will happen, so.

Me: Happy New Year! Thanks for all your help this year. Hope you and your family are doing well, ‘specially Tenya. If you’re patrolling, I hope you don’t run into anyone too dangerous lol~

Before he berates himself for sounding stupid, he presses send. It gets delivered at 2218H.

Okay. Well that isn’t so bad. But the cutesy ~ makes him cringe.

He shuts his phone with a satisfying snap and takes a sip of his beer. Ugh, his face is getting warm, this beer isn’t cold enough! Come on, isn’t it supposed to be winter, where are the bitter biting winds when you need them?

No cold wind comes, only another message. He almost tosses his phone over the side of the building the moment his phone chimes again.

He takes a deep breath, flips his phone open and reads:

Tensei Iida (2221H): Thanks, Haimawari-kun! Tenya’s doing well, he’s with our grandparents outside the city. Just about to finish my shift now tho, so obviously I won’t be celebrating with everyone ^_^’ Are you patrolling too? Try not to get caught, okay?

Ahhh ahhh a real reply ahhhhhhh a blessed smiley from Ingenium, ahhh. He needs to go in and put his head in the freezer.

But he doesn’t--Tensei replied to him really fast, so surely it’s polite to reply to him really fast too. I mean it’s the polite thing to do. A guy on patrol in a quiet city has the means to reply fast, so he should return the favor.

Trying to will his heart not to go doki doki much like a shoujo manga heroine, he struggles to type, Oh, im not lmao theres a lot of you out there and i dont want to spend the new year in prison.

Tensei Iida (2224H): You’re right! That’s a relief. I don’t want to go to Tartarus just so we can go jogging together! ;) Tensei Iida (2224H): so are you with your folks? Out of town?

The winky face, and the implication that Tensei would visit him in maximum security prison should the opportunity arises almost kills him on the spot. Koichi suppresses another urge to roll over the cement tiles of the rooftop and manages to reply:

Me (2226H): nah. naruhata Tensei Iida (2327H): oh. In the university dorm, by yourself? Me (2228H): haha no lmao i dont live in the university. i live up on the roof in that one rundown apartment two blocks away cant miss it Me (2229H): but yeah by myself Tensei Iida (2331H): !!! on new years eve? Me (2232H): yeah? Tensei Iida (2335H): Oh! Well, that’s not good... Me (2236H): lmao do u feel that sorry for me Tensei Iida (2337H): It’s not that! Sorry hahahaha Me (2238H): its ok haha

Well, that’s a little awkward. Koichi doesn’t know what to say next, and when the minutes pass by, the speedy replies suddenly stops. He tries to type out another reply to tell him to change the subject but he has no clue how to proceed.

And then, the minutes pass in silence. There are more fireworks rising in the skies now, building up a crescendo for the bigger ones scheduled for midnight. They’re really pretty, but Koichi’s guts are in turmoil, giddiness making them churn in one direction, and pure anxiety in the opposite direction.

Fifteen minutes later, to his surprise, his phone chimes again.

Tensei Iida (2253H): 16th st apartment complex?

A firework goes boom behind his head. Koichi blinks. Uh. yeah, he types in dumbly.

Tensei Iida (2254H): Ok. Look down. :D

Koichi stares at the message for another dumb second and almost trips over himself rushing to the edge.

It’s a little hard to see since he’s way down there, but Koichi doesn’t miss the shiny silver and blue of Ingenium’s mecha-inspired hero suit. He’s waving up at him, and Koichi hopes that he sees him waving back.

He’s prepared to turn on his heel and run down to meet him, but he sees Tensei hold his hand up, in a gesture for him to stay right where he is. Koichi tilts his head curiously, raises both arms in a confused shrug.

He’s far away, but Koichi sees him give his trademark grin. He goes five steps backwards…

And Recipro-bursts his way up the side of the building.

“Holy sh--”

It’s less than half a minute when Ingenium makes it up and over the ledge. Smoke rises from the engines of his arms and it’s really concerning, but the way the Turbo Hero is just smiling at him with a salute, like he’s in a mission to rescue him from the burning building of his heart just... makes him melt in a stupid puddle without any sense of comprehension.

“Hey there, Crawler,” Tensei says, stepping closer to him.

“Hey,” Koichi stammers out. “Um… that was neat and all, but you know we have an elevator, so--”

The pro laughs. “Yeah, but elevators are pretty slow, and I wanted to see you faster than they would allow me.”

Anyone who is interested is free to canvass Koichi’s corpse of its vital organs. Just. Say the word.

“Yeah, you were… pretty fast, haha.” His voice catches like he’s still in puberty. He clears his throat. “I didn’t know you could run up the sides of buildings. That’s pretty insane.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know I could too.”

“Uh.”

Tensei collapses on the floor, legs crossed and arms waving in front of him like they’re boneless. “You wouldn’t happen to have any juice there, would you? My arms are feeling pretty wobbly, and--”

Aaaah wtf! “Y-yeah, hang on a sec, Iida--”

Koichi glides in his apartment in the speed of light and rummages through the scanty contents of his fridge. He has to dig a bit to find the stock of grapefruit juice at the back.

(Since that incident with the Catbus, he buys a stock of them on impulse and carries a bottle with him during patrols. In the tiny chance that he runs into Tensei and he needs extra fuel, he’s frickin’ ready. And if he doesn’t, well… grapefruit juice doesn’t taste that bad, so…)

He’s back to Tensei in record time. He tosses the bottle to him, and the pro chugs it down gratefully. He instantly looks refreshed at the last gulp, puts down the bottle with an aahhh and only grins at Koichi’s distress.

“What the heck, Iida! You haven’t done anything like that before?!”

He laughs awkwardly. “I’ve run up two storeys before, but--”

Koichi’s apartment complex is, like, ten storeys high. “Y-you could have gone splat or kaboom on the way up here, man! You could have been a really bloody human firework!”

Tensei shrugs. “I didn’t though! This tells me a lot about what I can do with my quirk!”

He’s a little too chill for someone who could have fallen ten storeys down onto the dirty Naruhata pavement, Koichi thinks. He gives him an exasperated look and collapses next to him. “Yeah, I guess, but… you didn’t have to do all that just to see me…”

He grins at him again, leans his head closer to his, like he tends to do from time to time. Koichi reckons that it’s because Tensei doesn’t have a good sense of personal space, but all the same it makes his heart throb painfully in his chest. “I felt like I did. Let me show off from time to time, Haimawari-kun.”

Ahh you cheesy bastard, Tensei, you bleeding show-off. It’s a good thing it’s so dark, because he’s sure he’s a cherry tomato by that time, and he can’t blame it on the half-empty can of beer next to him. “Hah! Sure, do that… I’d show off my new moves to you too if I could. You’re lucky I can’t, you’d feel like a total slowpoke hahaha--”

What the fuck is he saying, he doesn’t know anymore. This back-and-forth shit-talking thing (Makoto insists that it’s flirting, but Koichi disagrees because hah why would Iida Tensei flirt with a guy like him?) is more natural when they’re running out the streets and out of breath from trying to outdo each other. Without the excuse of physical exhaustion to explain away his stammering, Koichi’s a little worried of how brainless he might have sounded then.

Tensei only looks more and more amused, and doesn’t get any less close. “I dunno about that, Crawler. Been a while since we had a real race.”

“Heh, you’re right.” Koichi has been more careful using his quirk in public, out of disguise. He doesn’t wear his All Might hoodies when he’s around Tensei, unless by accident.

A silence falls between them, a slightly uncomfortable one where Koichi is hyperaware of the steadily increasing proximity between them, of the alcohol in his veins, of his rushing pulse. Trying to distract himself, he reaches out for an unopened can of beer and offers this to Tensei, who accepts.

He pulls the tab off the cheap, lukewarm thing, tilts it close to his. “Cheers.”

Koichi nods. “Cheers.”

They take a swig in unison. Fireworks explode above them, spurts of colors in the sky. The shine of the lights above do something interesting over the steel of Tensei’s suit.

“Hey, so… if you want to take your suit off--”

“Hm?” Tensei looks down on himself. “You want me to strip down? I usually expect dinner first, but for you--”

“That’s not what I--” Koichi stammers, as he flushes in an ever deeper scarlet that he doesn’t think is even possible. Ah, how drunk is he, huh? How Asian is he that he would turn this red, just from drinking this teensy amount of beer?

He takes off the metal plates more carelessly than Koichi reckons he should be handling them, and lets them down on the floor next to him with a sound. Tensei looks grateful for the extra breathing space as he leans back to appreciate the growing noise and lights above them. “This is an awesome spot, Koichi. The view’s great from up here, huh?”

“Yeah, you know it.”

(And the younger boy leans back, away from him, and tries not to appreciate how Tensei looks in just that tight black bodysuit thing he has underneath. Lean, broad, muscly, like a Greek god, and...)

A few quiet moments pass by. Tensei finishes a can. Koichi works on his third one and he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly drinking so fast. He coughs a little to clear up his suddenly tight throat. “So it’s weird because you almost died going up here, but thanks for coming up here, I guess… it’s pretty cool being up here, by myself--”

Perfectly content, and lonely, and quite possibly drunk by himself by this time, but not as drunk as he feels right there next to him--

“--but it’s cool not… looking at all the pretty lights by myself this time,” he struggles out. Stupid, really, he isn’t even looking at the fireworks anymore, just the beer can under his nose, like he’s reading tea leaves and begging for some clarity.

“Yeah. I’m glad I invited myself up here, too,” Tensei says gently. “I’m shameless I know, but knowing you’re alone up here, I couldn’t help myself--”

Koichi laughs nervously. “Yeah, you are pretty--”

When he turns his head, Tensei’s nose is two centimeters away from his. His eyes are looking right into his, freezing him in place.

“... pretty,” he swallows, already lost. “... shameless.”

Tensei makes a sound in his throat, so quiet that he can’t hear it among the sounds of explosions, but he’s so close he feels the hit, like he Shooty-Go-Blammed himself in the chest. He might be agreeing or disagreeing but fuck whatever they were talking about, Koichi can’t remember why the small talk matters anymore.

Tensei puts one gloved hand underneath his chin, a lackadaisical grin on his face showing off that sharp incisor that Koichi thinks is very cute. “Pretty,” he agrees.

He feels the change in the air, feels the charge spark in between them, through his eyeballs and his little brain.

They lean in closer. Eyes flutter closed. Koichi’s heart is beating fast and hot and electric.

Lips touch.

Explosions go off in his brain.

Ahhh, Koichi screams in his head, as the sensation of Tensei’s insanely soft lips on his beery virgin ones immediately makes him question reality. One hand goes up to experimentally touch the back of the older man’s head, fingers threading through that soft, dark hair. He pushes a little, nudges him just a little closer to him. The minuscule distance between them practically disappears.

“Ahhh--” This time his mental scream is an audible gasp when Tensei pushes him down on the concrete, supporting his head and back with gloved hands, and continues the kissing with Koichi underneath him.

Sparks of light litter the night air, like violent blooming flowers against the infinite canopy of darkness, in booms and kablooeys and claps and other ridiculous noises. Koichi doesn’t care to wax poetic about them, not when his heart is probably doing the same shit, with Tensei and his warmth is right there above him, feeling so nice and right.

Yeah, he belongs right here, right in his arms. What the hell has he done all year, the blur that is his 19 years of life, before this?

Eventually they have to break the kiss to get some of that chill air between their lungs. They gasp in unison, a dashing smile on Tensei’s face, and a dopey smile on Koichi’s. The older man caresses the side of his face. “Haimawari-kun,” he says gently.

“Yeah? Ah, it’s Koichi, by the way.”

Tensei nods. “Koichi-kun,” he repeats.

That right there is the stuff of dreams. Koichi feels like he’s overheating, despite the winter night. “Hah, is it new years yet, Iida? We should be counting down, or something--”

He gets another sweet kiss on the lips instead. Moments stretch before him. The concrete under him feels like the softest cloud as he allows himself to melt under his touch once again.

“It’s Tensei,” he breathes sensually into his ear. “And… honestly, I don’t care about the time, Koichi, just--”

There’s jovial shouting down at where the city square is, and more light and noise, far away from their rooftop.

“Yeah,” Koichi agrees with a smile. “Fuck that clock.”

They laugh like a couple of idiots, and kiss some more and damn, he could do with more of this in the coming years.

Soon, it’s January. The air is getting a little colder. They spend the rest of the first day of the new year in Koichi’s humble apartment, warmer than either of them could ever hope for.

#bnha fic #bnha vigilantes #tenkoi #koisei #haimawari koichi #iida tensei #koichi x tensei #new years kiss #let's celebrate everyone

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