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minervadashwood · 2 years

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Daryl X PlusSize!Reader (she/her)

Scars and Stitches, Chapter 27: Dreamy

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Series Masterlist | Daryl x Reader Masterlist

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Chapter Summary: A shopping trip and a car ride. Word Count: 2,600 Chapter Warnings: Angst and fluff. Divider by @firefly-graphics

Note:

Thank you for going on this journey with me. This is the longest and most emotionally complex story I’ve written. I am completely honored that you continued to read this story, despite some questionable updates—not to mention the delayed ones. It is my wish you find this ending satisfying and hopeful.

“Where is your home?” she asked after a long, comfortable silence. “Wherever you are," he said. ― Judith McNaught, Whitney, My Love

Since the farm, you and Daryl hadn’t been apart for more than an hour. You’d never spoken about it; instead, it was a silent agreement. The night the farm fell, your separation from everyone, from Daryl, had you both clinging to each other for days after that. With your ankle tightly bound—at first with makeshift strips of cloth until finally Glenn and Maggie found you an Aircast—you would ride on the bike with Daryl. When you stopped to camp, he helped you hobble around, and though you could walk on your own, you clung to him, like the moment you weren't touching him, he'd be ripped away from you.

Daryl felt the same way those few days. He was torn between hunting for the group and staying by your side. He tried, at the end of the first day, to make himself go to the woods. He made it a few steps away from the camp before fear gripped him and he was by your side once more.

The others picked up the slack without a complaint. T, Glenn, and Maggie foraged for food—both canned and grown (if a farm was nearby; squash was in season). No one commented on Daryl’s behavior and though guilt had him hating himself, his love for you was stronger.

Over the next couple of weeks, your ankle healed and the group wandered in search of shelter. After your ankle had stopped hurting and you’d stretched and strengthened it, Daryl deemed it safe to go hunting again. The next morning, he was up before dawn and getting you out of bed, too. He didn’t need to ask you to go. As he roused you, you smiled and said, “Let’s have squirrel stew for dinner.”

Daryl nodded. Soon the two of you were walking into the woods together.

The rest of the group noticed how you two were inseparable—even more so than before—and soon it became as natural as breathing. Everyone knew that where one of you went, the other would go, too.

Today, you were shopping for food. It was morning as you crept around the Dollar General store, eyes and ears peeled for signs of movement. It was just you and Daryl today. Glenn and Maggie were off in the other direction, doing reconnaissance while you and Daryl searched here for food and other supplies.

You rounded the back of the single-story building, so far not seeing anything that indicated trouble. Daryl was already there, his back to you, as he studied the surroundings.

You lowered your bow as you approached him. “It’s clear—”

Daryl spun around, crossbow aimed at you.

“Christ, woman!” he hissed, lowering his weapon.

You bit the inside of your lip to keep from smiling. “Not my fault you let me sneak up on you. That’s twice now.”

Daryl shouldered his bow. “Twice?”

“First time was at the quarry. Remember?”

“I heard ya when you unzipped the tent, ya know.”

You took a few steps closer until you were inches apart, and you smirked at him. “I wanted you to hear that part.”

“Mmm.” He didn’t seem convinced.

“I snuck up to your tent, just to see if I could—and I did. Wasn’t about to walk in there unannounced after the way you charged at Rick.”

Daryl huffed, a grin threatening his stern face.

“You know what you said to me, Daryl Dixon?”

Daryl shrugged. Most of that day was a haze now. He recalled some vivid images: Merle’s hand, Rick’s revolver, your tears as you cried for Merle. The sight of you sitting by his campfire, lonely and silent.

“I walked into that tent and You looked me up and said—” you screwed your face into a dark frown. “’Ain’t int’rested.’”

Had he said that to you? “Strange woman comin’ into my tent. What else could she want?” he murmured, feigning offense. “Not like you had a reason to care about me.”

Your expression softened, and that teasing smile was gone. “What can I say? Your surly nature charmed me.”

He scoffed.

“Honestly,” you sighed, “it was because you trusted me as soon as we met. You let me put those stitches in and—well that trust was something I valued. Still do.”

To this day Daryl couldn’t explain his vulnerability back then. To everyone else, he’d been defensive and pissed off. But you? You cried over Merle, over him, and still wanted to take care of him, despite all he’d done to Rick.

Both of you were quiet for a moment. Eventually, you turned to the back door of the Dollar General and reached for your tools. Your group had lost almost everything at the farm and had been scavenging since then. It was Glenn who found the locksmith’s tools in a broken down van. You almost kissed him on the cheek when he handed them to you. Daryl’s squinting gaze had you stopping short of that, so you’d just hugged Glenn instead.

Daryl had no reason to be jealous, and maybe that wasn’t the right word for it. Possessive was more apt. No one had ever prioritized you like Daryl had, as if you were his first and last thought in everything he did. You didn’t need his words to know you were loved.

You unlocked the door and stepped to the side, letting Daryl take point. Everyone back “home”—Earl’s Economy Storage—was hungry, and if this store didn’t have enough food, you and Daryl would drive to the nature trails and hunt again. For days if you needed to. The kids and Lori needed to eat.

Daryl parked the car near the three open storage units. You got out, opening the trunk, which was filled with bright yellow bags.

Your group was all smiles and made quick work of the groceries. Carol and T-Dog were in charge of the rationing now. Lori, Sophia, and Beth began sorting through the clothes and shoes.

“Good to see y’all back,” Rick called from his perch on the nearby roof. He paced while Carl sat beside him. On Carl’s lap rested a small caliber rifle.

You scooped up the remaining supplies and closed the trunk, making your way to Hershel.

The unit he shared with his family and Glenn had been diligently cleaned. The front corner housed a dresser, a table, and a cot. The doctor’s office. Together, you sorted through the medicine and bandages, neatly putting them away in their proper drawers. Part of the supplies went into a garish hot pink backpack. Your backpack.

When you were done, you and Hershel shared a brief hug. All of you hugged these days. Losing each other at any given moment was the harsh truth of this world.

Hershel patted you twice on the back, then you turned so that he could put the bag on your shoulders.

“How long’s it been since they left?” you asked, turning and glancing at your watch—Dale’s watch. A few days after the farm, Hershel had removed a couple of links from the band, so it sat comfortably on your wrist. Also decorating your arm was the bracelet that matched Daryl’s. Its yellow threads were fading, but the red flannel held strong, and its warm color comforted you every time you saw it.

“They’ve been gone ‘bout two hours,” Hershel said, putting away his pocket watch.

You nodded. “We’ll meet them out by the intersection of Rt. Nine and Tucker Road.”

“Y’all be careful out there.” Hershel said.

You nodded and went back outside.

Daryl was just coming down from the roof, and his eyes widened at the sight of your new bag.

Despite the bag’s outrageous appearance, you wore it with pride. Its existence, its contents help you feel more yourself. The self you’d been losing hold of since that dark night at the bar.

“Looks good on ya,” Daryl whispered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You heart filled with warmth. Daryl already knew what it meant to you, without you having to tell him. Things had been like that since the beginning. Somehow, Daryl always seemed to understand just who you were, like you were a book he’d been reading all his life.

It was your turn to climb the ladder. You squeezed Carl’s shoulder, and he tilted his head just enough to see you from under the wide brim of his oversized hat. He gave you a smile, but it lacked the cherubic innocence it once had.

“Good find, then?” Rick asked, standing with his legs shoulder-width apart. He looked exhausted, stressed, tense. His new normal.

You’d wrestled with your newfound resentment towards Lori and what she’d done to her husband. But the only thing you could do was support your friend and his son. And to make Rick’s job as leader a bit easier, if possible.

“Should be good for a week or two.”

“New tools help out?”

“God, yes,” you sighed. “So much easier that way.” You paused and grinned.

Rick cocked a brow.

“I snuck up on Daryl. He nearly jumped out of his skin.” You forced out what you hoped was a genuine chuckle.

Rick snorted and smiled. “Don’t let him live it down.”

To see Rick smile lightened your mood considerably. You had no words or coping strategies to help a man who carried the world on his shoulders, but if he could still find something to laugh about, then maybe he’d be okay.

On the ground, the car’s engine roared to life.

Rick holstered his revolver, and you hugged him quickly.

Then, you were down the ladder and climbing into the passenger seat. Kansas was already playing from the tape deck.

It was a real loss that Glenn Miller cassettes seemed to have been obliterated from this planet.

You put on your seatbelt and Daryl’s hand found yours.

“Ya good?”

“I’m good.” You gave his hand a squeeze. A yawn escaped you right then, taking control of your whole body.

Daryl let go of your hand and smoothed it along your leg, and he looked at you with concern. “Ya comin’ down with somethin’? It ain’t even past noon yet.”

You closed your eyes and sighed. “Good news, Dixon. Got my period this morning. Bad news? I got my period this morning.”

You weren’t sure if the news made him sad or relieved. Both maybe. Or perhaps you were projecting your own mixed feelings onto your boyfriend.

He took your hand again and kissed the back of it.

“Get some sleep. I won’t need ya ‘til we’re closer.”

“You sure? What if—”

“Woman,” he warned.

You gestured to the tape deck. “Fine, but this isn’t exactly ‘sleeping’ music, hon.”

He smirked at you. He ejected the tape and replaced it with another. Radiohead sounded over the speakers.

“Daryl, we really have to expand your musical horizons,” you mused.

He ignored you, whistling along with the opening bars of “Creep.”

A soft breeze blew through the open window, and the white lace curtains danced. However, your focus was entirely on your husband and his teasing, sensual grin. You were still groggy with sleep, but he was full of barely contained energy.

He was spooning you from behind, his sandy blond hair shining in the dawn light from the window. He turned your head just enough to kiss you briefly. Then his hand was pulling your thin nightie up over your hips and waist, and that same hand smoothed over your belly bump and into your panties.

He made quick work of you, and it wasn't long before you were whimpering and coming on his hand. He whispered lovely words in your ear. "Love ya so much, angel." "Yer beautiful, ya know that?"

Once you recovered from your orgasm, you rolled onto your back, smiling a sleepy smile at the love of your life. "Love you, too."

"Mmhmm," he hummed, kissing you again and again. Eventually he said, "C'mon, on your hands and knees for me."

It was your turn to give him a teasing smile. He helped you up on all fours, and then he settled behind you, between your legs.

The two of you were well practiced at this--after all the bundle of joy in your womb was the third miracle you'd created together. He eased into you and rocked against you slowly, gently. Quiet moans escaped you both.

He couldn't help but to cradle your rounded stomach for a few thrusts, but soon his hand was at the juncture of your thighs again, working you expertly into another orgasm.

He came a few thrusts later, afterward cuddling you to him in the bed, his hand grazing over you with gentle, loving caresses.

Downstairs, a child's squeal of excitement rang out, and quick footsteps made their way to the stairs.

You and your husband both sighed and chuckled.

"I'll take care of 'em," he said, kissing your cheek. He quickly had his pants on and was out the bedroom door. Though muffled by the walls, you still heard his voice—full of mock sternness—as he intercepted his son and daughter before they could disturb you.

You snuggled deeper into the bed, allowing yourself a few extra minutes of rest. In a few weeks, you'd be getting little of that.

It seemed like you'd been asleep less than a second before a gentle hand was shaking you knee and softly calling your name.

Your eyes flew open, and your hand went immediately to your hip, finding your Fällkniven just where it should be.

"Yer alright, Darlin'," the voice of your husband—no, the voice of Daryl, soothed you. "Just need those directions now."

It took you a moment to gather your wits. Kansas was on the radio again. The car's engine rumbled quietly. Outside, the world was mercifully still. No walkers to be seen, abandoned cars here and there along the county road.

"Sorry," you mumbled. "Was having this dream. It felt so real."

"'s'alright," Daryl told you.

You looked over at him, for a moment frozen and speechless. Dark circles were under his eyes; his light brown hair was greasy and unkempt; the scruff on his face had grown in unevenly. He seemed a shadow of the man from your dream, but you knew they were one and the same.

The sight of him now had your heart aching. Oh, the life you wanted for him: A simple, cozy house. Lazy, sunlit mornings. Happy children to make him smile and give him hope of a world better than this one.

Looking at him took your breath away, even now. Beneath his tired eyes and world-weary face was a brave, kind, protective man. And he was yours.

"Hey," he whispered, "what's wrong." His thumb stroked your cheek, and you realized you were crying.

"I-I'm just glad you're here."

He cupped your cheek. "'course 'm here."

You nodded and sniffed, but he still held onto you.

"Yer dream that bad?"

You blinked away more tears and stared at Daryl, your chest almost burning with the love for him. Holding his gaze, you said, "No, my dream was that good."

This is where the story ends. I have plans for a sequel (or two), but I don’t want to commit to writing anything like this until probably next summer.

What’s next for me is revising the a/b/o fic I started a while back, as well as some oneshots for various characters also played by Norman Reedus.

I will also be posting ‘deleted scenes’ from this story.

As always, I am taking requests.

Finally, a very special thanks to those of you who have replied and reblogged and encouraged me along the way. You made the effort worth it and gave me the courage to continue this process. I’ll always be indebted to you.

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#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #twd #twd fanfic #plus size #plus size reader #plus size fanfic #mdop #minerva writes #dd/xm #scars and stitches

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hoejosatoru · 2 years

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You and I Collide

Pairing: Fem!reader x Time skip!Draken

Summary: Y/n has struggled after the loss of her boyfriend, Baji. Feeling at a breaking point, she hopes to find solace in Draken, an old mutual friend. However, y/n finds her feelings for Draken quickly become complicated. Shout out to my bestie for helping me w the concept.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: MAJOR manga spoilers if you have not read through chapter 148 proceed with caution!! Grief/ take of death, drinking (mild), slow burn(ish) friends to lovers, dry humping, fingering, oral (fem receiving), p in v sex, cream pie, the works. Also everything is pretty much the same as cannon TR but pretend Baji got yoinked in college instead of HS.

Two moments defined your life: meeting Baji and Baji dying. They were divided so clearly, an ax falling on your life. Baji was the first person you met in college, plopping down next to you without a book or a pencil in sight. He was everything you weren’t: brazen, charming, and unapologetic. He asked your name with a smile playing on his lips and you knew. There would be no one for you but Baji.

If Baji was different from you, he was the antithesis of your ex (who dumped you right before college started because, “he wanted to have fun in college.” Over text no less). Your ex was perfectly coiffed with short blond hair, preppy clothes, and the desperate need for everyone to think he’s a good guy. Baji was a mess of dark hair, leather, and the desire to be absolutely nothing but himself. It wasn’t until you met him that you realized how wrong you were about what your “type” was.

You and Baji started dating almost immediately. It was weird, you wouldn’t have thought him as the relationship type, but he was absolutely devoted to you. College was easily the best 4 years of your life. Baji made you the best version of yourself, a person you never realized you wanted to be until it was your reality. You were on top of the world when you both graduated, planning to move in together and take on life together. A month later, Baji was dead, snuffing out the brightest light in your life.

Nothing made sense after his death. You completely withdrew from everyone and everything. You just couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy things like you did when you were with him. It felt wrong, impossible even, like trying to complete a puzzle when someone’s stolen a handful of pieces.

Baji has been gone over a year now, but it was still fresh as the day your phone rang with the news. You’ve been on autopilot ever since, doing just enough to get yourself through the day. Sometimes you went an entire day without registering what you were doing. Today was one of those days. Your feet were carrying you to a familiar place, though you haven’t been since Baji’s death. Draken’s bike shop.

Draken had been one of Baji’s closest friends, having met in middle school. He didn’t go to your college, opting to open his motorcycle repair shop instead, however he was part of your friend group so you spent a lot of time with him in college. He was always a nice guy, truthfully you had been closer with Mitsuya, but Draken was always pleasant and fun to be around. He was a good guy, which made it even more devastating when you heard of his girlfriend’s pasing.

It was a couple months after Baji had died and added to the crushing grief you were already dealing with. You had been pretty good friends with Emma, though you hadn’t spoken to her in a while. Not that you really had spoken to anyone in a while. You were devastated to hear of her passing. So much so that you almost didn’t make it to the funeral. The anxiety of reliving Baji’s funeral was damn near crippling, plus you were afraid to see all the friends you had been avoiding for months. However, you knew you couldn’t let her go without saying goodbye.

You slipped in and out mostly unsee. However, you did catch Draken’s eye during the ceremony. There was complete emptiness in them, one that you recognized all too well. It was like looking in the mirror. That was the last time you saw Draken, but you had thought about that look every day since. You wanted an excuse to come talk to him because he was the only person who could ever understand what you were feeling. However, you’d been a shitty friend and haven’t reached out in the way you knew you should. You weren’t sure how he would react to you showing up to his shop out of the blue, if he would even want to talk to you at all.

Those thoughts almost turned you around, but you were so close you pushed them down as low as possible. This was the first chance you were taking Baji died and you felt you really needed to see it through. That didn’t stop your stomach from doing flips as you turned onto the familiar corner. You took deep breaths as you approached the open garage, willing yourself to keep moving. You poked your head in, unable to hear anything over the pound of your heart in your ears. For a second you thought it was empty, but then a figure stood up from behind a bike. Draken.

You were frozen in place, everything you had rehearsed in your head escaping in an instant. You wanted to turn around and run, and you probably would have if his eyes hadn’t landed on you. The mirror stared back at you.

“Y/n?” It sounded like a question, but recognition was clear in his voice. You were afraid you were about to be told off when a soft smile spread across his face. “Haven’t seen you in forever, get over here.”

Your legs moved on their own volition, meeting Draken in the middle of his modest shop. He pulled you into an embrace, shocking you into stillness. He was warm, smelling of evergreen and spearmint with an undertone of motor oil. It was nice. You couldn’t remember the last time you were hugged.

“I’m sorry,” the words spilled out of you the second you pulled away.

“Whatever it is you think you need to apologize for, you don’t,” he replied, untangling the knot of anxiety in your stomach. Though the guilt still lingered like kinks in an old chain.

“Thank you,” you replied, not knowing what else to say. You practically forgot to interact like a normal human. If Draken noticed, he didn’t let it show.

“I was about to go on my break, why don’t you sit and join me?” he asked, motioning to the back of his shop. You recognized the green door, which led to the “staff room,” aka a cramped room with a beat up old couch. You and your friends spent many nights stuffed in their drinking and smoking and doing whatever the hell else people who believed they had their whole lives ahead of them did. Grief climbed up your spine, threatening to strangle you.

“Oh, um, I don’t want to impose on your break or anything,” you stammered out.

“Nonsense, a friend is never an imposition,” he stated. He turned around, walking towards the staff room, effectively preventing you from arguing further. You followed because, well, you didn’t know what else to do. His use of the word friend comforted you, like pulling on an old hoodie.

The staff room was exactly as you remembered it: dark, crappy lighting with air that always seemed a bit thicker than what was outside it. The patched up couch sat pressed against the wall and next to the folding table with mismatched chairs. You tried desperately to ignore the chair that Baji had always occupied as Draken went into the makeshift kitchen, which was just the corner of the room that had a minifridge and microwave.

He pulled out two water bottles, handing you one without asking if you wanted you. In that moment you remember how much a caretaker had been. You wouldn’t guess it by his cold exterior, but he really was a sweet guy, always looking out for his friends. You felt another wave of guilt for not reaching out to him sooner.

“Didn’t know you kept anything but beer in there,” you heard yourself say. It slipped out as the memory of cramming a ridiculous number of cheap alcohol came flooding back to you. Draken laughed, a welcomed sound.

“Don’t worry there is still plenty of beer in there,” Draken joked, plopping down on the couch. You mimicked him. He twisted open his water, down half the bottle before asking, “What brought you by today?”

“Oh right,” you replied, playing with the ripped label on your bottle, “I need a bike fixed up. Didn’t know who else to go to.” You cringed, feeling like you sounded cold. You haven’t talked to him in how long and you show up out of nowhere asking for his help? Who did you think you were?

Draken replied, unphased, “Didn’t think you were the motorcycle type.”

“I’m not,” you replied, desperately wanting to sound normal. You thought you were most definitely failing. “It’s for my brother, for his birthday. I bought a shitty old thing, but was hoping I could get it fixed up for him.”

“That I can do,” Draken nodded, “Might take some time, though. I’ll probably have to order parts and shit.”

“Of course,” you replied, “His birthday isn’t for another couple months, I was trying to get a head start.” Speaking it made it seem a lot sillier than it did in your head. Maybe because you knew it was sorta bullshit. Sure your brother has expressed an interest in getting a bike, but you didn’t know if he was serious. Deep down you knew this was all an excuse to meet Draken again. You needed a friend, needed someone who could understand the hell you were going through. Maybe it was fucked up to not be straightforward with him, but you wouldn’t have known where to start. So this ridiculous plot has been created.

“That should be perfect,” Draken replied, finishing off his drink.

“I’ll pay you for everything, of course,” you added, not wanting to sound like you were mooching off him.

Draken waved his hand dismissively, “I don’t make my friends pay.” There it was again. Friend. It shouldn’t give you such a thrill, but it did. You felt like you hadn’t had a friend in over a year, though it was very much self imposed. You’d always been a bit of a masochist.

“Seriously, let me pay,” you insisted.

Draken eyed you for a moment, considering, before replying, “How about you buy the parts and I do the work for free?”

“I can’t ask you to do that for me.”

“Good thing you’re not asking me then,” he replied with a soft, warm smile. It was hard to argue with that; still you were hesitant.

“I know, but sti-”

“Seriously y/n,” Draken cut you off as kindly as one can, “I’m happy to do it. But if it means that much, you can pay me with your time. Why don’t you bring the bike over next week and hang out while I work on it. It’s nice to have company.”

Hang out. When was the last time you did that? You knew the answer, but you quickly tried to push that line of thinking away. This was exactly what you wanted, someone to spend time with. Stiil, anxiety prickled over your skin as you thought of making plans for the first time in over a year.

“Yeah, okay. It’s a deal,” you answered before you could change your mind.

“Deal,” Draken echoed, sticking his hand out for you to shake on it. His hand was solid and calloused from years of working with them, you guessed. It felt warm. Real. You realized that if it had been anyone else, you probably would have said no.

“Say, do you even have a way of getting the bike here?” Draken asked as he stood up, reaching his arms over his head in a big stretch. The navy utility jumpsuit he wore stretched across his broad body.

"I was thinking I could just walk it over,” you replied, realizing how ridiculous that was as the words left your mouth.

“No way,” Draken replied, “I’ve got a truck to transport bikes. I can pick you up. How does next Saturday at eleven sound?” Something about his effortless kindness made you want to cry. It was so simple, but it made your throat tighten. You swallowed them down, not wanting to break down like a crazy person. You’ve come too far to do that now.

“Eleven sounds good,” you replied. Not like you had any other plans to worry about.

“Perfect,” he smiled, “My number’s still the same, text me your address whenever you get a chance.” He wasn’t at all trying to make you feel guilty, but you couldn’t help it. This shouldn't be the first time you’re texting after everything. You felt like a selfish idiot.

You nodded, turning quickly towards the door hoping he wouldn’t notice the shift in your demeanor. You really wanted to get out of there without crying. Draken followed you silently back out to the front of the shop. He only spoke as you were walking back out to the sidewalk.

“Hey y/n.” You paused, turning back to him, a knowing smile on his lips. “I’m really glad you stopped by.”

Your nails dug into your palm. You’re almost out, you can do this. “I am too,” you replied. It was the truth even if tears slipped down your cheeks as you stepped out onto the sidewalk. You walked home quickly, keeping your eyes down the whole time. For the amount of times you cried in public over the last year, you still weren’t used to people staring. Through your sadness, though, you felt the tiniest spark of what you could only label as hope. Faint as it may be, it was there, thanks to the prospect of rekindling your friendship with Draken. You kept it small, fearing being burned if you let it grow. Still, you allowed yourself to look forward to Saturday as you slipped into one of Baji’s old hoodies and curled into a ball on the couch.

***

Time is a tricky thing. Its movement is nonsensical. Sometimes it flies, passing by you in a mindless whirl, impossible to keep up with. That was how you felt when the 1 year anniversary of Baji’s death came up. It was incomprehensible that you could have spent 365 days without him. Other times it drags, each tick of the clock its own agonizing eternity. That is how it felt waiting for Saturday.

Finally, though, it came. The knock on your door made your heart leap, even though you had been expecting it. You paused in front of the mirror you normally ignore by your front door. You were in your most comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Not exactly fashionable, but you felt accomplished. Most of your weekends are spent in sweats- if you even manage to get out of pajamas that is.

“Hey,” you greeted, swinging open your door. You were surprised by how breathless you sounded. Getting ready takes a lot out of you.

“Hi,” Draken replied, “Wanna show me where the bike is?”

You nodded, “Follow me.” You led Draken around the back of your place to a storage shed for you and the tennet in the unit next door. Truth be told, you weren’t supposed to be keeping a motorcycle in there at all. You were relieved Draken was taking it off your hands before your landlord found it and chewed you out.

“It’s a little heavy,” you told him, trying to lug it out of its hiding spot. This shit was more than a little heavy.

“Let me,” Draken offered, noticing you struggling. He stepped in front of you, taking the bike from your hands and lifting it with ease. Damn. “Truck’s out this way.” You followed him back out front, marveling at how he carried the bike like it was nothing. Draken was always the biggest guy in your friend group, but it still surprised you just how big he was. He wasn’t wearing his jumpsuit now, making it easy to see the broad muscles in his back as he walked. He was certainly intimidating; if you didn’t know how sweet he was, you’d probably be scared of him.

“Did you get bigger since the last time I saw you?” you asked.

Draken chuckled, “You mean last week?”

“Shit, no, not what I meant,” you shook your head at yourself, “The time before that I guess.” You cringed, realizing the time before that was Emma’s funeral. God could you just say one thing without putting your foot in your mouth?

“Hmm probably,” Draken smiled, loaded the bike into the back of his truck, “Guess it comes with the job.” For as much as Draken smiled, it never quite reached his eyes. Comforting wasn’t the right word, but it made you feel somewhat validated. It was hard being around people with normal lives, not marred by grief in the way yours was. Their effortless joy was a reminder of what you lost. Though you would never wish what you were going through on anyone, it still sucked to always feel like the odd one out. With Draken, you knew you never would be.

You climbed into the passenger seat next to Draken, nerves swelling in your stomach. Your social interaction had really been watered down to what was necessary at work or when your friends demanded you let them come over to make sure you’re still okay. Okay being used very, very lightly - as in that you were still breathing pretty much. Those meetings have been fewer and farther between now. You think your friends didn’t know what to do with you. You were hard to be around, you didn’t really blame them.

“Do you live with someone?” Draken asked, pulling away from your place.

“It’s a duplex so I have someone above me, but I don’t have a roommate or anything,” you explained. Truthfully, the space was bigger than you needed. It was where you and Baji had moved in after graduation and couldn’t bring yourself to move out. You could remember him alive and well there, you couldn’t bear to move to a place he never saw or touched or laughed in. Never existed in. You were lucky your parents sent you some money to help with rent every month or else you wouldn’t be able to afford it without a roommate. It was pity money, but money nonetheless. “What about you?”

“On my own too,” Draken replied, mindlessly tapping his fingers on the wheel, “Still living right above the shop.”

“Right. Nice commute,” you attempted a joke. It felt flat leaving your mouth, but Draken still chuckled. You appreciated it, even if it might be fake.

“What’re you doing for work?” he asked, eyes on the road. It was easier to talk this way, without his eyes on you.

“Nothing special,” you replied, “just a bull shit office job.”

“An office job? I thought you wanted to be a writer?” Draken asked, surprising you. You had maybe mentioned that to him once or twice in passing. You couldn’t believe he remembered.

“You know how people say things have a way of working out?”

Draken’s brow piqued, eye shifting to you for a second. “Yes.”

“I’ve found that things also have a way of not working out,” you replied. Draken let out a laugh, one that you knew could not be out of pity. There was that flicker in you again, one that whispered of connection, hope.

“Don’t I know it.” The last few minutes of the ride were spent in comfortable silence. Draken’s place wasn’t too far from your’s, so it wasn’t a long ride. You followed Draken wordlessly into the shop. You stepped carefully, not wanting to bump anything or trip or do anything else to embarrass yourself. You stood next to a sturdy-looking steel cabinet as Draken got the bike set to inspect.

“Where’d ya get this bike?” Draken asked, keeping his face purposefully straight. You reckoned he was trying to be nice because it really was a piece of junk.

“Uh, craigslist,” you admitted.

“No wonder it’s such a piece of shit,” Draken laughed, and you allowed yourself to laugh too. It felt light in your chest, a reprieve from the normal weight that found its home there.

“Is it fixable?” you asked, chewing on your lip. You felt a flood of panic. What if there was nothing he could do? You need this excuse to push you to come out and see him, you weren’t sure what you would do without it.

“Oh I can definitely fix it,” Draken reassured you, “You’re lucky you know such a great mechanic. Here, get comfortable, we are gonna be here awhile.” Draken pulled up a stool for you. You sat, leaning against the steel cabinet, comforted by how the cool metal bled through your shirt and onto your skin. It made you feel grounded.

Draken got out a clipboard, circling the bike and making notes. You quietly observed as he sat, looking closer at the engine. There was a soft intensity to his face as he zeroed in on different parts of the machine.

“How have you been doing since Baji died?” Draken asked, scribbling down another note. You were taken aback by his directness. Most people dance around it, trying to sugarcoat it with phrases like “passed” or “gone to a better place.” It made you irrationally mad. Baji was dead, there is no way to make that sweet. And there was no better place for him than by your side.

You drew in a breath, trying to calculate how honest you wanted to be, but the words were tumbling out by the time you exhaled. “Terrible. Fucking terrible. It still hurts like the first day. I’m a fucking mess, honestly.”

You looked up, startled to find Draken’s eyes on yours. There wasn’t an ounce of pity in them, only understanding. It was refreshing. “Baji was such a good fucking guy,” Draken replied, “shit’s fucking awful.”

You nodded, unable to stop now that you were started. “I still don’t believe it at times. Like I keep hoping one day I’ll wake up and this was all a nightmare. But it’s not and I just have to keep going somehow.” You swallow deeply, desperately trying to not cry.

“I was so fucking mad after Emma’s funeral,” Draken replied, “At everyone and everything. I remember the sky was so blue the day after and I was so fucking pissed, like how could the world be so bright without her? I’ve never been so dramatic.” He laughed humorlessly, staring down at his hands.

“No I completely get that,” you said, “It feels like everything is moving on like normal, but you know there’s no normal for you anymore.”

“Exactly,” Draken nodded. He paused for a second, before adding, “It’s nice to have someone who gets it. People who haven’t been through it just don’t get it.” Something about his words forced tears to the front of your eyes. Part of you had worried that Draken was not going to be the support you so desperately hoped he would be ever since you saw him at the funeral. You were relieved to finally have someone who understands you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, wiping your eyes. You knew you could get the tears to stop quickly - you’ve had to become really good at that. Especially in public.

“Told you last week, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Draken stated, “Plus, we got a no apology rule in this garage.” He nodded to a sign on the wall that read, “the customer is always wrong.” You surprised yourself by letting out a laugh.

“Thanks, I need that. I feel like I forgot to do this whole thing,” you replied, motioning between the two of you, “I always feel like I say or do the wrong thing now.”

“I get that,” Draken nodded, “But you don’t have to worry about this here, okay? Talk, don’t talk, fuck you could do cartwheels around the place if that helped. I know how much it sucks, so don’t worry about all that shit.” You bit back another round of tears, managing only a small thank you. Draken smiled knowingly and returned to his work. The gratitude you felt was damn near unbearable.

And so you did just as Draken said - well minus the cartwheels. Over the next few weeks as Draken worked on the bike, the two of you talked. A lot. You talked more in those few weeks than you did in the last year. Sometimes you spoke about Baji and Emma, but mostly you just talked about, well, whatever.

You also did a lot of not talking, which was never awkward. Where others seemed to hold their breath around you, Draken breathed easy. He had good days and bad days, just as you did. It comforted both of you to never have to explain the need to disappear inside yourself or the occasional tear that slipped out seemingly out of nowhere. It was like a weight being lifted off your chest; you were taking your first true breaths since Baji died.

There were a few other people who worked at the garage, though they mostly kept to themselves. The one that you talked to the most was Inui. He was kind, but you could tell he has been through something too. Grief followed people like a shadow, you discovered, and once you knew how to spot it was impossible to miss. You saw that shadow hanging over Inui and you were certain he saw it over you too. You reckoned that’s why you got along so well.

Today was a fairly good day. It was later, everyone else long gone for the night, and you and Draken settled into a comfortable silence. Despite the weeks of spending nearly every spare second at the shop, you didn’t know shit about motorcycles. However, that did not stop you from enjoying watching Draken work. He was meticulous and focused, often not even stopping to brush a dark lock of hair that would fall in his eyes. You picked on his little quirks: the furrow of his brow when something was stumping him, his tongue poking through his lips when he was on the brink of solving it. He knew yours too, knowing with a single word if you needed him to pull a laugh out of you or to let you cry. It was nice to know someone, and to be known.

A drumming pulled you from your thoughts. It took you a second to register that it was rain hitting the roof. “Shit,” you breathed, hopping down from the counter to walk over to the front window. It was a complete downpour. “I picked a crappy day to walk here.”

“No way I’m letting you walk home in that,” Draken stated, not even looking up from his work.

“Can we take the truck?” you suggested.

Draken shook his head, “I let Inui use it. Won’t be back till tomorrow.”

“What’re we gonna do?” you asked.

“You’re gonna stay here, dummy,” Draken answereded, as if it was obvious.

“I couldn't,” you replied, shaking your head. For as much time as you have spent at the garage, you’ve never gone into Draken’s place.

“Why not?” Draken asked, wiping his hands on a greasy towel. He was getting ready to clean up for the night.

“I don’t wanna bother you,” you admitted. There was still a small fear in you that you were going to overstay your welcome. That one day, Draken would ask you to not come back. You don’t know if you would be able to handle that.

“If you bothered me, I’d let you walk home in the rain,” Draken replied, then added with finality, “It’s supposed to storm all night. You’re staying here.”

“Alright fine,” you caved. Another thing you learned about Draken: once he made up his mind, there was no chance of changing it. You helped him clean up where you could, then followed him up to his place.

You don’t know what you expected, but it was nice. Small, but well kept, so it felt more spacious than it should. There were lots of tones of grays and blacks, all the furniture simple and worn in. You could tell a boy lived there, but not in a bad way. You sat on the couch as Draken ducked into the kitchen to wash his hands.

“Wow this thing is more comfortable than it looks,” you noted, patting the charcoal fabric, “It’ll be nice to sleep on.”

“Too bad you’re not sleeping there,” Draken replied, drying his hands on his pants, “I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed.”

“No way!” you protested, “I’m already inconveniencing you, I’m not taking your bed too.”

Draken playfully rolled his eyes at you, “It’s not a big deal. Like you said the couch is comfy.”

“You’re so freaking stubborn,” you groaned, flopping back against the couch.

“Oh please look who’s talking,” Draken shot back, sitting next to you. The couch sunk under his weight, causing you to slide over close to him. “I’ve got an idea, though.”

You sat up, intrigued, “Which is?”

“Let’s hang out here, watch a movie or something. Whoever falls asleep first stays out on the couch and the other person can get the bed,” Draken explained, clearly proud of thinking up that plot. You could live with that.

“Deal.” You stuck out your hand, his warm, rough palm meeting you cold one. It was made official with a quick shake.

“Now let me get you something to sleep in,” Draken stood up, stretching.

“That’s cheating,” you replied, “Trying to get me all comfortable so I’ll fall asleep first.”

Draken kept walking back to what you presumed was his room. “Well if I fall asleep first do you really wanna sleep in those jeans?” His voice carried through the apartment.

He had a point. “No, I guess not.”

“Good,” Draken replied, reappearing in the living room with a ball of clothes in his hands, “Because if you slept in jeans I don’t think I could trust you anymore.” You giggled as Draken tossed the clothing at you. Mercifully, you caught it. “That’s the smallest stuff I have. Bathroom’s the first door on the right. Feel free to use whatever is in there.”

You found the bathroom easily, closing the door softly behind you. For being the smallest clothing he had, the sweats and shirt were still oversized on you. You had to roll the sweats over a few times so they’d stay up on your hips. You resigned to letting the shirt hang on your frame. You splashed some water in your face and swished around a little mouthwash that was out on the counter before exiting.

You returned to the living room, finding that Draken changed too. He was in a gray pair of sweats that fit him much better than yours. The black tee he wore clung to his frame, showing off his toned body. It was strange to see so much of him; you were used to seeing him in a thick work jumpsuit layered over hoodies. You were surprised to feel a blush rise in your cheeks. It felt almost too intimate, seeing him sprawled out on the couch like this.

Draken’s laughter pulled you from your thoughts. “You look ridiculous,” he snickered.

“Well maybe if you weren’t such a giant,” you huffed, joining him on the couch. You kept a safe distance, though you found yourself drifting closer over the course of the night, unconsciously drawn to his warmth. Without realizing it, you fell asleep.

It took you a few moments to remember where you were when you woke up. The scent of the sheets, a warm evergreen, reminded you. Draken’s place. You turned over, breathing in the scent that you so quickly learned to associate with comfort.

Then it hit you.

You were in the bed, when you did not remember going back to it last night. You must have fallen asleep first and Draken must have carried you back here. Your cheeks tinted as you thought of Draken picking you up, holding you so close to him. There was an undercurrent to your self consciousness that you couldn’t quite place. You didn’t have time to think about it, you were off to yell at him for not keeping up his end of the deal.

You found him on the couch, coffee mug in hand. A triumphant smirk spread across his lips when he saw you. “Morning sleeping beauty,” he teased. You cursed yourself for not at least checking a mirror to make sure your hair wasn’t all over the place. It tended to get a mind of its own when you slept.

“I didn’t know you were a liar,” you narrowed your eyes at him. You weren’t truly mad, but you couldn’t let him get away with it unscathed.

“I didn’t lie,” Draken replied, “Had my fingers crossed when we shook on it. Everyone knows that negates the shake.”

“Okay fine then you’re a sneak,” you shot back.

Draken stood up, stretching. His shirt lifted revealing his lower stomach. You tried to ignore the little trail of hair that disappeared into his sweats. “Yeah well this sneak made sure you got a good night’s sleep.” He flicked your forehead lightly as he walked into the kitchen and you smacked his arm back.

“At least let me make you breakfast?” you tried.

“Now that I can agree to,” Draken replied, holding both his hands up, “And look, not a finger crossed.”

“Gee, thanks.”

The rest of the day went on as normal. Well, normal except for a nagging feeling in your lower stomach. It bubbled up again when Draken sat in the kitchen, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he watched you prepare breakfast for you two. It wasn’t like your anxiety - that feeling you knew too well - nor was it like that little flicker of hope you felt. Which, at this point, was a full on blaze despite your best efforts to keep it under control. You couldn’t help it, Draken made you happier than you ever thought you could be after everything that happened. After going to long feeling nothing but aching and emptiness, you didn’t want to have to subdued the joy, no matter how reckless that was.

You chalked it up to self consciousness and tried not to think of it. It was still weird for you to be around someone so much. Even though Draken never made you feel judged, you still couldn’t shut that critical little voice in your head that told you something could go wrong at any moment. You figure this feeling was that voice rearing its ugly head. As the next few weeks passed, the feeling came and went, but you persisted as usual.

Until a particularly shitty day. You were awoken in the morning by a phone call, your anxiety immediately spiking. Ever since Baji died, your phone ringing became a trigger for you. It reminded you of getting the call, the one stopped the rotation of your world. Every time you heard your phone ring, you relived that moment. You don’t know how the hell your phone got switched on from silent.

You were on edge for the rest of the day because of that. Your boss was more of a dick than usual and you ended up crying in the bathroom on your lunch break. All you wanted to do was get home and crawl into a ball. When you were finally able to do that, however, you found a hair tie in your pajama drawer. Your heart plummeted to your stomach. Your feet were carrying you to Draken’s before your mind could catch up. All you wanted was to see him, you knew you’d calm down once you did.

The second Draken saw you, he knew something was wrong. It was just him in the garage today, which you were grateful for. “You look like you need a drink,” Draken stated, setting down his tools. His words were calm but there was concern at the edges of them. You nodded, not trusting your words just yet. “Come on, I was about to finish up anyway.” It was a lie, but you appreciated it.

Draken led you to the staff room, handing you a beer from the mini fridge. Just like old times, you thought darkly. You took a swig, downing a quarter of the bottle by the time Draken sat next to you.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked, lips at the edge of the bottle.

“Just a shitty day at work I guess,” you mumbled, picking at the label of the beer.

Draken set his drink down on the coffee table. “Come on, y/n, it’s me. What’s really going on?”

You drew in a deep breath, gathering your strength to speak. “I was having a shit day at work,” you began, “but I found one of Baji’s hair ties at home. He fucking left those things everywhere. I can’t believe I even still find ‘em…” Your voice trailed off, stifled by an ache in your chest. Draken waited quietly for you to continue. “It’s weird, sometimes they feel like him saying he’s there with me. But mostly they just feel like a fucking reminder that he’s not here anymore.” You opened your mouth to say more, but found no words coming. Tears streaked down your cheeks, dripping onto your lap.

Draken was quiet for a few moments. His hand found yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he started speaking. “Emma had these little hair pins. I swear she left a fucking trail of them everywhere she went. I find them too, from time to time,” he paused, drawing in a shaky breath, “It’s a gut punch every time I find one. But sometimes I’m scared of the day I stop finding them. Like then she’ll really be gone.”

Tears escaped Draken’s eyes. You felt such a strong urge to wipe them away, to hold him, to be held by him. But you couldn’t move a muscle. You both just sat there, quietly crying, your hands intertwined.

It was Draken who broke the silence. “Look at us fucking cryin’ over hair acessories.” You both laughed despite your tear-stained cheeks.

“They’re probably rolling their eyes at us right now,” you replied, wiping your eyes, “Baji especially. I know he’s fucking tired of me.”

“Oh trust me I know Emma’s sick of this shit too,” Draken replied. He reached over, running his thumb across your cheek, collecting a tear you missed. Your blood roared in your ears, the nagging in your stomach flaring.

“You think Emma would want you to move on?” You asked.

“Definitely,” Draken replied, “She’d want me to be happy. I haven’t been so good about that, but I know it’s what she’d want.”

“I think Baji would want me to be happy too,” you said, “Though I think he’d be happier to see me with a girl, not another guy.”

Draken let out a laugh. “That sounds like Baji,” he continued after a pause, “He would want you to be happy, though. I don’t know a lot, but I’m certain of that.” You weren’t able to fight the urge to hug him anymore, throwing your arms around him.

“Thank you Draken,” you murmured, tucking your face into his neck. His arms found your waist, squeezing you closer. You breathed in his scent, an instant sense of calm washing over you. You stayed like that longer than you expected, basking in each others’ warmth and touch. No part of you wanted to separate yourself from him, but eventually you did.

When your eyes found his, it hit you. That nagging in your stomach wasn’t anxiety or self doubt or any of that shit. It was a crush - no - it was stronger than a crush. It was a want, a need for Draken. For his voice, his touch, his presence, his lips, his love. Your thoughts were coming faster than you could process him, but you could instantly read the look in Draken’s eyes. He felt the same as you.

Within the space of a breath, your lips crashed together. The kiss was desperate and needy and fucking good. He pulled you onto his lap with ease, his lips not so much as parting from yours. You were all over each other, hands and lips exploring every bit of skin they could find. Draken’s hands were rough and warm, but his touch was so gentle it sent a shiver down your spine.

You leaned further into him, your core pressing against his solid thighs. You were surprised by the gasp that left your mouth. The thin fabric of your leggings was nothing against the texture of his jumpsuit. Your hips rolled again, moaning softly against his lips. Draken responded instantly, his hands finding your hips.

“Feel good?” his voice was barely a whisper. If you weren’t so close to him, you never would have heard it.

“Mmhmm,” you whimpered, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

“Don’t stop,” he replied, breathless. His lips reattached to yours as his hands guided your hips over his thigh. You continued mindlessly, grinding against his thigh without an ounce of shame. It felt too fucking good to care. In that moment, you could think of nothing but your pleasure.

The world seemed to cease outside the two of you. All that mattered was the taste of him and the pleasure blooming in your lower stomach. You weren’t even surprised when you found yourself close to the edge.

“Dra- nghh - Draken,” you gasped, breaking the kiss. Draken pressed his forehead to yours, not wanting you to get too far.

“Just like that, baby, getting yourself all worked up huh?” he cooed, peppering kisses on you. You nodded, responding with whines instead of words. “Let yourself go.” You were cumming as soon as the words left his lips. It was a fire through your veins, spreading pleasure through your entire body.

“Yeah that’s it, good girl,” Draken murmured against your neck. You collapsed against him, breathing ragged. You should feel good, relaxed, but your heart began hammering in your chest.

What did you just do? You stiffened, panic seized your body as the buzz of your orgasm wore off. Hooking up with your dead ex’s best friend? What the fuck was wrong with you? You pulled away, startling Draken.

“I have to go.” You practically fell out of his lap, scrambling to find the door.

“Y/n wa-”

“I’m sorry I- fuck, I-,” the words came out in a senseless mess, “I can’t I have to go.” You turned on your heel and booked it, unable to bear the way he looked at you.

You were sobbing by the time you hit the sidewalk. You were practically running home, breathless and hiccuping the whole time. You felt like an idiot. The one good thing, the only good thing, in your life fucking ruined. How could you do this to Baji? To Draken? You hated yourself for allowing this to happen.

You somehow made it to your bed, anxious and exhausted. You were consumed by your tears, anger, fear and self pity until, by some grace, you fell into a restless sleep.

***

A few agonizing days passed. You called out of work, faking illness, which wasn’t too hard to fake considering you sounded like shit. You barely moved from your bed, alternating between staring at the ceiling, numb, and sobbing into your pillow. It reminded you of losing Baji, the hurt felt deep in your bones.

The worst part was, the one person you wanted was the person you couldn’t see. When you hurt like this, Draken was the only person who could heal your wounds. And now because you couldn’t contain yourself, you lost that. The weight of it sat so heavily on your chest you could barely breathe.

A week later there was a knocking at your door. You sighed, exhausted from having showered that morning, and dragged yourself to the front door. You braced yourself for a lashing from your landlord. You forgot to pay rent on time. Again.

Your knees buckled when you found Draken’s frame filling your doorway.

“We need to talk,” he stated, stepping into your place before you could protest. His voice was calm and unreadable. You sat across from him on the couch, anxiety settling like a stone in your stomach.

Draken surprised you by saying, “I’m sorry.” You stared for a few moments and he continued in your silence, “I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean to push you like that.” Hurt seeped into his voice. Or maybe it was regret. You cringed.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you replied quickly, wanting to absolve him of the guilt. “It’s my fault. I fucked this all up.”

“Nothing’s fucked up,” Draken scowled, “Don’t fucking give up on me like that. Just talk to me.”

You just started talking because if you thought about it, you’d never get a thing out. “I’m sor- I mean fuck - I don’t know what came over me. When we, um,” you paused, blushing under the weight of his eyes, “did that, I was just shocked I guess. Not because of you or anything you, you were good - I mean - uh well you know. I just didn’t expect to… want that or to, like, enjoy it.” You stopped, cheeks thoroughly red at this point. You collected yourself for a final few words, “I felt… guilty I guess. For liking it. I haven’t been with anyone since Baji. I felt wrong, but it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. At all.”

Draken was silent as you spoke, his response impossible to gauge. Finally, with his eyes on his hands, he spoke. “I hooked up with a girl a couple months after Emma died. I was depressed and drunk as shit. I really wasn’t in the right mind then. This girl approached me at the bar and I ended up at her place. I felt fucking disgusting after. Nothing against her, it wasn’t her fault. How could she have known, ya know? But I just felt like such a piece of shit. I thought I was never gonna feel good about someone again,” he looked up, eyes locking on yours, “And then you walked in my garage.”

He held your gaze for a few moments, letting his words settle over you. He continued, “I was surprised by how much I wanted it, too. Then when you ran of like that, fuck, I was so scared y/n. I thought I ruined everything. This past week I’ve been a fucking mess. Inui’s on my ass and everything. All I wanted to do was see you but I didn’t wanna make shit worse.”

You didn’t know what to say, but you knew you hated seeing Draken hurt. You threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly as tears spilled from both of your eyes. “‘M sorry Daken, and don’t tell me not to apologize,” you mumbled, “Shouldn’t have run like that.”

Draken held you like he could lose you, fiercely but cautiously. Like at any moment you could disappear. “Didn’t do anything wrong,” he replied, breath fanning across your neck, “Just missed you so much. Don’t wanna lose you.”

It was easier for you to talk like this, feeling him close to you and not having to look at him. “Draken, I… I like you, a lot. So much it kinda fucking scares me. I don’t even know what to do.”

Draken pulled back just enough so he could look at you. You couldn’t help it, your eyes fell to your lap. Draken tsked, “Hey, come on, it's me angel. Look at me.” His voice was too soft to ignore. You held his gaze, your stomach fluttering.

“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” he replied, his thumb rubbing small circles on your back, “This is all new to me. But I know there isn’t anyone else I’d rather figure it out with.” He kissed away a tear sliding down your cheek. “I want you,” his lips ghosted across your skin as he spoke, “If you’ll have me.”

“I want you Kenny,” you murmured, locking your arms around his neck. He kissed you once, twice. Pulling back each time with a tender smile. “Take me to bed.” And so he did, lifting with the same ease as when he lifted that bike all those weeks ago. Your legs locked around his waist as he carried back to your room.

Draken set you down on your bed gently, taking just a second to smile down at you before climbing on top of you. You welcomed the weight of his body on yours, sturdy and strong. The press of his chest on yours, his thighs caging you in, his rough palms running up and down your sides. It all intoxicated you.

You needed more of him, wanting to feel his skin on yours. You were sick of there being any barrier to his warmth, even if it was just t shirts. “Tryna get me naked, huh?” Draken smirked at you frantically trying to find the hem of his shirt.

“Maybe,” you shot back, yanking it half way off him. Draken chuckled as he pulled it all the way and tossed it to the floor. Your eye scanned his muscular body, feeling your thighs instinctively rub together. Then you saw something that surprised you, a scar on his lower stomach. You ran your finger over it, the skin slightly raised. “What’s this?”

“Stab wound scar,” Draken responded, as if that was a perfectly normal response. Your stomach dropped, remembering how Baji died. You hated seeing this, knowing Draken got hurt. Knowing how vulnerable he could be.

“I’m wrapping you in bubble wrap,” you replied.

Draken laughed, “I thought you wanted me naked.”

“Hmm,” you faked thinking, “Naked, then bubble wrap.” You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his scar. While you were there you kissed up his body, Draken’s eyes sparking with lust as he watched. Once your lips found his again, he was back in motion. Draken got to work on your clothes, stripping off your top and bra with only the slightest break in the kiss to get your shirt over your head. He kissed down your neck, pausing occasionally to suck on the spots that made you squirm.

He found your breasts, taking one in his mouth while attending to the other his hands. His calloused touch raised goosebumps on your skin pulled soft moans from your lips. He spent his time there working you up, before kissing down your body. You watched with bated breath as he slid your legging and underwear off your legs.

“Shit baby,” he mumbled, “S’wet for me and I’ve barely touched ya.” He ran finger through your wetness, making your hips buck slightly, desperate to have the ache satiated. Draken licked his lips, watching you clench around nothing. “Gonna have to prep you for me angel, that okay?” He was smirking, knowing you’d never say no.

“Please Draken,” you whined. Draken obliged, licked a stripe of your pussy.

“So sweet,” he murmured before getting to work. Draken wasn’t shy, eating you out with an enthusiasm that made you blush. He was messy, tongue and lips everywhere, working you up with ease. His lips landed on your clit, sucking lightly. You gasped, your hands sliding into his dark hair.

“Kennie,” you moaned as he slid a finger into your needy pussy. Draken was spurred on by his name on your lips, curling his finger inside you to keep those pretty noises coming. After a few moments he slid another in, giving you a nice stretch. Your fingernails raked across his scalp, making his cock throb. He wanted to be inside you so bad, but he wasn’t a man who didn’t finish what he started.

“Gonna cum on my tongue angel?” he questioned, not even giving you a second to answer before returning to your pussy. You opened your mouth to reply, but it was swallowed up by moans as your pussy throbbed around his fingers. Sweet warmth flooded your body as you came, Draken eagerly licking up every last bit as you did. When he finally came up for air he wore a coy grin, his lips and chin shining from your release.

You pulled him in the back of his neck, your mouths crashing together. You kissed sloppily, tasting yourself on him. Even though you just came, you wanted him so bad it ached. “Need you,” you said breathlessly against his skin.

“I got you angel,” Draken whispered back, leaning back to rid himself of the rest of his clothes. Draken naked was truly a sight to be seen. He looked like some sort of sculpture, his skin taught across his muscles. His cock hung heavy between his thighs. He was as big as promised. “You’re staring,” Draken smiled.

You blushed, which only made Draken smile wider. “Sorry. Can’t help it.”

“Love when you blush like that. So fucking pretty f’me” Draken said, peppering kisses from your chest, to your cheeks, to your lips.

“Need to feel you in me Kennie,” you mumbled, looking at him in a way that made him melt and heat up at the same time.

“Gonna go nice ‘n slow okay? And tell me if it hurts,” he said, taking his cock in his hand. He lined himself up to you, his tip ghosting against your sensitivity. Draken pressed a kiss to your forehead as he pressed the tip into your tightness. “Shit,” Draken hissed, “So fucking tight for me angel.”

Your hands gripped at the sheets as he pushed further into you. It didn’t hurt, necessarily, but it was a strange sensation to have your body opening up for someone. When he finally got himself fully in, you felt so full it was almost enough to make you cum again right then and there. Draken looked at you for permission to move, which you gave him with a nod. He moved his hips slowly at first, both for you and him. It has been a while for him too and he was trying not to bust too soon.

“Fuck, pretty girl, squeezing me so good,” He moaned, his head falling back slightly. His fingers laced through yours as he picked up his pace. Any bit of discomfort melted away to pure pleasure. Each roll of his hips brought you closer to the edge and Draken could tell.

“Ken- ngh- nie, shit you feel so good.” Your voice was breathless and needed. You could feel Draken throb in response.

“Look at me baby, wanna see you,” Draken instructed softly. Your eyes connected to his and they were so full of love it took your breath away. The intimacy of it all sent you over the edge. Your back arched off the bed, pushing you ever closer to him. You moaned his name, feeling this orgasm that was somehow better than the first one consume you. Seeing you like this chipped away at the last of Draken’s willpower. He came with you, the warmth of his release filling you. He slowed himself, letting you both enjoy every last bit of this moment.

When you were both fully spent, Draken pulled out of you gently, breathing heavy on the bed next to you. He pulled you into his chest, kissing the top of your head as you nuzzled into the warmth of his skin. The room fell into silence as the two of you caught your breath.

“What do you think Baji and Emma are thinking right now?” you asked. You weirdly did not feel guilty. This with Draken felt so right you couldn’t feel bad about it. You knew Baji would have wanted you to move on anyways.

It may have been weird to bring up your dead exs after sex with anyone else, but Draken just laughed, holding you closer. “They’re just happy our dumbasses finally realized we’re in love.”

#my writing #draken smut #ken ryuuguji x y/n #ken ryuuguji smut #draken x y/n #draken fic #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers fanfiction

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mun-akoon · 2 years

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I don't even really shop a lot at all, usually go for the important stuff and with a list in mind, but today for the first time I actually fell under the saying "shop till you drop" and I don't know how people do this frequently, unless they are trying to lose weight of course or I'm very unfit

#I don't even carry the bags because I have the grandma wheelie shopping bag #today I just did group shopping instead of dividing it into days #And of course it is nice and fun buying things you love or even just need #And owning something new etc #But to shop on like a date or with friends just isn't my thing #I need to get this done and go home #It really is me and my wheelie against you shopping freaks #personal

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kashi-prompts · 3 years

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Prompt: Above (but slightly altered)

Pairing: Kakashi x Reader (POV alternates between them)

Wordcount: 4,963

Rating: M

Trigger Warning: Graphic depictions of domestic violence, implied/suggested rape, and violence

A/N: Ok, so I got carried away with this one. This prompt has been in my head for a long time, and I didn’t know where I wanted to go with it. But if you’re a little emo millennial like I am, you’ll remember the song “Face Down” by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus that came out in like, 2010 or something. I listened to this song over and over again one day while I was driving and this idea came to my head. Please abide by the trigger warnings, as I feel this is pretty triggering. But I do hope those of you who enjoy the whole angsty vibe enjoy this.

And [y/f’s/n] = Your friends name

Prompt below the cut:

"Over here," the grip of his hand on your upper arm alerted you that you were moving through the crowd too quickly. He directed you back down the path he wanted to go. Hundreds of people lined the main street of Konoha in the culmination of the day's festival. You looked up, adjusting your kimono as you noted some teens arranging fireworks to be set off on the roof across from you.

"This is a festival to celebrate love and relationships," you reminded your husband, frowning as he continued away from the festival's main road. You pushed a piece of hair away from your face, the hot air causing it to stick to your forehead with sweat.

"What does it matter? We're already married, aren't we?" Aiko sighed, his irises pointing north in irritation. You noticed and agreed not to speak of it again.

"Hey, Jiro!" Aiko's demeanor changed instantly at the sight of his friends huddled around a table, sake being poured generously all around. Slapping his hand between the man's shoulder blades, you watched your husband smile for the first time that day.

Within moments, the lanterns in the streets were lit, and a glass of the fermented alcohol shoved haphazardly in your hand. The three men leaned against the table as you watched more people walk by, snippets of conversations passing you. You smiled dolefully as a young couple crossed the path before you, their enamored expressions radiating off their faces.

You wearily twisted your wedding band with your thumb.

Across the street, three men leisurely pitched themselves against the plank siding of Konoha's Dango shop. Despite the men lacking the commonly ordered shinobi uniform, one could still discern the nature of the three ninjas simply the way they displayed themselves. Although they were not on duty at the moment, their demeanor barely skimmed the surface of leisure.

"Oiy," one burly gentleman sighed, exasperated by his friend's lack of interest, "Kakashi, won't you put that book down? Just enjoy the evening."

The taller man shrugged, the tilt of his grey hair below the paper lantern above casting a shadow over his already partially covered face. He turned another page calmly, not looking up.

"I'm here, aren't I? Isn't that enough for you both?" Kakashi responded, his thumb resting between the pages of his novel. A single dark eye glanced up at the two men.

"Just listen to Guy," the brown-haired man exhaled, gesturing to the enthusiastic friend between them. "It would be nice to have you present once in and while. Maybe you can find a girlfriend here instead of always relying on that stupid book of yours for pleasure."

Kakashi sighed heavily, scoffing at his friend and snapping the book shut in his palm, replacing it in the pocket of his kimono. Above them, the sudden popping sounds of fireworks shooting into the night sky filled the air.

"I love the energy here," the man named Guy proclaimed suddenly, turning to look at the teenagers on the roof above them set up another round of colorful bursting rockets. The man clenched his fists in enthusiasm, smiling broadly.

"I remember being that young," he said suddenly, "the rich life of youth!"

Kakashi folded his arms across his chest and slumped deeper against the building. He had waited for this festival to end hours ago, imagining the familiarity of his warm bed at home and the burning desire for his mind to rest in the comfort of the book in his pocket.

As the stream of citizens bustling down the dirt street finally divided, the silver-haired shinobi's eye settled on a woman across the street. Despite the clarity of her disquieted gaze, her appearance caught the shinobi's attention as his eye swiveled back to her.

For a moment, something within his mind was set ablaze. The silver-haired man tilted his chin, studying the woman as she nursed a small glass of the clear liquid in her hand. Her slender fingers tapped against the drink while her thumb nervously twisted at the silver band on her ring finger.

Behind his mask, he frowned slightly. She was taken, obviously. How could she not be? There was a grace to her that would be swept up by any man lucky enough to get close to her. Despite the obvious conclusion that he had made about her status, his eyes couldn't seem to leave her. The uneasy expression on her delicate features tugged at something within him.

"I'm going to go get us a drink," Tenzo clapped a hand to his thigh, leaning forward from the wall. "Sound good?"

Kakashi nodded, looking away from the woman as another pack of eager teenagers wandered between her and the men. Instead, he watched Yamato push his way to the bar across the street where she stood, offering three fingers to the bartender in request.

As Yamato waited, Kakashi observed the man at the table in front of the bar. A boisterous laugh echoed from the man's husky chest, slamming down an empty glass that once held a generous amount of sake.

"If I really wanted to, I could take on any of these shinobi," Kakashi heard the man say to his friend. "I don't need to know any of that ju-ju shit."

Beside him, Guy was oblivious to the entertainment unfolding before them. Kakashi managed to stifle a chuckle, looking away as the man began to roll up his sleeve to show off his beefy arm muscles. His single eye swiveled back to the woman, clearly embarrassed by the man's humiliating masquerade of virility beside her.

The connection was suddenly made clear to Kakashi.

"Hey, you!" the man yelled over the table, pointing to Yamato as he used an extra wooden hand to carry the three glasses back to his friends.

"You're a shinobi, aren't you?"

"Yes," Kakashi heard Yamato say, clearly unaware of the man's prior antics moments before, "Why?"

"C'mere for a second," the man chuckled, waving the shinobi over. The burly man's friends snickered around the table, turning around to observe Kakashi's friend. Kakashi stood straighter. Beside him, Guy did the same, also suddenly aware of the strange situation displaying before them.

A fist flew through the air without warning, and the sound of shattering glass filled the bar. Three glasses of sake spilled around their feet as Yamato's hand gripped the man's fist in front of his face agilely.

"Aiko, stop!" The woman Kakashi had noted minutes before cursed at her husband, her eyes wild with embarrassment and anger. "What is wrong with you?"

Yamato pushed back with one hand as Kakashi and Guy carefully made their way across the street to assist if needed. The man stumbled back, shaking his head in disgust.

"You men are useless," he spat at Yamato. Kakashi and Guy stood at Yamato's shoulder. "All you stupid fucks do is go out and use your little magic to bring war to our village. Just because people aren't inherently born with your stupid-"

"That's enough," Kakashi commanded suddenly, taking a step forward. His other lid slid open, the twirl of three tomoe in his glowing eye a jarring sight to the group of men. Aiko scoffed, brushing off the scarecrow's display of authority before sitting back down.

Kakashi turned, impervious to the man's words. As Guy opened his mouth beside him, Yamato quickly directed him away.

Making his way back through the crowd, Kakashi glanced over at the woman beside him, her expression a blend of humiliation and gratitude.

Clutching your drink, you stared at the silver-haired shinobi in front of you as he passed. The glow of his red eye eerie as he slowly closed his lid again. Did he know?

******

2 Months Later

The humidity in the air was stifling. The typical steady flow of children darting about in the streets seemed to have been reduced to merely a trickle of one or two Genin desperately trying to cool themselves with the gardening hose outside the Yamanaka Flower Shop.

The wait between missions was always a relatively appeasing time for the jounin leader. Although today, as he patrolled the streets with a book in his hand, he longed for a mission to a place with a cooler temperature than the sweltering climate he walked the streets in now. Drips of sweat cascaded down his spine, dampening his undershirt all the way to his vest.

"Oh!" was all Kakashi heard as he felt the weight of someone walk into him. The pages of his book flew through the air, minging with a bag of groceries that fell to the ground.

"I'm sorry!" he heard as he quickly assessed the situation. A messy lump of [y/h/c] knelt before him, picking up the groceries that had been scattered about the street.

"No need to be sorry," he told the woman quickly, kneeling beside her.

"I should have been looking where I was going," clearly flustered by the situation, she continued to grab her groceries and place them back in the bag.

"It's okay," he chuckled, glancing up at her. His chest tightened for a moment as he viewed the woman he had seen in the bar a few months prior. Her beauty remained, but the apparent cast of malaise had overtaken her. He blinked, taken aback by the situation that had suddenly unfolded before him.

"Are you okay?" He asked, lifting an arm to her shoulder, "did you hurt yourself?"

She evaded his touch, pulling away with her bag of groceries. He withdrew his gesture as she stood, clutching the bag to her chest. Looking down, he observed the wedding band still on her thinning finger. She looked ill, he thought. Or, at the very least, quite exhausted. Beneath his mask, his lips curved into a frown.

"I'm fine. I must be going," she told him quickly, brushing by him. It was now evident to the jounin how this large bag of groceries had obscured this woman's view enough to run into him in the first place.

"Let me at least help you carry your bag," Kakashi offered, taking a step towards her.

"No!" she told him quickly, pulling the paper bag away from his grasp. "I'm fine, thank you."

As she turned the arm grasping the bag away from him, his single eye glanced down at a deep-set bruise on her upper arm. The clear markings of four fingers having once gripped the skin caused his stomach to churn uncomfortably. He opened his mouth, attempting to frame a sentence of carefully composed words to her, but only a pause came from his lips.

Without another word, the woman turned from him and quickly began heading over the bridge to the other side of town. Her gait struck him as rather peculiar, almost as though she were trying to make up the time she had lost moments before. Looking down, he grabbed his book from the dusty street and shoved it in his pocket, uneasy from the interaction.

****

3 Months Later

Fall had arrived before you had even noticed the conclusion of the warmer days of the year. The lustrous canopies of trees that cocooned the village had shifted to autumn's mute yet vibrate colors. The crisp air of the night nipped at your cheeks as you walked at the ankles of your husband, keen to keep a distance yet knowledgeable enough not to fall behind.

Another festival had arrived, this one focused on family. The two of you were supposed to be a family, having been married over two years ago. Yet you didn't feel like that was the case. It was almost as though the moment you had said "I do" to Aiko, he had changed. He had wanted a maid, a mother, and a ragdoll in one package.

As the evening had progressed, you were sure he had learned his lesson from the previous spring festival. But once the arrival of his friends had commenced, you knew it would be similar. The gnawing, raw feeling in your stomach caused acid to flow freely into your mouth.

You remembered the last festival, the one where he had made a fool of himself in front of those shinobi men. He had scolded and ridiculed you for not supporting him at that moment. It was considerably evident that your husband was no match for a trained ninja of the Leaf. Yet, his disgust for the protectors of the village only grew more. You suspected it was rooted in jealousy.

Not realizing the extent of his burned complex that night, you had continued to go about the evening, unaware of what was to come. Once you had arrived home, it had been the first time the verbal abuse had turned physical. The memory of his grip flush against the curve of your neck, pinning you to the wall as he spat in your face, was as clear as it had been the night it happened. You could still hear his words, appalled that his wife had not supported him- maybe then he would have won. You could still feel the glass that had shattered and plunged into your skin as he threw you into the coffee table.

You took in a shaky breath, trying to calm your anxiety that rose within you. You prayed it wouldn't be that kind of night. You prayed it wouldn't be the type of evening where you were both his physical punching bag and his sex ragdoll. The apologies he whispered to you after as he held you down to "make love" to you caused your skin to crawl.

The abuse was blatant; there was no denying it. You couldn't say to yourself, "he loves me," because he did not. Yet, you couldn't find the strength or the dignity to leave. The more his words stung, the more you felt you deserved them.

As you traveled through the street, you looked around, watching families partake in the street vendor sweets and games provided to them. Your hand went to your stomach, the emptiness within it a sad reminder that you were still not a mother.

"What are you doing?" Aiko asked abruptly, his voice dripping with contempt and impatience. You turned your head, hurrying back over to him as you hadn't even realized you stopped walking.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

Later in the evening, the wind had picked up, and the festival lanterns waved in the breeze. Once again, the sake was flowing freely. It was setting up to be just as it had been that night in the spring. Your skin itched with anxiety. The wedding band on your finger was looser than before, falling to your knuckle as you sipped your drink nervously.

"I bet you could take him out," you heard Aiko's friend say to him. Your eyes widened, and you looked to the sky, a silent prayer for peace falling from your lips. The obsession with shinobi had only grown worse since the incident. As unbenounced ninja passed them on the street, spit would fly from your husband's mouth to their sandaled feet. Mortified, you would always look away.

But tonight, as you looked over at your husband in the bar, you realized the three men from that evening were behind him. The realization of what your husband and his friends were discussing hit you, and you quickly sucked down your alcohol to ease your distress.

That shinobi that had helped you in the street that one day was there as well—the same one with the dancing red eye that had looked at you at the spring festival.

Was he looking at you? You wondered, catching the gaze of his dark eye from across the room. You looked down at your empty drink, feeling a blush creep up your neck that didn't seem like it was from the sake.

He was handsome, you thought to yourself. You remembered the day you had bumped into him in the street, the way he had chucked at the way you apologized so profusely. When he had walked by you with that eye that night in the spring, it had felt like a real shock of electricity ran through your body.

A clamor of chairs brought you out of your daydream as you quickly looked up, startled by the sudden noise.

"Aiko!" you yelled, seeing your husband up against a wall with the forearm under his neck that belonged to the same shinobi he had tried to fight in the spring. This couldn't be happening, you thought.

The shinobi with a terribly styled bowl cut pulled your husband off of the young man, restraining him.

"What is your problem?" the brown-haired man shouted to Aiko, pushing him as the other held him in a headlock.

"Guy, Tenzo!" the silver-haired man stood between them, pulling the men apart.

A glob of spit flew through the air, hitting the man named Tenzo in the cheek. He gritted his teeth, angered as your husband looked at him in satisfaction.

"Fuck you," Aiko said, "and fuck your stupid job."

"Tenzo!" Kakashi forcefully shoved his comrade back as he lunged towards the man. "Enough! Guy, let's go!"

Embarrassment flooded you like no other. The overwhelming realization of what had just unfolded before you caused acid to erupt in your stomach. You put your glass down, running out of the bar and into the street. You didn't care if your husband couldn't find you - you didn't care about it at all. You were mortified, mortified to be around him, associated with him, to be married to him.

You pushed through the crowd, finding a dark alleyway at the end of the street where you could find solitude and rest for a moment. Tears streamed from your face as you slid your back down the side of a building. You held your face in your hands, unable to control the sob that erupted from your chest. You stayed there, clutching your knees to your chest as time ticked by.

You were angry with yourself. You were disgusted for having been stupid enough to get yourself in a situation with such a dreadful and disorderly man. This was your fault, you thought. Your responsibility for not seeing the signs, for not realizing who he was -

"Get up," you heard, interrupting your thoughts. Your body froze, unable to register the gravity of what was about to happen. You looked up, seeing the outline of your husband against the backlight of the street behind him.

"Please, Aiko, I'm just-"

"Get up!"

You stood to your feet, your knees shaking uncontrollably beneath you. There was nothing you could do now. You had to deal with whatever was going to be delt to you. The rational side of your brain knew it wasn't your fault he had made a fool of himself, yet his tainted reputation and burned-out dignity only enraged him more- and somehow, you felt responsible. You were his punching bag - his relief.

"Why did you leave?" he demanded, taking a step forward.

"I was feeling ill," you told him, standing your ground as you lifted your chin.

"You think you can leave?" he asked, his hot breath on your face. The stale smell of alcohol on his breath tickled your nose, causing nausea to churn in your stomach more.

"You think you're better than me? Do you think this is all a game? That these men are better than me?"

"I never-" the sudden grip of his hand on your jaw caught your tongue between your teeth, the taste of metal in your mouth quickly spreading.

"You disgust me," he seethed, the sweaty skin of his nose touching yours. Without hesitation, he threw your body to the side of the alley, slamming your head between the trashcans.

"Go ahead, get up," he urged you mockingly as his foot slammed into your stomach.

"Get up!" he yelled, watching you curl your body in pain on the concrete.

Aiko curled his hand into a fist, raising it above him as he leaned down. You braced your body for impact, knowing full well what was about to happen. Anger at yourself overwhelmed you.

The sound of trashcans being pushed to the side abruptly filled the air of the small alleyway. You felt one hit the top of your head, and you moved quickly, sitting up with wide eyes. Your husband's arm was twisted behind him, and his face pushed into the brick building behind you. Blood seeped from a cut on his forehead.

"You can't hit a real man, so you think you can hit a woman? You feel like a man now? Huh?"

The comprehension of what was happening hit you as you scrambled back from the scene. The silver-haired ninja with the red eye slammed your husband harder against the wall, using the firm grip on Aiko's wrist to move him as though he weighed nothing.

"Get off of me!" Aiko cried furiously, forcefully trying to free himself from the man's grip. You looked down, seeing the shinobi's forearm flex as he gripped your husband's wrist tighter.

"Break your arm," the shinobi urged mockingly, "that's the only way you'll get out of this."

Your husband thrust himself backward, wildly trying to free himself. Your eyes widened as you watched in one swift motion the shinobi pull Aiko to the ground, a fist landing firmly on his jawline. You closed your eyes, hearing the sounds of knuckles to flesh penetrate your mind. A mixture of anxiety and relief overwhelmed your senses.

When the noises had settled, you looked up, watching the shinobi's chest heave in and out as he caught his breath—blood coating his knuckles. Your hand went to your mouth, shaking. He turned to look at you, his red eye open and glowing in the darkness. You scrambled to your feet.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said quickly, his expression turning from blind rage to concern. "Are you okay? You're bleeding."

You reached up, touching the trickle of blood that streamed down from your hairline as the adrenaline from the situation began to die in your system. You felt dizzy, whether from the situation or the injury, you weren't sure. But when you looked back up, the man's spinning red eye was closed again, and he stared at you with worry.

You looked to your beaten husband, his face puffy and red as he slumped against the wall, unconscious.

"Is-Is-" you tried, words failing you as your body shook uncontrollably.

"He's not dead," the shinobi told you quickly, "just unconscious. I just - I saw what he did to you and - he's the lowest scum on this earth."

His words fell silent as his chest still rose and fell with heavy breaths. You looked up at him, your eyes locking with his. The adrenaline and anxiety that had been building up in you peaked as your knees gave way below you. Your body fell to the ground as you let out a loud sob, one that had been accumulating within you for months. The overwhelming, unrelenting sense of fear that consumed you day in and day out had diminished, if only for a moment, right now.

"Hey," he called quickly, kneeling before you. His voice was calm. You felt his hand on your shoulder, gentle and assuring as you cried. "Hey, it's okay."

"This is my life," you felt the words tumble from your mouth, "this is how I live, day in and day out. These bruises are normal; this fear is normal."

His silver eyebrows turned up in grief as waves of emotions overtook your body. After a moment, you felt an arm wrap around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest. This stranger, having saved you and comforted you in a dark alley in the middle of a festival. This stranger, who knew nothing of you, yet held you close to his beating chest as you clutched his kimono. You felt his hand on the back of your head, his skin sticky with your husband's blood.

"It's okay," you heard him say to you, his chin atop of your head, "It's okay. I'm not going to let him hurt you again. I promise."

*****

Spring had come again. The blossoming sakura leaves a staple as the annual festival celebrating love commenced in the streets once again. You walked by yourself through the crowd, the newfound strange sense of independence feeling like a breath of fresh air to your lungs. You looked around, observing the same throng of teenagers pass by, another year older.

You stopped, letting the dog at your side sniff a street pole. You smiled, leaning down to pet your brute of a hound. He looked up at you, wagging his tail at the affection you provided.

"Good boy, Megumi," you smiled, flipping his ears warmly. Megumi had been given to you by that ninja named Kakashi after you had returned from the hospital for the severe concussion you had received that night. You were unsure where he had gotten the pup from, but the dogs small, doting eyes staring back at you won you over instantly.

"He'll serve as a good sense of protection," Kakashi had told you, "and if you need any help training him, I'd be happy to help."

That had been the last time you had seen the man who had saved you. Although often, you were sure you had seen him pass by you in the streets, only to realize it was someone else. You wondered how he was doing.

Your husband had been promptly thrown into prison, collected on domestic abuse charges that were not tolerated within the village whatsoever. You slipped your bare ring finger through one of the loops of Megumi's chain. The divorce had been finalized last month.

"[y/n]," someone had called. You turned, seeing your friend, [y/f's/n] wave happily to you. You smiled as she handed you a cup of warmly brewed tea.

"How are you?" She asked brightly, "it's so nice to see you out. And how is little Megumi?"

She bent down to pet the dog's ample head—another tail wag.

"I'm good," you smiled. Your smile was genuine, your heart light. "Thank you. How are you?"

"Happy to see my friend!" the woman smiled, hugging your shoulders from the side. You beamed, laughing with your friend for what felt like the first time in years. Just as you turned your head, tittering off a laugh, your eye caught sight of a turf of silver hair in the sunlight. Your heart jumped in your chest, and you blinked.

"What is it?" your friend asked, her face falling.

"Nothing, it's just -" you tried but couldn't form the words. It had been seven months since you had seen Kakashi. The angle of the lantern's light catching his sharp features as he conversed with his two friends. Beside you, your friend traced your gaze to the man a few meters away.

"Is that-?" she trailed off, watching your face flush as your fingers tapped nervously against the cup of tea in your hand.

"You're blushing!" she pointed out, a playful finger pointed at your nose.

"I'm not," you waved a hand, "I'm just surprised to see him."

"Why don't you go talk to him?"

"Oh no, I couldn't," you shook your head, fidgeting with Megumi's leash.

"But he saved you! You should at least see how he's doing."

"He was just doing his job, [y/f's/n]," you sighed, rolling your eyes at your friend.

"No, it doesn't matter. You should go talk to him," she urged, pushing you towards him.

"[Y/f's/n]!" she pushed you through the crowd, children dispersing as your dog sniffed his way over to Kakashi's leg.

"Hey!" Kakashi chucked to the dog, a smile forming under his mask. His eyes traveled up the dog's chain to you as your friend's hands left your shoulders, disappearing into the crowd.

"[y/n]," Kakashi smiled in surprise, a hint of nervousness in his voice as he looked at you. "I didn't-"

"How are you?" you asked suddenly, feeling your face flush. Kakashi blinked his single eye, tracing your face with his gaze as if to memorize it. You were sure you looked healthier than the last time he had seen you.

"I'm good," he said finally, not realizing his friends disappearing behind him with snickering looks over their shoulder. "How are you?"

"Better," you smiled softly, holding Megumi's leash tightly as the dog sniffed at his feet. Kakashi leaned down to pet the dog, smiling as he patted the side of his chest.

"And I see Megumi is doing good too," he cooed at the hound.

"He is," you nodded, "thank you again."

"Not a problem," he leaned back up, catching your eye again. You looked away, your chest flushing. A few awkward beats passed between you as you watched a couple pass by, their hands intertwined as they strolled down the street.

"Would you- like to grab something to eat?" You heard him ask, his voice dripping with nervousness.

You turned back suddenly, your eyes snapping back to his. He smiled softly, lifting his eyebrows.

"They have some good food stands here this time of year," he commented, "but if you'd rather not or if you're with your frien-"

"Of course," you said quickly, "I would love to."

His eyes perked up at your acceptance, turning into two small crescent moons. He turned, waiting for you to follow. Your instinct told you to stay a foot behind him, but when he waited for you to step beside you, you realized he wanted you next to him.

"So, are you wishing for anything?" he trailed off as the two of you began walking, a smile on your face.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #Kakashi imagines #Kakashi Hatake #kakashi hatake imagines #kakashi fanfiction #trigger warning #domestic violence awareness

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boldlyanxious · 3 years

Text

Life of bee Party

Jasonette July prompt 13: bee

Jasonette July

All fic masterlist

Marinette already could tell this would be a bad idea. She wasn’t really in the mood for a party at all and definitely not a costume party. But she was dragged along without consideration to her protests. Her friends told her she just needed to have a good time. As if that would make everything in her life magically better. Things were not going well for her and she just wanted to mope about it. She ended up working in the mail room at the lowest level of a billion dollar corporation instead of doing anything else she had ever dreamed of.

Her friends worked there with her but they were mostly secretaries on the various floors. None of them were very high up either but they all shared a love of nice clothes. Jill worked at the coffee shop in the building so they all interacted a lot during the day. Coffee breaks were all taken together and sometimes Marinette would deliver coffees on her mail runs. It worked out pretty well.

They had gone to the party as a group. It was something in between the wild college parties she had seen and the grown up parties she had always expected she would be attending by this age. There was food and someone mixing drinks to go along with the selection of beers rather than only a keg and counters filled with forgotten red cups. Not even everyone at the party was dressed up making Marinette feel silly in her bee costume that was made from not enough cheap fabric. The other girls already had several costumes to choose from but Connie was the same size as her and offered her bee costume.

Not actually an offer. They insisted she come and insisted that she dress up also. They stood outside the door while she had put on the costume and Sylvie had hidden her clothes so she had to wear it. Usually she would not be so grumpy about things but she had tried again to apply at a fashion school. She just got her rejection in the mail today. She didn’t even tell anyone she had applied for which she was grateful. She didn’t want to have to see the pity in their eyes or hear how it would be okay because she was up for a promotion soon. She downed the rest of her drink and turned to find another. She had lost all of her friends to the party and she chose to mope in the kitchen rather than meeting more drunk people.

“Hey Honey,” a voice said near her.

She glanced over at the man and rolled her eyes. He was picking on her costume when he had only bothered to put on a mask around his eyes. It was somehow both worse than not dressing up and worse than picking a costume to wear. He knew to dress up but he hadn’t even made an attempt. He just put on a cheap mask. She smiled as she took the drink from the bartender and walked away from him. He picked up a new beer and followed her.

“Would you bee interested in a dance?” he asked.

“No thank you,” Marinette said simply.

He didn’t follow this time so she found a place to sit away from the others and keep an eye out for her friends. She really wished she had chosen to meet them here. She could have left by now. But she left her purse at Connie’s and planned to take a cab with Sylvie because they lived in the same complex. She pulled out her phone and played a game for a while. Connie stopped by after a bit and made her dance. She wasn’t into it enough so they took shots and tried again. Marinette danced until she was breathing hard and it was actually helping her mood. The others had joined them and they were causing a bit of a scene but none of them cared. They just wanted to have a good time.

Marinette went back to the kitchen to get them all some waters and she ran into the same man on her way back. He grinned when he saw her headed his way. She wished she could get there without passing the annoying man. He even approached her and took the waters from her leaving her with only the one for her. He motioned for her to lead the way. Her friends did not seem put out to see her return with another. Actually they all seemed to know him from work. Sylvie even turned to wink at her behind his back and give her a thumbs up. He looked over at Sylvie and then smirked as if he knew exactly what happened. Jill slyly asked him if he was planning to ask anyone to dance.

“I did ask someone to dance but she wasn’t interested. I’ve seen her around the office before but I don’t think she has even noticed me even though I find her beewitching.”

Her friends all looked at her in shock, but she pretended not to notice. She sipped her drink and watched the crowd. They went through the process of introductions and he talked to her friends for a few minutes while they all tried to flirt with him. Marinette wasn’t sure if they were actually flirting with him or trying to convince her she wanted to flirt with him but she was not in the mood right now. He excused himself after a few minutes without bothering Marinette any further.

She didn’t see him for a couple hours after that. Many of the people had left the party or found places to chill and sober up before they went home. She went back to the kitchen. She was long over the desire for drinking. She was hungry and the offered foods were long gone. She poked through the cupboards and didn't find much but the fridge had eggs and cheese.

She didn't know whose house it was but she hadn't brought and money so she hoped they wouldn't mind her taking some eggs to keep her stomach settled. She looked around for a good pan and spatula. She mixed the eggs and heated butter in the pan before adding the egg. Carefully she cooked the egg continually moving the sides in to let the egg run down to the hot pan. When it was all cooked on the bottom she loosened it from the sides of the pan before swirling it around and flicking her wrist to make the whole thing flip at once.

"Very nicely done," said Jason.

She jumped in surprise and turned to him. He turned away from her flushed face and opened a cabinet while she added cheese and turned off the burner.

"Did you guess the right cupboard on the first try or have you been here before?"

"I live here. So I already knew."

He handed her a plate and she tipped the omelet out of the pan.

"Oh, I may have stolen your food a bit."

"I'm not worried about a couple eggs. I was trying to think of a way to convince you to make me one without seeming helpless. Omelets are my downfall."

"It takes some practice. My Nonna taught me. I could make another but it's also probably more than I need. Would you want half?"

"That works great." He paused for a moment while the food was divided before adding. "You aren't having a good time."

"It's not because of the party. I was already feeling down and I feel silly in this outfit."

"I probably have some clothes you could wear and I would do anything I could think of to cheer you up."

"How do you know me from work if I don't see you? I thought I knew everyone."

"It's my job to see everything. You are just the most fun to notice."

Marinette wasn't sure how to respond to that. But he moved along in the conversation. He picked up their empty plates and had her follow him.

"I'm pretty sure I've got a couple things that were left here by my brother's girlfriend. Should be close enough to fit you."

"I would really like that. I think our driver might be out for the night. She fell asleep."

Jason had her follow him and he checked a couple spots until he comes up with clothes he thought would fit her. Marinette went off to change but he showed up again after. He offered her a water and they sat on an unoccupied couch.

"Are you still feeling a buzz?" Jason asked.

"You think you're funny."

Marinette lifted her foot nudged his leg but she lifted her cup to hide her smile.

"You seem in a better mood. I hope that means good things for me."

"I'm not sure. You seem awfully fond of puns. Maybe you just like to hear me groan."

"I would never use a pun again just to see your smile."

Marinette leaned close to him.

"What would you do for a kiss?"

"Anything."

He leaned down towards her until their lips met.

Taglist

#jasonette july 2021 #maribat #jasonette #meet cute #boldlyanxious

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yukidragon · 3 years

Text

Our Life Snippet - Clingy

As I mentioned in my asks today where I was gushing about Our Life: Beginnings & Always by @gb-patch, it’s about time for another clip of my fanfic novelization of this lovely game!

It’s been a while since I showed a clip of Step 3, so here is a slice from Errands! Thank you to @gb-patch and everyone else who enjoy seeing me gush and write about Cove and Jamie! You all make me so happy I cannot even!

Oh, and since this is Step 3 content, spoiler warning for those who haven’t played this far in the game yet.

...

Liz folded her arms over her chest and let out an amused chuckle. “We couldn’t have picked a more perfect trip. It’s been too long since we’ve had a true family outing.” She then gave a pointed look to her little sister and the baby boyfriend for emphasis.

The three parents laughed approvingly at the familiar joke. Jamie rolled her eyes at their mirth and the teasing note to her older sister’s tone even as she fought to keep from smiling herself. Her favorite next door neighbors had joined the Leimomis on this outing, which was what made it a ‘true family outing’ as Liz put it.

Cove offered Jamie a sympathetic smile when their eyes met. Some things never changed and some jokes never died, especially when it came to teasing them about their relationship. It was something they had both long since accepted. The fact that they had been holding hands since they left the cars behind naturally didn’t help lessen such teasing, but neither of them felt inclined to let go of each other.

Jamie finally allowed herself to smile as she squeezed his hand a little, her smile only widening when Cove returned the gesture. Teasing aside, she was bubbling with anticipation to explore the market and see what sort of hidden gems they might uncover. Sure, that meant wading through a sea of people to find them, but she wasn’t alone, so she didn’t pay them any mind.

The idea of spending a day traversing through such a dense crowd of strangers was not something Cove looked forward to, but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with them by himself. He could tune them out as long as he had Jamie by his side. Seeing her so animated with excitement as she looked around raised his spirits, and when she smiled at him, it was like the world around them no longer mattered anymore.

Cliff turned to the group as he clapped his hands together, the sound catching everyone’s attention. “Well, I’m ready to get started. I’ve got plenty of dishes in mind I could use ingredients for.”

It was easy to see that everyone held the same sentiment. Noelani and Pamla were especially excited as they shared a conspiratorial smile with one another.

“Yes, that’s a very good idea, Cliff,” Noelani said cheerfully as she turned back to the others. “This place is much larger than it seems. It’s difficult to visit each part in a single day.”

Such a challenge did nothing to diminish Cliff’s enthusiasm. “I’m sure we can make a decent dent together at least.”

“Actually…,” Noelani said as she let her gaze wander to the rest of the group. “Since there are so many of us this time, we could take different sides of the market.”

For a second, Jamie swore she saw a hint of mischief in Pamela’s eyes before her mom turned away to look at the stalls.

“Divide and conquer, eh?” Pamela said. “That sounds brilliant.”

The suggestion took the rest of the group by surprise. No one else had considered splitting up to be an option.

Pamela flashed the group a dazzling smile to banish any misgivings there were towards the idea. “Though, it’s a little unfair that there are four Leimomi family members and only two Holdens here, so I’ll go with you boys to even out the odds.”

“That’s fine with me,” Noelani said cheerfully.

Despite the upbeat attitude and smiles Noelani and Pamela showed the group, it was clear that they were the only ones excited for the idea. Liz pursed her lips in a frown, her brow furrowing, but she kept her mouth shut. By contrast, Jamie’s mouth hung open in a small ‘o’ of surprise. Cliff awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and his gaze wandered aimlessly, as he found himself at a loss for where to look or what to say. Neither was a problem his son had.

Cove tightened his hold on Jamie’s hand reflexively, drawing her attention to his frowning face. The grip wasn’t anywhere near painful, but it made his thoughts on them being separated crystal clear even before he spoke up. “I don’t like that idea.”

Noelani was nonplussed by the resistance, smiling at Cove despite his obvious disapproval. “Don’t worry, we’ll be apart for only a few hours, and then we’ll have something to talk about at the end of it.”

Cove wasn’t especially convinced. He had never been comfortable with plans being changed without notice, especially when he wasn’t even consulted about the change. Unfortunately, he could already tell that this was a battle that he wasn’t going to win. He could be stubborn with his own parents or peers, but when it came to the Leimomi matrons, he couldn’t dig in his heels with only the argument that he didn’t want to be separated from Jamie. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he let out a sigh. Reluctantly, he nodded and released his girlfriend’s hand.

Liz let out a thoughtful hum and shrugged off her confusion. “Alright,” she said, her frown melting away into an easy smile. “I don’t get the point, but I also don’t mind spending the first part of the trip with Jamie and Ma.

Delighted, Noelani clapped her hands together in a brief show of cheer. “Wonderful. Are the teams ready to go?”

Like her sister, Jamie didn’t understand why their moms thought splitting up was a good idea. The entire point of both of their families going to the farmers’ market together was to enjoy each other’s company, wasn’t it? Splitting the group in half felt like splitting the fun in half too.

Actually, it would be even less than that if they expected Jamie and Cove to spend the day apart when they could be together.

If this was going to happen regardless of any of their opinions on the matter, Jamie knew that she had to at least suggest a compromise. “Can I be the one who goes with the Holdens instead?”

Jamie clasped her hands together as she looked between her moms hopefully. They would understand why she wanted to spend the day with Cove, right? He just got back from Nevada, and after he had been gone a long time to boot. It felt almost cruel to spend a day apart from one another when they didn’t have to.

Cove immediately perked up at the suggestion, his defeated frown turning into a hopeful smile of his own.

Unfortunately, the expressions Noelani and Pamela wore were not promising. Noelani pouted at their youngest daughter while Pamela merely shook her head with a grin.

“Sorry,” Pamela said. “No can do this time, kiddo.”

Jamie saw not even a flicker of reluctance between her parents, and the disappointment on Noelani’s face, however played up to keep the mood light, made her feel a twinge of guilt for suggesting she leave her ma’s group. Her shoulders sagged in surrender as a quiet sigh escaped her. “We won’t be split up too long, right?” she asked weakly.

A cheerful smile returned to Noelani’s face as she moved to her youngest’s side and wrapped an arm around Jamie in a little side hug. Her comforting gesture was rewarded with a lopsided smile from her daughter. “Yes, thank you, Jamie.”

With things finally settled, Pamela walked over towards Cove and Cliff, grinning in spite of the confused looks they still sent their way. “Come on, boys, we’re heading out.”

“Sure,” Cliff said.

“Okay,” Cove said with far less enthusiasm than Pamela. This trip had suddenly become a lot more of a chore than it started off as.

His gaze then turned to Jamie, and he offered her a soft smile when her eyes met his. He was drawn towards his girlfriend, stopping just short in front of her. The smile he wore wavered as he hesitated to leave. “Bye,” he said quietly, unable to hide the note of regret from his voice.

Jamie was no more thrilled to separate than Cove was, but she managed to offer him a small smile in return anyway. “Bye.”

Cove took his girlfriend’s hand in his once more and gave it a gentle squeeze, which Jamie returned. Her smile grew just a little stronger at his attempt to reassure her, which raised his spirits as well. He then dipped his face towards her for a parting kiss, his cheeks warming as his eyes drifted closed.

Jamie started to close her eyes as well in anticipation of the kiss, only to notice Cove suddenly jerk to a halt stiffly a few inches away from her.

The reason why became immediately clear as Cove twisted his head around to stare back at Pamela with wide eyes. She had seized the hem of his shirt and physically held him back. She gave another firm tug, urging him upright before letting go.

“No, no, no,” Pamela chided with a wide grin on her face as she wagged a finger at Cove. “Time’s a wastin’, Cove, and I’ve known you long enough to be aware that you’re one to linger. If I don’t stop you now, you’ll only drag your feet on parting ways more.” Her smile then turned mischievous as she shifted her gaze from him to Jamie and back again. “The two of you can snuggle and make out as much as you want later. We have important shopping to do now.”

Jamie felt her face grow hot from being called out so publicly by her mom. Cove outright gasped at Pamela, completely taken aback by what felt like a truly obscene thing for her to say.

Once Cove overcame the initial shock, he forced himself to ignore how fiercely his cheeks burned as he made an unimpressed show of rolling his eyes. “You don’t need to literally pull me away from Jamie. I’m not that clingy.”

Pamela made no effort to hide her snickering as she shook her head wryly.

The reaction wasn’t one Cove expected. He raised his eyebrows at her before he looked over at Noelani. However, the other Mrs. Leimomi refused to look him in the eye as she whistled in a supposedly ‘innocent’ manner.

Cove noticed the look Liz sent his way, particularly the sly smirk she wore that stretched from ear to ear. He whipped his head around towards his dad next. Cliff met his gaze, but could only offer a lopsided smile and an apologetic shrug.

It was only then when it dawned on Cove - everyone really thought he was that needy.

Finally, Cove dared turn to face Jamie, his eyes wide and pleading with the desperate hope that at least she didn’t agree as well.

To his relief, the look Jamie gave him was a sympathetic one. She then leveled a stern gaze to the rest of the group, folding her arms across her chest. “Cove is totally capable of being independent when he wants to be,” she said in a very matter of fact tone.

After all, Cove had recently traveled to Nevada by himself for weeks. Willingly separating from her for that long was the exact opposite of clingy. In fact, that was all the more reason for them to enjoy each other’s company as much as possible now. There was no reason for them to poke fun at her boyfriend for wanting to show her affection. How they expressed their feelings for one another was no one else’s business but theirs.

Unfortunately, it seemed that no one else saw it that way, and her attempt at chastising them for their teasing was met with a few snickers from her family. Unlike them, Jamie was not amused.

Cove, on the other hand, beamed at having his girlfriend’s support. Without thinking, he took a step towards Jamie, feeling drawn to her once more. Also, once more, Pamela snatched the back of his shirt, freezing him in his tracks.

Pamela attempted to suppress the urge to laugh, but a few chuckles escaped her anyway. “Actions speak louder than words.”

Caught newly embarrassed all over again, Cove struggled to come up with something to say in his defense. His mouth twisted and his cheeks reddened as he looked sideways at their families, who were having way too much amusement at his expense. “Yeah, well…” After a few moments of struggling, he finally had to look away with a frustrated huff. “So what?”

That admission had their parents and Liz bursting into laughter, much to Cove’s mortification.

Jamie felt her irritation grow when everyone started laughing at Cove. “Yeah, so what?” she said in a challenging tone. Before anyone could make what she was certain would be another teasing retort, she closed the distance between herself and her boyfriend. She cupped his cheek to turn his face back towards her and stole a kiss from his lips before her mom could stop them a third time.

Cove barely had a moment to register the kiss before it ended. It was so brief that he hadn’t had the chance to really enjoy it, much to his regret. He could only stare wide-eyed at Jamie as she moved back from him, though involuntarily, as this time it was Noelani pulling her back by the shirt.

“I believe you were saying something about being independent?” Noelani said, though her chiding didn’t come across as particularly authoritative since she was chuckling as she said it.

Jamie was unrepentant for her act of defiance, her grin wide and proud, though she did step back at her ma’s prompting, if only to spare her shirt from further punishment. “Cove is, but I didn’t say anything about myself,” she said wryly. That comment along with her little display set off another round of laughter from the group, but it was worth it.

Pamela shook her head with a wide grin. “I don’t know about that, but I think we both better keep the kids on a short leash if we want a chance of getting any shopping done before nightfall, ‘Lani.” She gave a little tug on Cove’s shirt for emphasis, much to his chagrin.

“I think you’re right,” Noelani giggled as she kept her grip on Jamie’s shirt firm.

Cove didn’t have any further defense for himself or Jamie, not with the way everyone was having way too much fun at their expense. Grimacing, he strode several feet from the group, his face red all the way to his ears. He wanted to move on from this teasing, even if it meant physically moving on and away from her. At least Pamela let him go despite her idle threat to keep him on a leash.

Seeing Cove start to leave washed the taste of victory from Jamie’s mouth, but she just had to accept it. “I’ll see you soon,” she called after him. When he glanced back at her, she smiled softly at him and gave him a little wave.

Despite how Cove still burned with embarrassment, the reminder that he had Jamie’s support helped him relax a bit. He nodded at her ever so slightly as he pulled his mouth into a bent smile.

“See you in a few hours!” Pamela said as she gave her wife and daughters a cheery wave.

“Take care of yourselves,” Cliff said with a nod of his head.

With that, the groups were divided. Pamela picked a direction and set a course for destinations unknown, leading the Holden men who followed not far behind her.

Noelani gave the departing group a grin and waved enthusiastically with her whole arm. By contrast, Liz gave a much more dainty wave of her own.

Jamie continued to wave goodbye as she watched Cove disappear with his dad and her mom into the dense crowd. Because of his height, she could still spot glimpses of his pale green hair for a little while, but all too quickly even that small sign of him was lost from view.

As her arm fell limply to her side, Jamie tried to banish all the negative feelings she had towards this turn of events. Sure, this wasn’t what she wanted, but that didn’t mean the trip couldn’t still be fun. Sure, it sucked that she wasn’t going to explore the market with her boyfriend, and that was the thing she was looking most forward to and now, poof, that wasn’t happening… but she would see him in a few hours. It was silly to feel sad or let down that they wouldn’t all be traveling together.

It wasn’t as though she was actually clingy like she joked.

#My Writing #Our Life Beginnings & Always #ourlifeba #Our Life #Cove Holden #Jamie Last #Jamie Leimomi #Elizabeth Last #Pamela Last #Noelani Last #Cliff Holden

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lilliagradiewrites · 3 years

Text

wish you liked girls (kiara carrera)

Summary: You’ve been best friends with kiara for years, but lately you’ve noticed some changes in the way you feel towards her. When you hear the song she wrote about you, all is revealed.

WC: 4.5k

WARNINGS: homophobic, use of the f slur, cursing, nothing else really, just lots of angst and a lil fluff.

*this is based off of the song ‘wish you liked girls’ by Abbey Glover. I changed the lyrics around a little to fit the story better, but all credits to her nonetheless!!

A/N: happy new years my loves! this one shot is kind of my new years gift to all of you. I haven't been very active in the past few days, so I’m sorry about that. i tried to upload this on christmas, but tumblr was rude and didn’t let me, so here we are instead! wishing you all the greatest 2021, and I hope you all enjoy!

LET’S DO IT!!

~~~~~

You didn’t know exactly how you felt towards Kiara in the beginning. You feelings for her were indecipherable; more than friends… but also just friends?

The past few months had been a wild ride for you. Constantly, you were questioning your sexuality, and frankly everything you’d ever known.

It got harder as the days went on, and with every beautiful girl that showed up in your Instagram feed or your tiktok for you page.

And then, of course, there was Kiara.

Perfect, beautiful, unattainable Kiara.

She was your best friend, and you usually viewed your hangouts as a super comforting and safe space. Now, however, your hangouts were simply a cause for more stress.

Kiara was so… wonderful. After knowing her for many years, you could confidently say that the girl had no flaws.

Kie’s perfection made everything so much harder for you. Your feelings toward your friend were incredibly confusing.

Did you want to be her, or be with her?

The biggest issue was not your feelings for Kiara, but rather a completely separate problem.

Your boyfriend.

You were nearing a year with Hunter, the boy you found yourself lucky to call your own.

Hunter was an amazing guy, and everything a teenage girl could ask for in a boyfriend. He was considerate and sweet, and always knew the right thing to say to you. He never pressured you into intimacy, knowing that you weren’t comfortable or ready just yet.

You loved Hunter, you knew you did.

Yet, you found yourself feeling that same way towards Kiara.

This was the main issue causing the battle in your head. Was your love for Kiara just platonic? Or maybe you loved Hunter as a friend, Kiara was the one you wanted to be with?

None of those options felt right, but the last possible option made you feel confused and slightly guilty….

What if you wanted to be with them both?

All these thoughts rushed through your head as you brushed makeup on your face, preparing for a night with the girl who frequented your thoughts daily.

There was an open mic night at you and Kiara’s favorite indie cafe. Kie, who was unknowingly an amazing singer and songwriter, had played some music for you a while back, leading to a process of you encouraging her to grow as an artist.

For months, Kiara had been running song ideas by you. You could recall countless nights during which you and Kiara would sit on her bed, working together to finish up a song she’d been writing.

Kiara credits all her music to you completely, but you knew she was just being modest. The girl was undeniably talented.

That’s why, when you saw that Retro was having an open mic night, you’d insisted that your best friend go play one of her songs.

You had sat on her bed that night, the flyer you’d collected from the cafe sitting between the two of you.

You grabbed the notebook containing all of the lyrics you’d written together, and pored over the most recent piece.

The song was your best one yet. She’d been inspired by yet another fight between JJ and Rafe.

“What if I write something about the pogues and the kooks being so divided?” She’d suggested that same night. You could tell, judging by the look in her eyes, that a train of ideas was chugging in circles throughout her mind. “The whole thing is so ugly and gross… I just want to turn into something beautiful, you know?”

Without a second thought, you’d picked up a pencil and the song book you’d grown to be familiar with, and the two of you got down to work.

Two sleepless nights and countless cups of coffee later, the two of you had completed the piece. It was undoubtedly the best song you’d ever written. It captured the unnecessary feeling of hatred coming from the opposite groups of the island perfectly, adding a touch of soul. The moral of the song was simple: can we just get along?

Kiara had strung the words together beautifully, adding a gorgeous melody and some strums on her guitar. Once the two of you heard the lyrics had worked so hard on turned to music, you knew that there was something special about this piece.

That’s why you insisted so strongly that Kiara sing it at the open mic night.

“I don’t know, Y/N…” Kiara had twiddled her fingers, biting her lip in apprehension. “What if people hate my music? Or what if I fuck it up so bad I become a massive laughingstock. I don’t think I could handle it.”

You smiled, grabbing her hands to still them. “It’s a good thing you won’t have to worry about that, then, because you’re not gonna fuck it up.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Kiara protested, breaking the gaze you’d been holding as you spoke.

“I do!” You grabbed Kiara’s chin, moving her face towards you so that her eyes met yours again. “You are fucking amazing, Kiara Carrera. Do not doubt yourself. You are so talented, Kie, I don’t think you even realize how incredible you are. I am going to that cafe tomorrow and signing you up for the open mic night whether you like or not.”

This was a threat, but not an honest one. You would never sign her up knowing she was uncomfortable. So, when you let go of your light grip on her chin, you listened intently for a murmur of approval.

After a moment, it finally came.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Yes!” You exclaimed in celebration, throwing your arms around your friend. “I’m so excited, you’re gonna be amazing!

Now, a few days later, you’re sitting at your vanity, preparing for the night you’d be waiting for. Kie was extremely nervous, so you’d taken her out shopping earlier that day to calm her down. She’d bought a new outfit for the open mic night, which looked amazing on her. She promised you that she’d come pick you up so you could go to the performance together, and you’d happily agreed.

You didn’t expect to be at your house an hour early, though.

You weren’t even halfway through your makeup when you heard a knock at your door.

You’d rushed down the stairs, praying you’d get to the door first.

Your parents never liked Kie. They knew she liked girls and guys, and called her a “Hippie whore.”

Your homophobic parents: Yet another reason you couldn’t come to terms with the way you felt towards your best friend.

The odds seemed to be in your favor today, as you reached the door before your parents and swung it open to reveal a highly nervous Kiara.

“Hey!” You smiled. “What are you doing here so early?”

Kiara bit her lip in embarrassment and looked down to her feet.

“I-I got nervous and I got ready way too early. I know I’m not supposed to be here for another 45 minutes, but I’m too freaked out to be alone. Is it okay if I hang out with you while you finish getting ready?” She questions softly, almost embarrassed.

You smile, finding her nerves exceptionally adorable.

“Yes, of course you can. Come in, come in.”

You grab her arm, closing the door behind her and pulling her quickly up the stairs. The last thing you wanted was for Kiara to have to interact with your parents.

Once in your room, you close the door and head back to your vanity, Kiara flopping down on your bed.

As you sat down and continued applying your makeup, you spoke to your friend.

“So, how nervous and excited are you for tonight?”

Kiara smiled lightly, and bit her lip once again. “Very for both.” She confesses with a small chuckle.

“I know you can’t tell someone not to be nervous but I can tell you that you shouldn’t be. You’re incredible, Kie. I can’t wait for everyone to see how talented my best friend is.

You focus hard on your eyeliner, leaning in to your mirror to make sure you get a clean wing.

Once you're done on both sides, you lean back and admire your work. Perfecting your winged liner was something you’d been working on for a while, and it seems that your practice has helped. The wings are sharp and pretty much even. If you don’t look too closely, the wings are seemingly symmetrical. This is good enough for you, you decide, capping the liquid liner and setting it back in your makeup drawer.

Finally done with your makeup, you begin cleaning off your desk. You put your products back in your drawer, and the brushes in the holder you have for them on the corner of your desk.

Standing up, you look at Kie with a smile. “Now help me pick out an outfit so that I look hot supporting you from the audience.”

45 minutes later, the two of you are finally ready to leave. Kie is nervous as ever, but you offer comforting words to try and help calm her down as much as possible. You grab your favorite bag and throw the essentials in it. Your phone, a portable charger (just in case), and a few extra hair ties. Once you were done, you turned to Kie, who was playing with her fingers anxiously. “You ready?” You asked, encouragement laced in your voice. Kiara, still very obviously apprehensive, could do nothing but nod. Taking your bag in one hand and Kiara’s hand in the other, you head out of your room and towards the front door.

The two of you made your way down the stairs, moving quickly to leave so that you didn’t have to interact with either of your awful parents. When you got to the bottom, you rushed for the door, fumbling with the door handle. The house you lived in was old, and all of the metal pieces (such as the door knob) were rusted and hard to use. You did your best trying to twist it open, saying a silent prayer that one of your parents didn’t round the corner and see Kiara with you. She was nervous enough as it is; she didn’t need your parents making her night even worse.

Unfortunately for the both of you, your prayers were seemingly denied as your mother walked into the foyer, arms crossed over her chest.

You had hardly even noticed her presence until she said your name, anger apparent in her voice.

“Y/N. How many times do I have to tell you who you can and cannot bring into our home?”

You grimaced at the sound of her voice, turning slowly, knowing you’ll be met with inescapable doom. In the process of turning, you saw the look on Kie’s face. She looked anxious and heartbroken, not to mention severely guilty. After seeing your best friend’s expression, you knew you weren’t cowering down to your mother.

Your original plan had been to apologize profusely and beg her to let you go with Kie, possibly even lying about where you were headed.

But you knew you had nothing to apologize for, and neither did Kie.

“I don’t see why it matters, Mom.”

Surprise flashed over your mother’s face, shocked by your confidence. Standing up for yourself wasn’t your usual reaction to her scoldings, and she wasn’t prepared for the reply she was given.

“It matters because it’s my house, and because I’m your mother. I told you I did not want people like her over at this house. Now send the girl on her way and come sit down with me. I think we need to talk.”

You had to admit, you were nervous to make your next move. You knew what you were going to do, and it would result in getting your ass shredded when you come back home. But you didn’t care; you had to be there for Kie.

“I can’t right now. Me and Kiara have a place to be, so…” You turned and messed with the doorknob some more, finally getting it to work correctly. “I’ll talk to you when I get home tonight. It shouldn’t be terribly late. But, I might stay over at Kie’s, so, you think you could wait until tomorrow?”

Anger washed quickly over your mother’s face. She uncrossed her arms so that she could clench her fists at her sides, moving towards you menacingly. “Absolutely not, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. You will be staying here, and you will not be staying at her house. I won’t allow it.”

You smirked, a sudden confidence washing over you. “Well, that doesn’t sound very fun. Good thing I didn’t ask for your permission, huh?”

Kie looked shocked by your attitude, and your mother was getting angrier by the second.

“I’m going to need you to fix your attitude, young lady, or there will be severe consequences.”

“I don’t care. I don’t, and I’m not sorry about it. Kie is my best friend, whether you like it or not, and I’m spending the night with her.”

Your mother’s face was almost completely red. “Kie is a fag-”

“No. Don’t you dare finish that sentence. I will not allow you to talk to her that way. Why are you the way that you are?”

“Why are you hanging out with gay people? Do you like girls or something?”

“Why does it matter?” You’re fuming at this point. If she wasn’t your mother, you would’ve hit her by now.

“It matters because homosexuals are abominations. The Lord says so. I thought I’d taught you this by now, but clearly I didn’t press the word of God into you hard enough when you were younger.”

“No, Mom. Terrible people like you are an abomination. We’re leaving.”

And with that, you were gone, wrenching the door open and ushering Kie out of it, ignoring your mother’s shouts as you closed it behind you.

You rushed to Kie’s car, hopping in it as she pulled out of your driveway and sped through your neighborhood.

The two of you were completely silent for a moment. Both of you could barely process what had just happened. The more you thought about the situation, the more it upset you. Who was your mother to decide who you could and couldn’t hang out with? Especially when her reasons for you not hanging out with Kie were so disgusting.

What would your mother say if she knew the thoughts you’d been having?

After a little while, Kiara broke the silence. “Why is your mom like that?” Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke, and you could tell by the tone of her voice that she was fighting tears.

You sighed. Hearing Kiara so upset, especially on a day that was supposed to be fun, broke you. “I wish I knew, Kie. I’m so sorry.”

“I can’t believe she accused you of liking girls just because you hang out with me. She’s so disrespectful for no reason.”

You shook your head. “You say it like it’s a terrible thing she ‘accused’ me of. It’s not a bad thing. She just made it bad because she’s a bitch.”

Kiara nodded, turning her head to gaze out the window. A momentary silence fell over the two of you, but you couldn’t help but feel like something wasn’t right. You glanced over at Kie, whose brows were furrowed. She bit her lip in thought.

Is there something she wanted to say?

“Kie? Are you alright?”

The brunette didn’t say anything. You knew something was up, so you pressed further.

“What’s on your mind, love?”

Kiara shot out her reply quickly, like it was taking all of her courage to say it.

“You didn’t deny it.”

“Deny what?”

“Liking girls.”

You paused briefly, letting the girls words sink in for a second.

“No, I didn’t.”

Kiara turned to you, a million emotions in her dark eyes. They all flashed as you made eye contact, making each feeling hard to identify. “Do you?”

“Like girls?” Your breathing was halted. Was Kiara… feeling the same way towards you as you had been for her?

“I-I don’t know.”

Kie turned towards you. When you looked at her, you could see the tears in her eyes.

You could identify a strong sense of hope in her dark eyes.

“You don’t know?”

Suddenly, you remembered.

Hunter.

Your amazing boyfriend that you loved so much.

“It doesn’t really matter though, I guess. Since I’m with Hunter.”

The words had left your mouth before you could stop them.

Kie took a deep breath, and looked away.

“Right. Hunter.”

A few minutes later, you’d arrived at the cafe. No more words had been spoken, and tension in the car was thick.

Once the car was parked, you finally spoke.

“Are you ready to go?”

Kie nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you climbed out of the car, Kiara going into the back to grab her guitar. Once everything was locked up, the two of you headed inside in silence.

The crowd was bustling with life in the small cafe. On one side, people with songbooks and sheet music sat with their instruments, and on the other side, people sat sipping on cups on coffee.

When you noticed the separation, Kie headed over to the performers side. You gave a light ‘good luck,’ to which Kiara didn’t reply, and then the two of you went separate ways.

Kiara took a seat in the performer section, looking nervously at the people around her. She tried her best to push away the feelings from the conversation in the car earlier, but it was very difficult. For a moment there, she had allowed herself to believe that the feelings she had for you were reciprocated. That look in your eye when you looked at her… something about it made her think you felt the same as she did. Unfortunately, she was wrong.

You just had to bring your Hunter.

Kiara hated Hunter, though she’d never let you know that. She had no real reason to hate him, but she did. She hated him so much, it was almost painful to see his face.

She hated him because he had what Kie wanted more than anything else in the world.

You.

Kie watched you as you moved around on the other side of the cafe. You were standing at the counter, talking to the barista. Though Kie couldn’t hear you over the bustle of the place, she knew exactly what you were saying.

You were ordering your usual: a large vanilla sweet cream cold brew with caramel drizzle. You order has been the same for what feels like forever. You had tried other things, but you always stuck to your favorite.

“I’ve never liked anything as much as this.” You’d said a few weeks earlier, when Kie had teased you for never changing your order.

Kie longed to be over there with you, teasing you about your order. Just talking to you lit up her life. You were everything to her, and she wasn’t even afraid to admit it.

You got your coffee, thanking the barista and dropping some change in the tip jar.

Kie watched as you scanned the room, searching for an empty seat. As you looked around, your eyes met Kiara’s, and you held her gaze for a moment. Though you didn’t know why she was being so cold towards you earlier, you couldn’t help but offer a small smile of encouragement.

To your great relief, she smiled back.

Once you knew she was alright, you broke her gaze and continued searching for a seat. You wanted to sit near the front, so that you could lock eyes with Kie when she was on stage as a form of moral support, but all of the front seats were taken.

Slightly disappointed, you had to take a seat in the back, near the exit.

When Kie saw that smile you gave her, she knew something had to be done. Even when the two of you weren’t really on the best terms, you continued to support her.

She loved you so fucking much.

Right then and there, Kiara made a decision, one she hoped she wouldn’t come to regret in the future.

An hour had gone by, and many performers had made their way on and off the stage in the small cafe. You counted down the performers until your best friend went on the stage, nervously playing with the straw on your cup. Even though you weren’t the one going up on the stage, you still felt terrified.

When the performer before your friend was reading off the last lines of his slam poem, your heart began to race.

The guy walked off, and you watched your friend stand up.

“Next up, we have Kiara Carrera, performing an original song called ‘differences aside.’ Let’s give her a very warm welcome!”

You could barely hear the announcer calling Kie’s name over the sound of your heart pounding.

Up on the stage, Kiara’s heart was pounding just as loud.

See, when Kie showed up at your house earlier in the day, she had completely intended to sing the song the two of you had written together. ‘Differences Aside’ was a beautiful song, and one she was very proud of. However, after the events that had went down on the way to the cafe, her mind had changed.

She was writing a song she had written by herself.

A song she wrote about you.

“Hey, everyone, I’m Kiara. I know I said that I was gonna be singing a song called ‘Differences Aside,’ but there’s been a slight change of plans. I’m going to be singing a different original instead. I hope you all enjoy it.”

When she had finished talking, she made direct eye contact with you. You were shocked by her words, and a little bit upset. Was she really so frustrated with you, or hurt by your previous conversation, that she refused to sing the song you wrote together?

It was heartbreaking, and you moved lower in your seat as she began strumming her guitar, fighting the tears forming in your eyes.

“I grew pretty attached to you,

Like a dog on a lead

Thought you were everything I could’ve dreamed of,

And all I could ever need.

But you like him, him, him

And you don’t like me.”

Kiara’s voice rang out as she began singing. She sounded beautiful, and the song was very pretty.

You would’ve loved it, but you were slightly confused.

With every word she sang, she was looking directly into your eyes.

“Always thought you looked at me differently

Than any other you'd see

Thought you were aching to see me

At any, any possibility

But you like boys, boys, boys

And you don't like me.”

Your eyes widened at the last lyrics.

Was this song about you?

“I could be a bitch and tell you a million reasons why

Being with me would be much better than with any other guy

I could tell you I'll treat you right

And never wrong

Tell you in my arms is where you belong

“But I know that you can't change someone

So I'll just leave you alone, although

I wish you liked girls, girls, girls

Wish you liked girls, girls, girls

Girls like me.”

With Kie looking in your eyes as she sang, the lyrics hit you hard.

She did have feelings for you.

Tears began to sting your eyes, and you were overcome with emotion. You dropped Kie’s eyes, grabbing your things and standing up. Unable to stay any longer, you ran out the door, crying as you did.

Inside, up on the stage, Kiara’s heart dropped as she watched you leave. She had no choice but continue to sing.

“I wish you would’ve been more clear

When I was hanging out with you

That women isn't really something

That you've ever been into

'Cause you like boys, boys, boys

And you don't like me.”

Tears began to fall as she sang, blurring her eyes. She just kept strumming, putting everything she had into the last verse and chorus of the song.

“And I know you don't swing that way

But that won't take my feelings away

Oh I wish you liked girls

I wish you liked girls

Like me”

It became harder to sing as sobs caught in her throat, but she pushed through. She was going to make it through this performance. She had to.

“I could be a bitch and tell you a million reasons why

Being with me would be much better than with any other guy

I could tell you I'll treat you right

And never wrong

Tell you in my arms is where you belong

But I know that you can't change someone

So I'll just leave you alone, although

I wish you liked girls, girls, girls

Wish you liked girls, girls, girls

Girls like me”

When the last chord rang out at the end of the song, the crowd erupted in applause and murmurs. Kie choked out a quiet ‘thank you’ in the microphone before running off the stage and outside to you.

She was so so scared that she’d ruined everything.

When she got out there, you on the phone, sniffling as you spoke.

“See you soon. Okay, bye.”

You turned around, and your cheeks immediately went pink when you saw her.

“Hi.” You said softly, not knowing what else to do.

“Who was that on the phone?”

“Hunter.”

Kie’s heart dropped when she heard the name. She recalled your words from when she’d first walked out. ‘See you soon.’ Her heart dropped further.

“Is he coming to pick you up?”

You shook your head, causing a small bit of relief to flood through kiara. “What were you talking to him about?”

You paused for a moment, dropping the eye contact the two of you were making.

“I broke up with him.”

Your friend let out a light gasp, hope entering her mind once again. “Oh.”

You just nodded, looking anywhere but at Kiara.

“May I ask why?”

Your response was simple.

You ran up to her and kissed her.

Finally.

Kiara was taken aback, but kissed back eagerly, so happy this was finally happening.

And when she was kissing you, everything was good.

Maybe changing the song was a good idea after all.

#kiara carrera #kie carrera #kie carerra x reader #kiara carrera x reader #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #obx #obx fanfiction #kiara carerra fanfiction #kie carrera fanfiction #kiara carrera one shot #kie carrera one shot

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romantic-barnes · 4 years

Text

strawberry & tape | part six

| part six - take a shot, cherry schnapps |

Pairings: dark!biker!bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes has the town in his hands and a lot of blood. All you have is a cafe your mother left you after her passing. But as Bucky’s attention moves to you, do you have the strength to pay revenge for his wrongdoings? Does your push into the dark paradise end in love or blood?

Warnings: mention of suicide, possessiveness, violence This is dark bucky! please don’t read if you are uncomfortable with any of the topics mentioned above!

A/N: I know this is a little short but believe me it’s worth it. The next part will be the last and I cannot wait to show you how it ends! Please don’t read if you are under 18!

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

'Cause if we don't leave this town We might never make it out I was not born to drown Baby come on

It was early when you woke. Eyes opening heavily, focused on the window. You sensed the emptiness beside you, but fear still struck, soaring through your veins. You rolled onto your back, head slowly turning to find Bucky gone from beside you. But you knew he was just there mere minutes ago, his perfume lingering on the sheets, swirling in the air.

You dressed yourself, washed your face and walked out of the room. The dining room looked like a distant nightmare to you, but this time the chairs were empty; except for one: Bucky’s. He sat with his arm resting on the table, shovelling food into his mouth. The floor beneath you creaked as you stepped further into the room, a betrayal from the house with love. Bucky’s head rose, gaze roaming over your body.

You sat opposite him, afraid to move too fast. Bucky’s eyes met yours briefly before travelling down your arm to your hand laying atop the wood. A smile creeping onto his face at the sight of the diamond adorning your finger. His proud prize, his bride to be.

You ate in silence with the eyes of Bucky following your every move, the plate clearing of food painfully slow. Once you finished, you rose from your seat trying to find the words but as your eyes met his, every single word you’ve ever known escaped, fled from your head. Bucky’s eyebrows raised at your silence, arms resting beside the plate. “Everything alright, darling?” He asked curiously, but you caught the sarcasm.

You nodded, opening your mouth. “I’m going into work today.” Your mouth tasted like cardboard. “Darling.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up, a flash of silver in his iris. “Good for you. It’s important to be busy. You might want to look for someone to take over the cafe though. Better start looking now before it’s too late.”

Your breath caught itself in your throat. “Why?” You squeaked out.

“Because once we have children you won’t be able to take care of a business. I need you here full time. Take care of my offspring and the house, then it will be your responsibility.”

The thought alone frightened you. This house wasn’t a home, its wasn’t a place for children to grow up and you knew that no one should grow up having Bucky as a father. A man so wicked and demonic it was impossible to imagine him running around town with a baby in his arms. The possibility of him killing the child was too high and him strangling you in your sleep was way too possible.

You started to see the cafe with your mother’s eyes. The first glance, shiny and cute, fading with every blink. The paint chipping at the corners, chairs crooked and the smell of your mothers dead body in the back slowly making it’s way through the vents.

You got everything ready for opening, but your mind was anxious about Mrs Wilson’s arrival, eyes jumping to the door in hopes to see her walking up the stairs, but she wasn’t there. Hours and hours went by and no sight of her. The possibility of an escape became slippy, flowing through your dry hands.

You stared out of the window, lips parted and chapped. Your breath the only prove that you’re alive, the rising and falling of your chest, shaky but there. The beating of your heart confirming the life inside you, but the rest of your body was still, limb. Outside the sun was shining, rays of sunlight flowing through the trees, passing branches on the way down to the ground.

The sound of the clock brought you back to life. Time. You looked over at it, hope further slipping between your fingers. It was time to clean up. Like you were in trance you started your routine but movement from the corner of your right eye surprised you.

And there she was. Mrs Wilson climbed the stairs to the door and as the bell rang she stepped inside dressed in blue. Her eyes met yours and her face lit up. “Y/n, good to see you.” She stood in front of you. “Sorry for being so late I was held up by Stephen at the post office he- are you alright?”

You shook your head slightly to focus. Her eyes staring into yours with worry. “I- yes I’m fine. Just worried you wouldn’t come that’s it.”

“You look sick.”

You wiped your forehead, the back of your hand coating in sweat. “I just want to know that your plan is going to work.”

Mrs Wilson reached over the counter to place her hand on your shoulder. “Sadly I can’t promise anything, but it’s worth a try. The plan is safe as long as it stays between us.” Her lips curled to a reassuring smile but worry still found it’s way into your blood, flowing through my arms and down my legs. “So you agree to it? You’ll be there?”

You simply nodded your head.

“Alright. On Saturday you are going to work just like you did today, at one fourty-five you’ll leave but make sure you keep everything as it is. That means lights on, food still on display. You have to take Elsberg street instead of Köpenick street, it’s that weirs smelling ally to the right.You’ll come out to the back of Magnolia Flowers and that’s where he’ll meet you.”

“Does he know that I’m escaping?”

“No, he just thinks he’s giving you a ride to the city to visit family. Once you’re in the city though, my friend Ally will take you in, she owns a pet store in the east and will take you there.”

You swallow thickly. This plan required you to leave not only Dawn, but also move to the other side of the country.

You started cleaning up as soon as Mrs Wilson left and a sense of hope lit within you, a light sparking in you heart. You turned off the lights in the back and heard the bell chimed gain thinking it was Mrs Wilson gain you walked to the front, but instead of her it was Bucky standing in the middle of the cafe.

He stood there with flowers in his hands and as you approached him you thought the light within you would die, but it didn’t. It kept on burning.

“Come one, darling.” Bucky handed you the flowers and gestured for you to leave. While you walked towards his bike, Bucky’s demeanour frightened you. What if he heard you and Mrs Wilson talk? As if the walls turned to linnen, thin enough to hear the words of betrayal in his ears.

Your couldn’t read his face as you sat behind him on his bike, flowers in one hand and the other holding on to his body for dear life. The houses passed you with speed, wind blowing beneath the helmet and all seemed so easy. You had no idea where Bucky was going but you didn’t care about that either. Tomorrow was coming and with the sun lowering behind Dawn you were reassured it was.

The calm of knowing that you will be gone from here.

Bucky came to a stop and you looked at the destination ahead of you. A small bar with motorcycles standing all around it. The neon sign flickering with every letter. With the flowers in hand you walked behind Bucky into the gloomy atmosphere, a change of scenery from the dull environment you were usually in. A place foreign to you.

Bucky led you through the room to a table full of familiar faces. You didn’t know their names nor did you need to. A quick glance from everyone and you sat down, laying the flowers atop the table.

Bucky ordered round after round, encouraging you to take a drink as well, but you knew you needed a good nights sleep for tomorrow. So Bucky and the other Howling Commandos kept their stomachs full of beer and the air full of words. You sat quietly, observing the people around you until someone mentioned your name.

“Are those flowers from Magnolia? Bucky you’re a gentlemen.” Your head turned to the flowers on the table and it was true. They are from Magnolia flowers. Lana. She worked there.

“Yes, they are.” Bucky’s arm swung around your shoulders. “Best flower shop in town.”

Your chest tightened at the mention. You looked at Bucky and his smirk stopped the blood flowing through your veins. It was intentional. It has to be. Satanic. That’s the only word you could describe his intention. Bucky’s lack of sympathy and the maniacal actions he had shown you over the moths you’ve known him were driving you to near insanity. He was mad.

You looked back at the flowers, staring at their petals of red and yellow. “I want to go.” You murmured.

“What was that?” Bucky asked.

“Can we please go?” Your gaze met his and Bucky travelled your face, a smirk forming on his lips.

“Sure, darling.” Bucky said and rose from his seat. You took the flowers from the table and took one last look at the group, hoping that this would be the last picture of them in your mind.

As you made it to the house Bucky walked ahead of you, up the stairs to his room. You found it strange since he never goes to bed with you at the same time. You entered the room, placing the flowers on the table and heading straight to the bathroom to get ready for bed, but Bucky’s hand stopped you.

He turned you around with one swift move, the look in his eyes making the blood shoot straight to your head.

“Get on your knees.”

If the sun don't shine on me today And if the subways flood and bridges break Will you lay yourself down and dig your grave Or will you rail against your dying day

[ next ]

[ taglist closed ]

#dark bucky #dark!bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #biker!bucky #biker bucky #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #dark!mcu #biker AU #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #clair writes

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

Text

Warriors in Red Armor

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Chapter Four

Nora I

Nora was in one of the nicer cells. She didn't like to brag, but she had been arrested often enough to know the difference. And she had the cell to herself, which was new and different. Normally, the Corrie Guard shoved as many beings into each cell as they could manage without crushing anyone.

Soon enough, some of the more violent members of Clone Rights filled the surrounding cells. Even then, Nora's cell remained single-occupancy.

"You gonna get us outta this one, Czajak?" a male Bothan named Esk Meh'reer asked through the transparisteel barrier.

"Of course, Meh'reer," Nora said with a scoff. "We didn't even do anything. This one'll be easier than any of the other times."

"Well, you didn't do anything," Meh'reer told her with a grin. "We may have defaced some property after we saw you get arrested. Nothing too bad, though. Just tore down some signs. Oh, actually, I'm pretty sure Gadi threw a bench."

Nora rolled her eyes at the mention of the exuberant Lasat. "Gadi always throws something. I think she cares more about throwing stuff around than she does about getting rights for clones, but at least she's on our side."

"Hey, our cells share a wall!" Gadi cheered, pushing herself out of the crowd as if she had been summoned. "Want me to see if I can throw this bed?"

"Probably not, Gadi," Nora discouraged. "It'll be a lot harder to fight the charges if we start breaking things inside of the precinct."

"Aw, you'll be able to get us out of it," Gadi told her. "You're the best lawyer on Coruscant!"

Nora chuckled and shook her head, choosing not to tell her fellow protesters that she may not be a lawyer much longer if she kept doing this. Her boss had already threatened to demote her after he had found out about her work. Was it a bad thing that she had a tendency to defend protesters pro bono?

"Nora Czajak," a clone trooper announced, opening the door to Nora's cell. "You're being charged, come with me."

Surprise made Nora slow. The charges were almost never filed this quickly. She had been arrested less than twelve hours ago! Still, the sooner she knew how bad things were going to be, the sooner she could start forming a defense for herself and the others. Gamely, she rose and followed the trooper, admiring his red-accented armor as she went.

When she stepped from the room, cheers erupted from the surrounding cells.

"Go, Nora!"

"Give 'em hell!"

"Pinch that guy's ass while you're in there!"

"Gadi…" Nora sighed to fight back a chuckle. The temptation to laugh grew worse when she turned and found that the trooper had stopped and was staring at her. She couldn't see through his helmet, obviously, but she would have bet that he looked less than thrilled. With her most professional lawyer smile, she said, "Following you, sir."

He shook his head a little bit and kept walking. They passed another red-accented trooper as they walked, and he leaned in a bit to place his helmet's speakers next to Nora's ear. "If you pinch Thorn's shebs, I'll transfer you twenty credits."

"Will that be worth the jail time for harassment, though?" she asked with a conspiratorial grin.

He shrugged. "It would be for me."

"Thire, leave her alone," her escort - presumably Thorn - ordered. "I have to take her to see Stone."

Stone was one of Nora's favorite troopers, and she didn't even need Thorn's guidance to find her way to his office. Thorn gave a polite knock on the door. "Nora Czajak for you, Commander."

"Stone! How are you? Did you redecorate the office?" Nora asked, breezing into the office like it was her own.

Stone blinked at her. "Of course I didn't redecorate. When would I have redecorated? You were here last week."

"That is a difficult point to argue," she conceded.

"I'm sure you'll figure out a way," Stone said dryly. "Thank you, Commander Thorn."

As soon as Thorn had left, Nora crossed her legs comfortably and leaned forward to stare at Stone. "So, what's it going to be this time, Commander? A fine, some jail time..?"

"Neither," Stone told her shortly, crossing his arms over his chest. It would have looked more natural if he weren't in full armor - minus the helmet - but Nora had to admit that there was something intimidating about the dull crack of plastoid meeting plastoid. "Command has decided that fines don't seem to work for you. And every time you spend more than a few days in jail, you come out with more violent followers for your Clone Rights group. Then those followers trash the city even worse in your next demonstration. It's a vicious cycle."

"Mm, such a conundrum," Nora agreed. "What's the solution, Stone?"

"Community service."

Now, it was Nora's turn to blink in confusion. "Community service? My sentence is community service?"

"Yeah, a hundred hours of it," he said, shaking his head a bit.

"And- what about the others? What are they getting sentenced to?"

"Community service," Stone repeated, sounding almost as confused as she was. "All of the demonstrators we arrested are serving time. Not as much as you, but it'll all be community service."

Nora opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "Stone, this is stupid. What is going on? Community service is for parking violations and cursing at shop-keepers. You have us dead to rights on destruction of property, disturbing the peace, and intention to incite a riot. What are you doing?"

"Are you asking for a harsher punishment?" Stone asked with a twinkle in his brown eyes.

"Of course not!" she snapped. "It's just suspicious. Since when does the Coruscant Guard let violations like this slide?"

"Since today," he said with a shrug. "Orders straight from Head Commander Fox himself."

"Head Commander Fox?" Nora asked, distracted by the mention of the clone trooper she had met the previous night. He had been willing to debate her in a cruiser on the way back to the precinct. His method of forming an argument had been clumsy, but his points had been valid. It was a welcome distraction from the unpleasantness of the march's end. And here she was, finding out that Fox was actually the commander in charge of the other commanders. "What was a Head Commander of the GAR doing babysitting a Clone Rights march?"

"Maybe he wanted to come see your model behavior first-hand," Stone told her sarcastically. At Nora's sharp look, he relented. "Fine. Commander Fox doesn't pass duties along. He does everything he asks his men to do. That includes supervising marches, pulling patrols, and booking troublemakers."

Ignoring the pointed implication that she was a troublemaker, Nora changed the subject. "Who is going to be supervising my community service hours?"

"That'll be…" Stone consulted a page in front of him before answering - though how he found a single piece of flimsi in the disaster zone that was his desk was beyond Nora. "Trooper Beam. He's in charge of community service efforts. Poor evaar is gonna have his work cut out for him, supervising your protesters."

"That has to be about seventy people," she argued. "One trooper can't supervise all of us."

"That's his job," Stone said with a shrug.

Nora leaned back, lost in thought. "You know, it would be terrible of me to expect one trooper to supervise all of the arrested Clone Rights members and all one-hundred hours of my own community service. I should really request to be assigned to another Coruscant Guard trooper."

"Who were you thinking?" Stone's voice was filled with wariness.

Nora peered thoughtfully around the room. The morning sunlight didn't even reach this part of Coruscant. Instead, the light from a nearby holo-ad provided the only outside light in the commander's office.

When she felt Stone staring at her impatiently, Nora smirked and answered, "Why, Head Commander Fox, of course."

---

Fox II

It had been a long night, and it promised to be an even longer day. Fox was already on his second set of stims, and he still had an estimated twenty hours before he could think about collapsing in his quarters.

At that particular moment, he was talking to Sergeant Hound about some woman the sergeant was processing. He was trying, anyway. Fox's attention was far away. Part of him was trying to calculate how long it had been since he had last slept while the rest of him was trying to calculate how long he had until he could sleep again.

"So, what do you think, Commander?" Hound asked, bringing Fox's attention back to him.

"You know I trust you, Hound," Fox told the trooper, patting him on the shoulder. "Do what you think is best."

"Really? Thank you, sir!" Hound said, face brightening.

Briefly wondering what he had just agreed to, Fox turned away and was immediately met with Commander Stone beckoning him over.

"Sir, I need you to come speak with the woman I'm sentencing."

"You know you're the one in charge of sentencing, Commander Stone," Fox reminded.

"I know, sir, but she's requesting that you oversee her community service personally," Stone told him.

Fox's brows lifted before he could stop the expression. "And that is Trooper Beam's area." Honestly, what was the point of dividing the Coruscant Guard into departments if everyone was going to ask him to do their job anyway?

"Yes, sir, but…" Stone sighed, looking more defeated than Fox had ever seen him. "Can you please come tell her that? She won't take my refusal as a proper answer."

Fox shook his head, but started for Stone's office. "Who is this woman?"

"Nora Czajak."

"Kriff, no," Fox refused before he could think better of it.

"You're lucky I'm not easily offended, Head Commander," Czajak said, appearing in the doorway of Stone's office.

"I won't oversee your community service," Fox snapped.

"Maybe you should step inside, Commander," Stone wearily advised. "She has a full argument ready."

Well, he could at least hear her out. Fox entered Stone's office, immediately feeling as though a trap had been sprung when the other commander shut the door - with himself on the outside. Fox cracked the door open enough to peer out. "Stone, aren't you coming?"

"Kriff, no, Commander," Stone denied. "I'm going to get some caf and maybe some alcohol. Good luck."

When Fox turned back around, he found that Nora had seated herself in Stone's chair behind the Commander's desk. Everything was a power game for her. Since he refused to give her the satisfaction of asking her to leave the seat, Fox walked to the transparisteel window beside her. He peered outside, as if an advertisement for nerf steaks was the most interesting thing he had seen all day.

"I still won't oversee your community service," Fox's tone was blunt.

"You look like hell," Czajak's tone was also blunt, and he almost turned to look at her, but caught himself in time. "Don't you sleep?"

Even the mention of sleep was enough to make his eyes burn. "I'm a busy man, Czajak. Too busy for sleep and too busy to supervise community service hours."

"Maybe you should sit down before you fall down, Commander."

He scoffed, still staring out of the window. "I don't need your pity."

A moment later, a hard bump against the back of his knees had Fox falling backward into a chair he vaguely recognized as the one that sat behind Stone's desk. Czajak stepped around him, shaking her head, and sat down in a guest chair. Fox frowned. She had given up a position of power, the implied high ground in this office.

"I think you should be the one to oversee my community service," she started.

"I disagree," Fox countered.

"You are the one who decided that community service was the right answer for members of Clone Rights who were arrested, yes?" He nodded, already searching for the trap in her question. "How is it fair for you to put that much work on your trooper in charge of overseeing it? He didn't ask for so much responsibility."

Why was this woman always fighting to infantilize him and his brothers? "I assure you, Beam is fully capable of withstanding the stress."

"Well, I would hate to put him in such a bad position," Czajak mused. "I probably would feel so guilty that I would skip all my community service appointments."

"Then you'll be arrested for failure to appear."

"And I'll be sentenced to jail time, in which I will gain more followers," she said with a satisfied smile. "That's the fear, correct?"

Kriffing Stone and his running mouth. Fox gritted his teeth. "If you fail to appear for appointments, I will take the appropriate measures to ensure that you pay your debt to society."

"I'm sure you would," Czajak agreed easily. Too easily. "However, would it not be more simple to agree to oversee my community service yourself? We could avoid all of the unpleasantness for the low price of one-hundred hours of your time."

"You couldn't afford that low price," Fox snorted.

Czajak's eyes glinted in amusement. "How about this, then? Your men rave about your leadership and how you never ask them to do anything you wouldn't be willing to do yourself. I know most of your men consider me to be the worst of the worst. I received the highest number of required community service hours. By taking on the responsibility of… well, of me, you would be proving that your willingness to do all aspects of the job is true in every situation."

Fox's head ached as he tried to find a way of refuting her point. It was a solid argument and she knew it from the way she was smiling at him. He suddenly understood why Commander Stone had refused to come to this part of the meeting.

"Fine," he ground out, voice low and harsh. "I'll oversee your community service. I don't know why you're being so insistent about it, but it won't be fun. You'll show up when and where I tell you, and stay as long as I deem fit. And if I hear a single complaint from you, I'll toss you in a cell, new followers be karked. Understood?"

"Perfectly, Commander," Czajak agreed. She was all demure compliance now that she had gotten her way. "Please notify me with the details of our first meeting."

"Consider yourself dismissed," Fox growled at her.

Czajak winked and rose to leave. As she opened the door, Fox heard Chase say, "Ouch! That one pinched me!"

"We talked about this, Gadi!" Nora lectured, leaving Stone's door to close behind her.

Fox rubbed at the lines between his brows. For his own sake, he took a moment to breathe before he had to go deal with whatever that was about.

---

Ransom I

"Okay, the Commander said I was cleared to deal with you as I see fit."

The sentence may have been worded as a threat, but Ransom could sense no malice in the trooper's tone. It didn't matter either way. She had been arrested too many times to count. There was nothing this pleasant-faced officer could do that would frighten her. Well, short of throwing her to his massiff. Even then, she was certain that she would do a great deal of damage before it could take her down.

"Whoa, what's with that face?" he asked, and Ransom immediately smoothed her expression.

"Just waiting for this to be over."

"I also treasure our time together," he smiled, reaching out a hand as if to pat her on the arm. Ransom was a comical distance away, seated on the other side of a wide desk, and she raised one eyebrow in his direction.

"Good news is that I think I've finally located your file," he said, not deterred by her lack of response. He hadn't been all day, actually. Ransom wasn't willing to work with him at all. She believed that he shouldn't need to read through a history of her life to know that the alterations to her cybernetics were illegal and needed to be removed or licensed. Instead, the trooper - who had cheerfully introduced himself several times as Sergeant Hound - had used a biometric scan to track her file.

"Ransom," Hound read from the display. He stared at her for a long moment, dark brows furrowed. "Your name is Ransom?"

"Your name is Hound," she fired back immediately. "Are you sure you want to start this fight?"

"Yeah, but most civvies have a last name."

"Why would I need a last name?" Ransom asked with a frown. "To keep from being confused with all of the other cybernetically-altered Coruscanti women named Ransom?"

"...That's true," Hound conceded. He turned his attention back to the screen and Ransom tensed a bit at what he would find. She braced herself for any number of unpleasant responses. In the past, she had seen everything from pity to awe to disgust, but he simply scanned through the documents - she had a lot of them - and nodded. "Well, you're being charged with disturbing the peace, but that isn't worth jail time or any significant fine. The Head Commander has been on a real community service kick lately, so we'll get you signed up for some of that."

"I'd rather take the jail time," Ransom spat out.

"No you wouldn't," Hound said seriously. "The jail is rough. Full of unsavory characters, terrible food, bad lighting. Plus, your job wouldn't take too kindly to you spending time in jail. None of them ever do. Don't you want to keep working at…" he checked the screen again, "...Red Squad?"

"Red Squad wouldn't fire me for being in jail," Ransom assured him.

"You can't know that for sure," Hound argued. "Trust me, community service is the better way to go."

"I do know for sure, actually," Ransom argued, unsure of why she was pressing the issue.

"Why, you sleeping with the boss or something?" he asked, tossing the datapad to land on the desk's surface.

Ransom smirked a bit at that. "Only in the occasional dry season. I am the boss. Owner, actually. I run Red Squad."

Hound laughed at that, and it was such a rich, cheerful sound that Ransom almost didn't mind that he was laughing at her. Almost.

"Your name is Ransom, no last name, and you own and run a business called 'Red Squad'. Are you secretly a clone trooper?"

"If I ran a squad, wouldn't that mean I outranked you?" Ransom fired back.

"Probably," he said, seeming unconcerned. "It would make you a captain, at least."

"Well, I already have a better-regulation haircut than you," she tried again. She had yet to see a member of the GAR rise to the bait about ranks - particularly the implication that a civilian outranked them - but clone troopers were notoriously fastidious about their appearance.

Hound raked a hand through his too-long hair and grinned at her. "Yeah, it's been a while since I visited the barber. Is my hair distracting you?"

"Hardly," Ransom snorted, pressing away the spark that had lit her belly at his waggling eyebrows.

"Good, then let's talk about your community service," he said. "Normally, you would be in the care of Trooper Beam, but he's recently experienced a flood of requests. I have it on good authority that he has some three thousand hours of community service to oversee after today, so I'll take care of supervising your hours. I'm thinking forty should be more than enough for something as minor as disturbing the peace. Give me your comlink information and I'll contact you for scheduling."

Ransom felt her eyes fly wide before she could bite back the response. "No."

"No?" Hound asked with a pouty sort of frown.

"You're an ARF trooper," she tried again.

Hound beamed warmly at her. "Great job! The average civilian doesn't even know what an ARF trooper is, let alone how to recognize one."

"I'm not an average civilian," Ransom told him, the response flat. "But my point is that you're an ARF. I don't want to do any community service that has to do with massiffs."

His dark eyes softened and warmed with understanding, and Ransom hated it. She didn't want - didn't need - anyone's pity. In her irritation, she lashed out. "So throw me in jail if you want to, bucket head, but I refuse to work with those beasts."

"Hey, I get it," he sympathized, face still kind. Ransom wanted to put her fist through it.

"No, you really don't," she snarled. "I'll-"

"Everything okay in here?" another trooper asked, ducking into the small office.

"Yeah, just chatting," Hound said easily, as if Ransom hadn't been in the middle of threatening him. "What are you up to, Stone?"

"Head Commander's in my office with the Czajak woman," he explained. "I needed to lie low."

"Makes sense to me," Hound gave a sympathetic grimace. "Ransom and I are going over community service options. You're usually in charge of bookings. Care to explain the process?"

"Oh, uh…" Stone hesitated. Ransom would bet that he hadn't expected Hound to actually need help. "We try to match civilians with their skills and interests."

"So you wouldn't force someone to work with an animal they have a strong dislike towards?" Ransom asked sharply, full of skepticism.

"Absolutely not," Stone answered with finality. "And if you mean the massiffs, a lot of civvies are uncomfortable around them. They're not even an option for community service, so there's no worry about that."

"Thank you, Stone!" Hound said, voice cheerful. Looking more than a bit confused, Stone gave a short nod and left. "Feel better?"

"If you knew working with massiffs wasn't an option, why didn't you tell me that?" Ransom crossed her arms over her chest.

"It seemed like you weren't really interested in listening to me," he said with a shrug.

"So you won't need my comlink information after all," she summarized.

"Now, no one said that," Hound hedged. "I can still supervise your community service."

"How?"

"Hey, I do other work around here!" he said, clearly defensive. "I can trade shifts around, pick up some duties cleaning streets or… working with- um, old people..?"

"I think I'll pass," Ransom told him with a snort.

"Suit yourself," Hound shrugged. "In that case, I'll still be the one supervising the licensing process for those cybernetic alterations."

Ransom was ready to argue, but something about the look in his eyes warned that he wouldn't give in so easily. Telling herself she would get a new frequency as soon as she was done registering the alterations, Ransom gave Hound the information he needed. She couldn't leave the precinct soon enough.

---

A/N - There! A full chapter without one Hound POV! Are you proud of me? I'm proud of me. And with this chapter, we've set up all of our couples! Though I might end up having to make a one-shot or side fic with Stone since I love him. This is also one of the longer chapters of this story, so congrats for getting through it!

#Warriors in Red Armor #star wars #star wars the clone wars #tcw #star wars fanfiction #coruscant guard #commander fox #commander thorn #commander thire #sergeant hound #clone troopers deserve better #more to come

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chiaki-translation · 3 years

Text

New Year! Red and White Kakushigei Tournament! Event Translation Ch1-4

Actually, I’ll be going for a short holiday after today, so expect the next few chapters next week~

Short note before the translation part, I actually don’t know how to translate Kakushigei Tournament, it’s like a hidden talent/art competition? If I’m not wrong, it’s a variety show kind of stuffs where you perform unique talents. Few examples can be seen from the cards from this event, things like belly dance, cigar box juggling, ventriloquism, etc. If anyone knows more about what it is, please tell me cause I’m actually not that clear either~

New Year! Kakushigei Tournament Ch1-4 / / Ch5-8 / / Ch9-Epilogue

Disclaimer:

A3! is owned by Liber’s Entertainment

Translator’s Note: I’m keeping it as Kakushigei throughout the story as it cannot be translated. ‘escape game’ refers to escape room type of game. The shrine that they visited in this story has already been visited during previous event in which I haven’t read the story, so do tell me if there’s any inconsistency in my translation.

Manager:

Then without further ado, I will announce the result of the voting…

A has 13 votes, B has 13 votes too!

It’s a draw!

Kumon:

Eh!?

Taichi:

Really!?

Kazunari:

But A is definitely better!

Citron:

No, no! It’s definitely B!

Itaru:

I think A is better.

Tasuku:

B’s better isn’t it.

Yuki:

A seems to be better.

Taichi:

It’s B! B should be the correct choice!

Director:

I didn’t expect this to be a draw. What to do…

Omi:

It’s a bit of a problem…

Tsumugi:

… Eh?

Anyway, where’s Chikage-san and Banri-kun?

Muku:

Ah, you’re right. They are not here.

Azami:

They were just here earlier, right?

Tsuzuru:

Ah, if it’s those two, most probably…

Banri:

… I managed to slip away, but I wonder if it’s alright.

Chikage:

It’s not a good idea to break the atmosphere isn’t it.

Banri:

Well, if it continues that way, we won’t be able to make it for the ‘escape game’, I guess there’s no other choice.

This ‘escape game’ is one that I’m really interested in.

Anyway, that voting before, what did you choose, Chikage-san.

Chikage:

I feel that both are fine… But I choose A.

Banri:

Really, me too.

Chikage:

Haha, so we chose the same thing.

Then, where are we going now?

Banri:

Today’s ‘escape game’ is a little bit different from the usual one.

… Look, this is the game’s website.

Chikage:

Eh, this place…

Chikage:

As I thought, it’s here.

I helped out here during the moon-viewing party before.

Banri:

Ah, that one.

If I remember correctly, I heard that you also danced for the offering ceremony.

Chikage:

You’re right.

Priest:

Oh, you are…

Chikage:

Good afternoon, long time no see.

Priest:

It’s been a while.

Thank you so much for your help during the moon-viewing party.

Chikage:

You’re welcome.

… So, this shrine also holds an ‘escape game’.

Priest:

You came to participate in the ‘escape game’ is it.

Thank you so much.

I’m doing this so that everyone can feel the friendliness of the shrine, in order for everyone to be more interested in this shrine.

We believe for the rabbits to be the divine messenger, there are a lot of rabbit paintings and decorations around, and people mostly visit during the moon-viewing season--.

That’s why, we’re trying to do a special event for end of year.

But during new year, people tend to visit other shrines and temples instead… To be honest, I’m having quite a hard time.

Banri:

It’s a real issue for the temple huh…

Chikage:

True that.

Priest:

… Anyway, what’s your theatre company planning to do at the end of the year?

Chikage:

New year huh?

Most probably it’s going to be the same as usual, end of year party and…

Banri:

That right?

The annual Kakushigei tournament.

Priest:

A Kakushigei tournament huh… I see.

If that’s the case…

Banri:

I’m home.

Chikage:

I’m home.

Director:

The two of you, welcome back.

Citron:

Welcome~!

You were at an ‘escape game’ right?

Banri:

Yeah. Sorry for slipping out during the day.

So about that vote, have you guys made the decision?

Taichi:

About that, we still cannot decide~

Tsuzuru:

The discussion runs in parallel, and in the end we never get to decide.

Banri:

Seriously.

Tenma:

How’s the ‘escape game’?

Chikage:

They have quite elaborate content, it was fun.

Banri:

It’s located in a shrine, but it was fresh and interesting.

Chikage:

Yeah. Actually, the ‘escape game’ this time is held in the rabbit shrine where we did the moon-viewing party last time.

Kazunari:

For real!? So that shrine also holds an ‘escape game’~!

Chikage:

We happened to meet the priest there too.

We were asked if we would like to appear at their end of year event as MANKAI company.

Director:

Is it a performance request!?

Banri:

When we told him that we usually do a Kakushigei tournament during new year, he asked if we would like to show it off as an event there instead.

Tsuzuru:

You mean, it won’t be a play, but a Kakushigei performance!?

Kazunari:

That’s lit!

It sounds interesting to do Kakushigei on the stage of a shrine!

Taichi:

It sounds really fun! I want to do it!

Citron:

… I, am inspired.

Tsuzuru:

What’s with that weird look.

Citron:

The previous voting was a draw. So—

We’ll divide the A and B into red and white group, and battle it out during the Kakushigei tournament, how about that!?

Taichi:

Damn! Citron’s a genius!

Tenma:

Huh!? Seriously.

Sakyo:

I have nothing to say…

Kazunari:

But, by doing that we can take the challenge more seriously, and it should hype out the event more, even the audiences will be more excited isn’t it!?

Director:

You’re right…

That shrine has taken care of us during the moon-viewing party too.

I think it’s a good idea to do this kind of performance once in a while.

Tsuzuru:

Well, it’s true that we haven’t decided on what to do for Kakushigei this year too.

Citron:

Yes!

The chance is here, Kakushigei tournament, everyone let’s hype it up!

Kazunari:

You can show off the different appeal of this theatre company as well!

Right, Frooch-san!

Sakyo:

Geez, fine…

But, if you want to do it, everyone has to give their all.

Taichi:

Alright!

This is so exciting~!

Banri:

Then, we’ll accept the Kakushigei tournament performance.

Director:

Yup, let’s do it!

Chikage:

… Then, there’s actually one more request that I’ve received.

Director:

Priest:

It’s different from the ‘Moon Recital’ that we did during the moon-viewing party, and we haven’t done it in years but…

The past end of year festival… We used to present a dance for the “Rabbit Lunar New Year Fair”.

Chikage:

Hmm, I see.

Priest:

The dance at the moon-viewing party was wonderful, even if it’s only this year, I would like to revive this tradition, I would like to request this from you.

Banri:

The priest also mentioned about a special reward.

Tsuzuru:

Something special from the priest?

It can’t be…

Chikage:

The reward is not a figurine this time, I have confirmed it.

Kazunari:

Oh, really?

Taichi:

What will the reward be~!?

I’m getting even more excited now!

Sakyo:

Even as theatre company, the moon-viewing party was one of good reputation.

I was grateful we received such request that time.

Director:

You’re right. Then, let’s accept the dance offer as well!

Director:

So, for the dance, I’ll leave it to the members here!

Banri:

Yup.

Chikage:

Please treat me well.

Hisoka:

Zzz…

Tsuzuru:

Mikage-san, please wake up.

Azuma:

Fufu, the line-up sounds good.

Director:

Chikage-san, Tsuzuru-kun, Hisoka-san, and Juza-kun, the four of you have participated in the moon-viewing party before right.

I’ll be counting on you.

Juza:

I’m going to give it my all for the performance this time too.

Tenma:

But, the Kakushigei will run in parallel with the performance, you have to practice for both, it’s going to be quite taxing.

Director:

For the details, I will be meeting the priest in the near future to discuss about it.

Tenma:

Hmm? Someone’s phone is ringing.

Banri:

Ah, it’s mine.

… My bad, it’s a phone call.

I’ll go out for a bit.

Azuma:

Go ahead.

Chikage:

…Hmm?

Banri:

Eh, isn’t is Chikage-san.

It’s rare to see you around here.

Chikage:

I was on my favorite curry shop.

On my way back now.

Banri:

You’re a spice maniac as usual… So dedicated.

Chikage:

I’ll take it as a compliment.

Then, what are you doing, Banri?

Banri;

Shopping for the Kakushigei.

Chikage:

Oh, as expected of Banri.

You’re pretty dedicated as the leader of the red group.

Banri:

You said something nice for someone who partly got forced into that position…

Staff:

It’s amazake! Try it out!

Banri:

Hmm?

Staff!

I’m giving out amazake samples!

Would you like to try one?

Banri:

Why not, I’ll take it.

Staff:

Alright, there you go~

Chikage:

Thank you.

Banri:

It’s warm.

Chikage:

… Sweet.

Banri:

Is it really that sweet?

Amazake’s usually like this.

Chikage:

The one that I drink before had ginger in it, I could drink it because it wasn’t as sweet.

Banri:

Ah, I’m the opposite of that. When I was small, I drank amazake with ginger and it was a bit too much, it became kind of a trauma.

Since then, the amazake that’s served in my house was always the sweet malted rice kind and by the time we realized it, it has become a new year tradition for us.

Well, I feel that if I can choose, I prefer the sweet one.

Chikage:

Oh, I see.

Then, would you like to drink my share too?

Banri:

… If that, I have to refuse.

Director:

Then, let’s start the meeting for the dance team.

Juza:

Right.

Tsuzuru:

… Eh, why is Citron-san here?

Banri:

Citron-san is not a member of the dance team right.

Citron:

As White team, I’m going to latch on the Red team’s conversation and check if I can get any useful information!

Tenma:

What is that even.

Azuma:

As usual, the prince is an interesting one.

Director:

Anyway, let’s move on…

When I went to ask for the details, he requested for a casual dance performance for young people.

The acting part will also be similar to last time, and I’m going to ask Tsuzuru to arrange something for it.

Tsuzuru:

It will be a good learning experience to arrange a performance that has been handed down through generations, I’m more than happy to do it.

Director:

About the dance, the Priest will be training you.

Chikage:

He taught us during the moon-viewing party as well.

Tsuzuru:

Ah…

That priest’s training was really a strict one wasn’t it.

Juza:

… When it comes to training, his tone changes completely.

Hisoka:

… Yeah.

Azuma:

Really.

Banri:

On the contrary, I’m actually looking forward to it.

Director:

Then, that’s all for today’s meeting.

Thank you for your hard work.

Chikage:

Good work.

Citron:

Oh!

Everyone, look~!

Hisoka:

… Ah.

Director:

It’s snowing…!

Azuma:

Speaking of which, the weather forecast did say that it might snow today.

Banri:

No wonder it’s cold.

Tenma:

Oh, it’s beautiful.

Juza:

Yeah.

Tsuzuru:

It’s snowing quite heavily.

Chikage:

Yeah, it looks like it’s going to pile up soon.

Kumon:

When there’s snow, of course we have to do snowball fight!

Let’s go~! Take this!

Taichi:

You did it huh~ I’m not going to lose either!

Taichi Special Blizzard Shot!!

Misumi:

Oh oops~!

Take this!

Kazunari:

Sakusaku, you’re wide open!

There!

Sakuya:

Woah!?

Muku:

Make the snow round, then…

Yuki:

A snowman?

Muku:

Yup! We don’t have much snow yet, so I think I can only make a small one.

Tsumugi:

I think even the small one is cute.

I’ll try to make one too.

Yuki:

Then, I think I have a button that will fit a snowman, I’ll bring it here.

Chikage:

The hype is up.

Tsuzuru:

Everyone’s so energetic.

Kumon:

Ah, Big Brother! Let’s play together~!

Juza:

My bad, but we’re going to practice at the shrine now.

Kumon:

Oh, I see~. That’s too bad…

Kazunari:

Everyone, fight on!

Misumi:

Have a safe trip!

Azuma:

When the shrine’s covered with snow, the atmosphere it gives out is quite different, it’s beautiful.

Tsuzuru:

You’re right. I feel like I’m starting to get some ideas too.

Banri:

Oh, there’s a rabbit hut.

Chikage:

The one over here, this rabbit is said to be the rabbit priest of the shrine.

Tenma:

Oh… So, it’s Mr. rabbit priest.

Tsuzuru:

I was utterly manipulated by this rabbit that escaped previously…

Juza:

Yeah…

Hisoka:

It was pretty hard to catch him, it was rough.

Chikage:

Well, it seems that he’s going to stay put today, isn’t it great.

Priest:

Everyone, thank you for coming.

Azuma:

Good afternoon.

I’m looking forward to work with you this time.

Priest:

Same here, pleased to work with you.

Banri:

Then, let’s start our practice immediately.

Priest:

Before that…

Banri:

Tenma:

Why does it have to be us, it becomes a snow shoveling session…

Hisoka:

Snooze…

Tsuzuru:

Mikage-san, please don’t fall asleep in the middle of the snow!

Chikage:

I’m more or less done getting rid of the snow over here.

Banri:

Azuma-san, how’s over there?

Azuma:

Is this alright?

Juza:

It’s a beautiful snow bunny.

Hisoka:

It’s fluffy, it’s cute.

Reminds me of Azuma.

Tsuzuru:

I understand about shoveling the snow in the main road, but I wonder what the snow bunny is about.

Banri:

I wonder. Well, it seems that he’s going to explain later anyway, for now, let’s just continue making them.

Juza:

…

Banri:

No, yours is not even a rabbit anymore!

Tsuzuru:

Somehow, it becomes a mysterious creature instead…

Tenma:

Banri-san’s snow bunny looks like the real thing.

Chikage:

As expected.

Banri:

Well, this much is pretty easy.

Hisoka:

Tenma’s one is just a round snowball with the leaf ears…

Tenma:

Uh, I don’t know how to make the shape of the snow bunny.

Azuma:

I think this kind of snow bunny is cute too though.

Banri:

Tsuzuru’s snow bunny… Somehow, it’s a bit disappointing.

Chikage:

You’re right.

Tsuzuru:

What do you even mean by that.

Juza:

Hisoka-san’s snow bunny looks great.

Hisoka:

It’s white, and round… I’m seeing marshmallow…

Banri:

Eh, wait! Don’t eat the snow!

Tsuzuru:

Chikage-san’s snow bunny… Somehow…

It has a unique shape to it.

Tenma:

I thought you would make a perfect snow bunny, just like Banri-san.

Azuma:

Fufu, it’s kind of surprising.

Chikage:

… If you are living the normal life of an office worker, not being able to make something like this is normal.

Hisoka:

… Be strong.

Chikage:

Shut up.

#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! translation #a3! event #hisoka mikage #chikage utsuki #settsu banri #minagi tsuzuru #hyodo juza #yukishiro azuma

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lokiondisneyplus · 4 years

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Over five popular seasons, the story lines of “Better Call Saul” have unfolded across nail salons, fried-chicken joints and other strip-mall staples of American life.

When new episodes begin premiering next year, though, the locations that give the “Breaking Bad” spinoff its texture could be reined in or done away with altogether. The culprit? The novel coronavirus, which is limiting where the New Mexico-set AMC show can film, potentially altering both its style and substance.

“Like a lot of other people, we’re going to have to be very creative in where and how we shoot,” said Mark Johnson, the veteran producer who oversees the Vince Gilligan hit, whose writers just began collaborating on the series’s sixth season. “A lot of places just won’t let you in.”

Across the entertainment industry, casts and crew are beginning to return to work after a five-month hiatus. In states with loosened restrictions, such as Georgia and New York, production is starting to crank up under tight controls that alter how sets operate. Instead of crew members freely mingling, they’re being divided into “pods" that limit how production departments such as wardrobe or lighting can associate. Covid-19 officers monitor the health of the cast and crew to determine who is allowed on set. “Zones” dictate where those cast and crew can go.

These changes might seem technical, but they hint at the far-reaching effects the virus will have on final screen products. Interviews with 12 executives, writers, agents and producers across the Hollywood spectrum suggest a dramatically transformed world of entertainment. Until a vaccine comes along, they say, covid-19 will change what Americans watch as dramatically as it has where they work, shop and learn. Forget the new normal — movies and TV are about to encounter the new austerity.

Crowd scenes are a no-go. Real-world locations will be limited. On-screen romance will be less common, sometimes restricted to actors who have off-screen relationships. And independent films — that tantalizing side dish in the U.S. entertainment meal — could be heavily scaled back.

“A lot of people believe this is just about getting back to work,” said Mark Gill, a producer and former head of Warner Independent Pictures, the studio unit responsible for independent hits such as “Slumdog Millionaire” and “Good Night, and Good Luck.” “They don’t realize the massive cultural impact we’re about to face.”

For most of its history, Hollywood created entertainment based on a simple premise: Shuttle in large numbers of people and move them around at will. That’s certainly true of crews. But it especially applies to extras, the low-paid day laborers who pack sets and off-camera holding areas in order to create dense crowd scenes — and, in turn, lend the work real-world atmosphere.

Such scenes have of course been part of some of the most memorable moments in Hollywood history. From “Ben-Hur” to “Braveheart,” on-screen entertainment has become indelible thanks to hundreds of people you’ve never heard of packing tiny spaces, then moving as one when the cameras roll.

Yet the virus has essentially made these hires impossible. Many don’t want to risk their health for a $100 paycheck and remote shot at background glory, and producers don’t want to take on the liability even if they did. “Braveheart" used about 1,600 extras, many from the Irish Army reserves. Experts say the movie couldn’t come close to being shot today.

“Those of us in the entertainment business are not used to being told ‘no’‚” said Lucas Foster, a longtime Hollywood producer who counts the 2005 romantic-action hit “Mr. & Mrs. Smith” and last year’s Oscar-decorated blockbuster “Ford v Ferrari” among his credits. “And when it comes to things like crowds, there’s going to be a lot of no.”

Foster understands the challenges personally — he’s one of the first producers to have made a movie in the age of covid-19.

In March, the Los Angeles resident was in Australia, several weeks into preproduction on a new version of “Children of the Corn” when the pandemic began to spread. Millions of dollars had already been committed to the movie, adapted from the same Stephen King story that yielded the 1984 cult hit. So rather than shut down, he decided to proceed — cautiously. Foster created a production bubble, consulted doctors regularly, procured large amounts of tests, and engaged in elaborate workarounds in realms like crowd scenes.

He said it worked, but with major accommodations.

“I had to figure out how to do a crowd with no more than a few people at the same time. And with very specific camera angles. And by taking actors who would normally be close together and making them not close together,” Foster said. “In the end, I’d get the scene I needed but it looked different than it would have before the pandemic.” (Computer-generated crowds, he and other producers say, only work for more distant shots; anything requiring close-ups needs the real thing.)

It helped, he noted, that many of his actors were children, who are believed less susceptible to the effects of the virus, and that much of the movie was shot in cornfields and other vast outdoor spaces, a luxury not all films have.

Producers say the added cost required to implement all the safeguards could also result in a lower-end finished product. Films and TV shows achieve their level of shine through an endless period of refinement, with actors and directors often attempt 10 or more takes of a scene. With everything now going longer — and thus costing more — they may not have the luxury.

One producer of multiple studio hits said he expects the number of takes to drop significantly as the virus balloons budgets. He also expected a diminution in night scenes, which tend to be more involved and expensive than day scenes. He said some productions will be able to make the switch, but not all will be as lucky.

Also unlucky, say Hollywood veterans: movies where characters seek to get lucky. Many insiders say romantic scenes will be a major challenge in movies. Two agents separately reported they had high-profile clients who told them they wouldn’t shoot love scenes during the pandemic.

“I think every agency right now is looking down their client list to see which actors have spouses who are also actors, because then we could try to get them cast, too,” said one of the agents, who spoke on the condition of anonymity because they were not authorized by their company to speak to the news media. “I’m joking. Sort of.”

The added wrinkle is even if the actors trust each other in real life, many of their characters would still have to take precautions on screen.

“How do you send two characters on a first dinner date when people aren’t really going on first dinner dates?” said a creator of romantic comedies who asked not to be identified because they did not want to be seen as criticizing colleagues who are attempting new projects. “You can send them on a socially distant walk, I guess.”

Writers say that leads to a broader dilemma: how much to incorporate the pandemic into their stories. On one hand, they say they don’t want to pretend the virus doesn’t exist. But acknowledging it poses its own challenges.

“Do you really want your stars wearing masks because that’s what characters would do? Do you want to have people engaging with each other in groups no larger than six? Do you want to write stories where everyone is at a safe distance?” said Mark Heyman, the co-writer of “Black Swan” and “The Skeleton Twins” and creator of the CBS All-Access historical drama “Strange Angel.” “Because a lot of those things won’t be very much fun to watch.”

Yet if creators aren’t willing to do that, he said, it could lead to those shows or movies getting shelved out of a fear that audiences will judge them inauthentic.

Heyman was working on a series set in a high school for Netflix when the lockdowns began. That project has now been put on pause. “It’s not easy to make a show about high school,” he said, “when there is no high school.”

To avoid reminding viewers of the pandemic, creators may take an approach that will lead to an unusual trend.

“I think over the next few years you’re going to see a lot more movies set in the past,” Foster said. “Even movies written for the present will be changed. They’ll make it the ’90s because then you don’t have to deal with these questions. And then you can just put in some cool ’90s music, so everybody wins.”

A few creators have gone the other way, leaning in to the pandemic.

Writers on Apple TV Plus’s “The Morning Show,” set at a news program, have torn up existing scripts to make the pandemic a part of the story line, according to a person familiar with the show who was not authorized to speak about it publicly. But with a lag time of months between shooting and airing, experts say that creators also risk looking out of date by the time episodes release to the public.

Sensing an opportunity, horror filmmakers have also tried to embrace current events.

“The horror genre is very suited to the pandemic and lockdowns — we’re always trying to create a feeling of being trapped anyway,” said the horror filmmaker Nathan Crooker.

When quarantines hit this spring, Crooker gathered nine noted horror filmmakers and had them shoot an anthology film — short fictional movies connected by the larger virus theme — and titled it “Isolation.” He required filmmakers to use only the materials and people they were in lockdown with, even prohibiting Zoom and other technologies.

“I think we’re going to get a very cool effect that mirrors what people are going through,” Crooker said of his work. “But I don’t know that every movie that gets made would want to look like that.”

One consequence of the virus could turn out to be the movies that don’t get made at all.

Some of the most beloved films of the past two decades, from “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” to “Whiplash,” “Little Miss Sunshine” to “Fruitvale Station,” were independently financed. But before rolling cameras, independent productions require insurance policies to protect them from workplace lawsuits, along with completion bonds, in which a guarantor assures they will step in with funds to finish the movie if production is halted.

Experts say no company will cover covid-19 with either policy, effectively preventing production.

“Covid is an absolute disaster for the independent-film industry,” said Sky Moore, a partner in the corporate entertainment department of the Los Angeles law firm Greenberg Glusker who has spent several decades putting together film financing deals. “The lifeblood of independent-film financing is loans, and loans need insurance. Now you have this massive hole in the middle of all of it.”

Moore believes the toll will be vast.

“I think 50 percent of the independent industry goes away,” he said.

(Movies financed by large studios do not buy these policies; Netflix or Disney would just absorb a shutdown or lawsuit as the cost of doing business.)

Even if they can work around the insurance issues, many independent films won’t get made because they simply won’t have the money. “It’s already hard to get funding for a lot of these movies,” said Shaun MacGillivray, a producer who makes large-scale independent documentaries. “And now you’re telling investors the budget is going to be 30 percent higher?”

The independent-film world is trying to push ahead, slowly. The Sundance Film Festival, the epicenter of the indie-film business, where companies like Hulu and Netflix sometimes pay more than $10 million for an independently financed movie, will hold a partially physical, partially virtual edition in January, albeit at just about half the length.

“We are reminded daily of the power of what is made newly visible to us, the importance of what we look at,” Tabitha Jackson, the director of the festival, said in a letter to staff this summer explaining why the festival needed to go on. “My hope for this edition of the Sundance Film Festival is that through a multiplicity of perspectives held by artists and audiences in their various communities we will also come to feel the power of where we look from.” Left unspoken: What happens in 2022, when the well runs dry because new movies can’t be insured and produced?

Whatever entertainment can get made, experts say, will have a more hermetic look. Even television shows, once shot heavily on sets, now often rely on the authenticity of locations; a police procedural feels like it does because detectives are popping into pizza places and apartment buildings.

“We don’t want everything to be a chamber piece,” said Johnson, the “Better Call Saul” executive producer. “But if many shows look different, I think that’s okay, because the world looks different.”

Then, considering the challenge further, he added, “And if that doesn’t work, then at least our show has a lot of deserts and open roads.”

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collapsingintojupiter · 4 years

Text

Sunshine and Stormclouds: Chapter 15

Catch up: Chapter 1 Chapter 1.5 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Summary:

It’s Roman’s birthday. Though his biological parents may not be there for him, his friends are.

Characters: Roman Sanders, Emile Picani, Scout (oc), Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, (baby) Patton.

TW: This is little more than tooth-rotting fluff. You’re good (though of course, message me if you’d like me to put something here).

---

It had been a long day; following an even longer night. Virgil slumped against the couch, eyes closed, his hoodie drawn up over his shoulders. Patton busied himself on the floor nearby, dressing up his bunny in a little blue doll’s dress. Several other stuffed animals that Remy had bought (though the pink bunny by far remained his favorite) lay scattered around him, and a few more assortments of doll’s clothing.

Remy said that Patton had a good fashion taste. Even Logan couldn’t disagree.

Virgil’s eyes were shut, but he was awake - unfortunate as that was - listening to Patton as he finished arranging the dress on his bunny. Once he was happy with it, he moved on to a puppy dog plush. This one he wrapped - awkwardly, with his chubby fingers - in a sparkly bit of pink cloth. Patton fiddled with that until he was content, talking to “Acha” as he arranged the scarf around the dog’s neck and body.

Then, a knock sounded at the door.

“Hrggyph,” Virgil muttered to nothing in particular, and slowly opened an eye. The bit of pale pink material he saw through part of the visible window was definitely not Roman’s, and Logan wouldn’t be caught dead in such a vibrant color.

So who...

Wonder if they’ll go away, Virgil thought tiredly. A few seconds later, however, whoever it was knocked again. Dammit.

He sighed. Slowly, he picked himself up from the couch, and Patton jumped up to grab his arm as he started for the door.

“Is Daddy home?” he asked, grabbing Virgil’s hand in one of his little ones. His dog plush dangled precariously from the other, the pink tip dragging on the floor.

“I don’t think so, buddy,” Virgil said. Patton turned and held up his arms; his father smiled to himself as he picked the boy up. He opened the door.

“Oh, you’re home!” The excited voice belonged to somebody Virgil had seen before, but he wasn’t quite sure who. It was a younger boy, about Roman’s age, with crooked glasses, curly hair the color of rust, and soft brown eyes. He wore a pale pink sweater, black jeans, and a bright smile. Behind him stood another kid, though the last time Virgil saw them, he was pretty sure they’d been a pirate. Now however, they wore wearing a button-up covered in stars, ripped jeans, and converse that had been painted in a familiar style. Over all that, a too-big camo jacket that clashed with everything rested on their shoulder.

“Emile?” Virgil asked at last. “And...Scout?”

“That’s us,” Scout answered with a nod. They nudged Emile, who started and blinked before nodding.

“Right! Uh, Mr. Virgil, I think you remember us from that time we were at your house back on Halloween?” Virgil nodded, and his smile somehow got wider. “Awesome! Um, so...this might be a bit weird, but Roman’s birthday is tomorrow, and we’re...uh, we’re trying to plan something special for him. And he talks about you guys all the time, um...do you think you could help us?”

...forget sleep. Sleep could wait.

“Come on in,” Virgil said. He turned, gently setting Patton down so he could pull out his phone. Scout and Emile quickly knelt down, keeping his son busy as he placed a call to Remy.

“Hey, I need you over here stat,” he said as soon as the barista answered.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing bad, Rem,” Virgil assured. “Um, Emile and Scout are here; they told me Roman’s birthday is tomorrow. We’re gonna need your help.”

Remy’s response was instant.

“Say no more, I’m on my way,” he said. Before Virgil could say anything else, he hung up.

“Who was that?” Scout asked as he put his phone back in his pocket. Virgil chuckled.

“You remember the Dragon Witch on Halloween?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s on his way now. Much better at this stuff than I am.” Virgil checked his watch, hid a yawn, then glanced at the two kids again. “My husband should be back in about an hour from school. He’ll also be more than willing to help. Don’t worry, we’ll get this figured out.”

“Yes!” Emile grinned widely, wiggling in excitement. “We’re gonna make Roman so happy!”

Virgil felt his heart warm as he sat down with the kids to wait, whereupon Patton came over and crawled into his lap. “Where is Roman now?” he asked, helping his son sit up.

“He said he had to help his mom with something,” Scout said. Their voice sounded tense; like they knew what he did - what he knew only because of the horrible nights he’d faced alone, with drunken laughter downstairs and his stomach cringing with hunger. Virgil shook his head violently, and a shiver twirled down his spine. He focused instead on staring at Scout’s shoes. They were black, spots of paint that looked like stars and planets. He bet it was Roman’s work.

Soon enough, someone knocked at the door again.

“The Dragon Witch!” Emile exclaimed, and jumped from his seat. The knock came again, before Remy flung the door open and strode inside with a grin and a wink.

“Well well well,” he said. “I hear there’s a birthday party we need to plan.”

“Hell yeah,” Scout said, and Emile grinned.

“It’s Roman’s birthday tomorrow, and we wanna do something special for him,” he explained. Remy nodded.

“Good. He needs good friends like you,” he said. He looked at Virgil. “I think it’s time to go shopping. We’ll get the supplies…” he glanced at Scout and Emile, “...when you two get out of school tomorrow, I’ll pick you up. We’ll set everything up then for Roman.”

“How will we get him over here?” Virgil asked.

“He’s your babysitter, you tell me.”

“That could work.” Virgil nodded, taking Patton in his arms as he stood up. “Alright, so…”

“We need to divide and conquer,” Remy said. “Decorations and preparation, and gifts.”

“Logan’s very good at that,” Virgil said. “-Decoration, I mean, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to do it for Roman.”

“I’ll text him. Scout, Emile - what do you two want to help with?”

“I’m good at decorations,” Emile said. Scout nodded.

“That he is. And I know what he likes.”

Alright - so Emile, you’ll be with me, then, and Scout will go with Virgil. Sound good to you?”

The two kids nodded.

“Excellent! Let’s get this boy of ours a birthday party!”

---

What the hell was so special about a birthday, anyway? Roman sighed, burying his head in his arms. At the front of the classroom, a history teacher droned on about something he didn’t remember; wouldn’t remember. Recently his mother had gotten a job, somehow, and was now even nastier than usual when she wasn’t drunk. Roman didn’t want to go home; he was tired; and everything ached.

At least...at least, he got to babysit Patton again today. Roman stared at his fingernails; at the chipped edges, and ignored his classmates. The teacher continued to drone. The clock was getting closer to three, but it wasn’t there yet.

Finally, the bell rang.

Roman let out another sigh; he got his backpack and slung it around his shoulder, and started tiredly for the door.

Outside it was frigid, and though his jacket was warm it wasn’t warm enough. He’d forgotten his warmer one. Roman wondered how the puppy was; how Emile was. Briefly, the thought allowed him to smile. Maybe Remy would be at Virgil and Logan’s house, and let him see Prince. That would be nice. He reached up, tracing the embroidered letters with his finger. Prince.

He didn’t feel like a prince.

He couldn’t feel much of his hands or face by the time he came to the street where the Sanders lived, kicking at stones as he passed Mr. D’s house. He saw the older man in the window, staring at him. There was something unsettling about it, that he couldn’t put words to. Roman shivered and continued.

He stopped at the familiar blue door, adjusted his backpack straps, and knocked.

“SURPRISE!” The enthusiastic shout ripped him out of his thoughts with a force that nearly knocked him sideways; as it was Roman jumped, letting out a startled yelp.

“Happy birthday!” Emile and Scout shrieked in unison, sharing excited smiles as they rushed forward to greet him. Roman’s eyes widened, and he found himself laughing as they hugged him - Emile’s gentle touch, and Scout’s bone crushing grip.

“You-you guys knew?” he asked at last, overwhelmed by the streamers and people, and Logan and Virgil smiling at him...and was Remy holding a cake?

“Of course we did!” Scout laughed and punched his shoulder, then grabbed his hand and tugged him inside. “C’mon, you gotta try the cake we made. Well, Emile made it. Either way it’s good.”

Something small and furry ran up to him, barking and wagging its tail.

“PRINCE!” Roman yelped. He dropped to his knees by the puppy’s side, and it leapt into his lap to enthusiastically lick his face. He cradled the pup in his arms, gently running his hands along its soft black and brown fur. Prince was already bigger than it had been when he’d found it, with floppy ears and a goofy smile.

“We think he’s a mutt,” Remy had said. Roman didn’t care - he loved the pup regardless.

“Happy birthday to you…” his eyes widened as the others started singing to him, and he scrambled to his feet with Prince still in his arms--holy shit, he thought. How did they all have such beautiful voices? Logan, the stiff teacher and Virgil...their voices swelled in a perfectly complimenting harmony, leading the group in the song. Remy’s voice followed, a pure tenor; and Emile - though his voice was softer than the others, he sounded just like an angel to Roman.

He tried not to cry but he did, and as the others stopped singing Scout grabbed him in a hug, letting him bury his face in their sweatshirt. There they held him until he was breathing steadily again, and they let go; the others had gathered in the kitchen and smiled at him.

“Hope you’re hungry Roman!” Remy announced, and gestured to the dining room table where several boxes of pizza and tubs of ice cream had been lined up in a neat row. Roman’s jaw dropped, and the others grinned.

“Everybody get your fill; then we’ll meet in the living room. We got a movie ready to play and presents ready to open.”

“Presents!?” Roman blurted, then slapped a hand over his mouth. Virgil chuckled good-naturedly, and even Logan smiled.

“That’s right!” Remy said. “Just for you, my boy!”

“Let’s get pizza!” Emile took Roman’s hand, and he felt himself melting into the other boy’s embrace as he pulled him towards the table. “Look, see? We ordered your favorite!”

“Olive pizza!” Roman’s face broke into an open-mouthed look of amazement, and after gently setting Prince down he reached out and piled several slices onto his plate. Scout and Emile joined him; Remy followed with a wide smile, and Virgil and Logan took up the line in the back. Balloons crowded against each other on the ceiling; their strings dangled down in front of him. Roman looked up, and shades of gold and white and red looked back. He smiled.

“Guess what movie we’re gonna watch?” Emile asked as they sat down. Roman raised an eyebrow at him, unable to contain the happy expression on his face.

“What movie?” he asked. Scout sat down on his other side, yawning and leaning against his shoulder. Emile leaned against his other side, and gave him a look to melt his heart all over again.

“Beauty and the Beast!” he giggled. “Your favorite!”

“How did you-”

“I told him,” Scout said, grinning at the look of dumbfoundment on his face. They took a bite out of their mushroom pizza (ew) as Virgil and Logan entered. They took the other sofa, seating Patton between them with his little slice of cheese pizza. Remy was the last to come in, pepperoni his choice of the evening. He sat down, and Virgil got the remote and started the movie.

It was better than Roman remembered. The colors seemed brighter, and better, and warmer. Maybe that was Scout and Emile, leaning against him as if to chase away the cold that had settled into his bones, or Emile’s laughter that was soft and sweet like bells; like sugar pastries and autumn mornings where the sun’s warmth is gentle on your back. Scout’s, on the other hand, was sharp, like dogs barking in the dead of night and icicles shattering on the sidewalk.

He loved them both.

Roman knew what Scout knew though, that he was hopelessly in love with the Picani boy. He loved everything about him - his soft curls, and big eyes, and round glasses that always sat crookedly on his nose no matter how many times he fiddled with the frames. He loved his smile, and his laugh, and his voice.

And when the other boy leaned against him, and gently reached out to hold his hand...Roman felt like he knew what Heaven was.

Scout glanced at him, chuckled to themself at his happy expression, and turned back towards the TV. Together they watched the story play out, laughing and joking and sharing goofy smiles with each other as they discussed the scenes. They all booed at Gaston, and agreed that the candlestick and clock were very much gay.

And then, all too soon, it was over. The credits rolled and Roman let out a soft sigh, feeling Emile’s chest rise and fall as he breathed - fast asleep against his shoulder. Their paper plates were stacked on the coffee table - the pizza long gone - and Virgil held Patton. The little boy had also fallen asleep, and slept contentedly in his father’s arms.

“I’ll go put him in his room,” Virgil said at last, his voice soft. “Then you can open your presents, Roman.”

The presents! Roman realized, suddenly, that he’d forgotten all about those. Remy noticed the look on his face and laughed, which startled Emile awake. He muttered something under his breath, yawned, and looked up into Roman’s eyes.

God he’s so cute.

Roman smiled at him, and Emile smiled back. Then he reached up, and lightly tapped his nose.

“Boop!” he giggled. Roman felt his face turn an embarrassing shade of red, and he ducked to try and hide it - which would’ve been fine, had Emile’s hand not gotten tangled up in his hair. The next thing he knew they were both doubled over with laughter, and Emile was attempting to squeak out an apology in between gasps for air. When they finally recovered Roman saw Scout, leaning back and shaking their head; they were laughing too, and Remy and Logan shared a look that was both amused and affectionate. Virgil came back into the room, saw the spectacle, and let out a sigh. He too, however, failed to hide a smile as he sat down.

Emile struggled to compose himself with the others, one hand clasping Roman’s shoulder. His glasses looked more crooked than ever; his messy curls tangled and dangling over the rims. Eventually, he pulled himself upright.

“Present time!” he yelped, and burst out laughing again. Roman and Scout joined in, as the adults brought out a small collection of somethings and set it on the floor and coffee table in front of him.

Once he’d finally calmed himself, Roman slid off the couch to kneel in front of his presents. Remy set Prince down and the puppy ran over to join him - his heart felt so warm and full he thought it might burst, looking over the shiny wrapping paper and the kind expressions in Virgil and Logan’s eyes. Gingerly, he reached out and took the first gift.

From Remy, it said. He gently pulled away the red and gold wrapping, and his eyes widened at the colors upon colors upon colors of nail polish he found packed neatly into a black and red nail kit bag. On the top of the bag, his name was embroidered: Roman, in swirling gold type.

“I love it!” he cried, and gently picked up one of the colors - a shimmering beetle green - before putting it back. He couldn’t wait to try it out.

The next present was...well, he knew Scout had tried, at least. Paper wrapping wasn’t exactly their specialty. Nonetheless Roman unwrapped it gently, and hugged the new sketchpad that revealed itself to his chest.

“There’s also some stickers inside for you,” they said - were they nervous? What a strange thought; but Roman couldn’t deny the slight tremble; the tingle of anxiety in their voice. He smiled at them.

“I can’t wait to draw in it,” he said. “This is the perfect size.”

From Logan, read the third gift, tagged neatly with a sharpie. The wrapping paper revealed something soft, and something not - new gloves, in his favorite shade of red, and a book. It claimed to be a fantasy book, and Roman felt tears stinging his eyes as he looked over the cover. He imagined Logan, standing in the fantasy section of a bookstore, with no idea of what any of the books contained.

“This one was rated very highly,” Logan explained matter-of-factly. “I do...hope that you enjoy it.”

“Thank you,” Roman said softly, trying to blink away the tears. The gloves and book he gently set aside - somehow, Logan must have realized that his old ones were worn.

Two presents remained. He picked up one of them; From Virgil, it said. The paper presented a box when he pulled it away; inside the box was a soft puppy plush that was black and brown just like Prince, with a red bandana around its neck. The word Prince was hastily stitched onto it in yellow, and as he looked up at Virgil the father glanced aside.

“I...I’m sorry you can’t keep the real one,” was all he said, in a terribly soft voice. There were tears in his eyes too, Roman realized. “I hope this helps.”

“It...it does,” he said. He hugged the plush dog close, and sniffled; with his other hand he gently petted the real dog. “Thank you, Virgil.”

“Of course.”

The last present was Emile’s. Roman hesitantly reached for it; he felt Emile tense as he pulled the paper away - it was a beanie. A soft one, with stripes of blue, yellow, and pink. Roman’s eyes widened, and he looked abruptly up at Emile.

“You...you made this?” he asked softly.

“Yeah. I hope it’s okay? I tried to make it as close to your flag as possible, and I-” he was cut off as Roman crashed into him, wrapping his arms around the other boy’s shoulders and hugging him tightly.

“I love it,” he whispered, and now he really was crying. “Thank you...thank you all so much.”

He felt the warmth of another body beside him, and Roman opened one eye to see that Scout had joined the hug. Then Remy came over, followed by Virgil, and soon even Logan joined the group. Though Roman sort of expected it to be awkward...it felt really nice, surrounded by everybody he loved and who loved him in return. He felt himself smile

Thank you guys, for the best birthday ever.

#analogical #logan sanders #virgil sanders #emile picani #roman sanders #remy sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #sunshine and storm clouds #sunshine and stormclouds

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