#cannot wait to give him a fucking heart attack standing in the procession line

[ndntighnari]

I have. 3 cats. None of them are therapy animals. I believe i may have to look into a therapy animal after the past week

#no joke i have been the only fucking person in my family functioning #even tho im the youngest and also essentially lost the equivalent to a third parent #like my dad and other uncle have been dealing w the funeral shit #but when it comes to daily functioning and supporting others? #i am one of like. 3 people #the other 2 arent directly involved either #whereas i am #again. my 21 year old ass who just lost the equivalent of their third parent #supporting my 48 year old mother and 61 year old father #while also beating back an ex family friend who keeps accusing my mother of being the catalyst #and preparing to bring a baseball bat to the funeral to chase my bio grandfather off the premises #bc despite everyone telling him not to come #he intends to. #my uncle hated that mans guts #my dad cant stand him either #cannot wait to give him a fucking heart attack standing in the procession line #bc ill be real im decking out bc my uncle loved seeing me happy and enjoying my own style

[365days365movies]

March 21, 2021: Orlando (1992)

Tilda Swinton...confuses me.

Like, in a good way. Because Tilda may be the most versatile actor working today. I mean, look at the goddamn filmography, and you’ll see what I’ve mean. I’ve seen Tilda Swinton in a lot, surprisingly, and I don’t think anything I’ve seen was bad. For example, I am an ARDENT defender in the portrayal of the Ancient One in the MCU.

I understand the controversy here, but I actually think this is excellent casting. Especially considering...being comic book-accurate would NOT have been a good idea with this role, if we’re trying to AVOID controversy. But Tilda Swinton FUCKING KILLED IT in this role, and I will always be happy for this choice.

Let’s see, there’s Jadis in the Narnia films, as shown at the top, there’s Snowpiercer, as Mason (an amazing character, and an acting job that Swinton disappears into), Moonrise Kingdom as Social Services, The Grand Budapest Hotel as Madame D., and Gabriel in Constantine. Which is a good segue to the next talking point...

Gabriel is pointedly androgynous, and honestly, Tilda Swinton kind of is as well. You may have noticed that I haven’t used any pronouns in referencing to Tilda Swinton, entirely out of respect. Gonna be a little hard to keep up with, so I’ll be using she/her from here on out, only because those are the pronouns that Swinton’s most recently promoted for herself. She’s also referred to herself as queer of some variety, as well as being famously gender non-conforming.

Which is fitting, given that a lot of that public image began with today’s movie, one of her first big roles. I’ll be revisiting Swinton in the independent movie scene in a couple of months, but this may be a good introduction. Instead of spoiling anything off the bat, I’m gonna jump right in. And so, I present: Orlando. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We begin with a young man named, well, Orlando (Tilda Swinton), a young man with a feminine appearance and a good upbringing. His name means power land and property, but all he really wants is company. He writes and rests by a tree in the day, but falls asleep by mistake. When he wakes up, he runs back to where he’s meant to be, with a tribute to Queen Elizabeth I (Quentin Crisp) playing in the background. And that’s a REAL song, by the way, actually sung in the 1600s for Elizabeth! Very neat.

A title screen flashes, reading “1600: Death”, and we see where Orlando is meant to be. He speaks poetry for the Queen and her court, but is interrupted by the aged queen, who asks whether or not his poem is appropriate for her presence, as the poem is about youth, and Queen Elizabeth is not that. Orlando’s father (John Bott), who is serving as host to Elizabeth, intervenes on his behalf. However, it doesn’t seem to matter to the Queen, as she invites Orlando back to England to serve as her “favourite”. He accepts, and soon lives alongside the Queen. She quickly promises Orlando much land and property, for him and his heirs, but on one condition: that he does not fade, wither, or grow old. 

The same wish cannot be applied to Elizabeth herself, nor to his father, as both grow old and die soon afterwards. Fast forward 10 years, and it’s a cold winter in England. Visiting Orlando’s vast estate is a woman from Russia, named Sasha (Charlotte Valandrey), and Orlando quickly falls for her. This is to the dismay of Euphrosne (Anna Healy), his fiancée? I’m not sure, to be honest, but they’re definitely involved, and she’s definitely upset.

However, this is also a scandal for everybody else as well, not just because Orlando’s already engaged, but also because Sasha is Russian, during a particularly poor economic period for the country. Euphrosne angrily throws his ring back at him, and Orlando speaks directly to the audience, telling us that a man must follow his heart. The two go to his private cottage, and they start to make out, when Orlando suddenly comes down with intense melancholy.

Because this is such great happiness that he feels, but this happiness too will one day end. Which is, like, the most emo-shit I’ve ever heard, but I’m kinda here for it. And yet, that happiness does indeed end, when Sasha is forced to return to Russia, despite Orlando’s pleading for her to stay. He asks her to meet him at London Bridge, so that they may elope together.

Later, Orlando happens upon a performance of Othello, noting to us that it’s a terrific play. This is as the death of Othello is being played out, so that’s probably foreshadowing, right? Anyway, Orlando leads two horses through the thick fog, waiting for Sasha to arrive and come away with him. But as a storm sets in, there is no sign of Sasha. And Orlando stands there in the rain. Said rain, though, soon becomes ice, underneath his feet, floating away down the river, along with his hopes of a happy future with Sasha. The treachery of women, according to Orlando.

Over the next week, Orlando languishes in his bed, asleep for the entire time. Increasingly more servants are brought up to try and rouse him, only for him to remain asleep, no matter what they do. But then, he wakes up, noting that he can only conjure three words to describe women, none of them worth explaining.

Forty years later, and the title screen cries “Poetry”! And Orlando looks exactly the same. Guess he really took that whole “don’t grow old” thing from Elizabeth to heart, huh? He speaks to a poet, Nick Greene (Heathcote Williams), and gushes about his poetry, which is a pursuit that he loves greatly. But Nick is...well, Nick is kind of a dick, to be honest. Orlando wants only to share his love and his poetry with him, but Nick’s only in it for the money. Not a true artist, and he mocks Orlando’s poetry, which he reads only after Orlando offers him money. And then, he writes a poem mocking Orlando further, which angers Orlando...but doesn’t stop the money flowing to Nick.

Orlando moves onto his next pursuit, in 1700, in the next section: Politics. Now over 100 years old, Orlando becomes an ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, and travels to Constantinople. There, he receives a somewhat rough and awkward greeting, which Orlando is not helping with. They share some Turkish coffee, Orlando has trouble drinking that Turkish coffee, they drink a LOT of Turkish coffee, and they toast to multiple things, including the “beauty of women, and the joys of love.” Orlando pauses at this, and reveals that he is still suffering quite a bit of heartbreak. His Turkish friend, the Khan (Lothaire Bluteau), bonds with him about this.

After 10 years, Orlando has fully retreated into life as a Turkish man. This is interrupted by a British emissary, sent to bring him news of a new appointment and power from the Queen. However, something goes wrong when the Khan arrives and takes Orlando hostage. The city is under attack, and the Khan asks Orlando if he will help against their enemies. Orlando agrees, and gives them arms, and heads to help himself at the walls. There, he witnesses a man dying, and it shakes him greatly. And just like before, he sleeps it off for seven days. And then...she wakes up.

YUP. WHAT.

Yeah, um, Orlando is now a woman. Like she says: “Same person, just a different sex.” Which is a very interesting premise, not gonna lie. Looks like Orlando now has to live life as a woman, which is going to be...difficult in 1700s Turkey. Or England. Or anywhere. Or any time.

Still, Orlando approaches this new life with aplomb, and without really any needed caution. Parading in some awesome dresses, she greets fellow nobility as the lady Orlando. However, the emissary from earlier, Archduke Harry (John Wood), begins to recognize her as similar to the lord Orlando.

In speaking with a group of poets, however, Orlando learns EXACTLY what men think of women in this society, and it’s not even a little bit good. She leaves, enraged and embarrassed. Harry also speaks with her, assuming that she was a woman all along. However, Orlando’s in EVEN MORE shit, as she’s quickly served with papers that are an attempt to take away all of her property and titles, because Lord Orlando is legally dead, and Lady Orlando is a woman, which one of them says is basically the same thing. FUCKIN’ YIKES, BRUV.

Ah, but Harry tries to help by proposing to her ON THE FUCKIN’ SPOT. He believed that Orlando was perfect as both genders, and is happy to do it. However, Orlando understandably refuses, and after Harry tells her that she will die as a spinster, alone and dispossessed, she runs into a nearby hedge maze. And while in the hedge maze, time passes, and her outfit changes to match the period accordingly.

Forward 140 years now! The year is 1850, and a new chapter begins: Sex.

And as she runs from the maze, she runs into who else...but Shelmerdine (Billy Zane), a man who...Shelmerdine? SHELMERDINE? What fuckin’ witch cursed his entirely family line to have THAT name? That’s the kind of family that was named AFTER a bridge, not the other way around! WHAT KINDA NAME IS FUCKIN’ SHELMERDINE?

Well, I’ve looked it up now, and it is apparently a real name. So, if any Shelmerdines are reading this...I mean, I’m sorry, but also, FUCKIN’ SHELMERDINE? OK, back to Shelmerdine. He’s twisted his ankle falling off his horse, and Orlando is now taking care of him. She reveals, in the process, that she’s about to lose everything. The reasons for that aren’t quite said, but Shelmerdine offers a place at his side, back to the great free land of America.

After having a conversation about the roles of men and women in the world (which is interesting given the context of the film in general), the two fulfill the chapter’s imperative. And we never see the act, but we do get some interesting angles and hand-holding. But the next morning, this post-coital reverie is interrupted by the lawyers from the Queen. The lawsuits have been settled, and Orlando has been legally declared a woman, meaning that unless she has a son, all of her possessions will be lost.

Shelmerdine (I swear, every time I say that name, a fairy gets chlamydia) leaves as well, with the southwest wind. As he heads back to America to fight for freedom, Orlando stands in the rain, facing an uncertain future, and broken fully by the politics of the time period.

And then...the sound of planes overhead. Looks like a new time period once again, heading into the periods of World Wars, and Orlando is now...heavily pregnant. OH. FUCK. Welcome to the next chapter: Birth.

We jump past the period of World War II, and to the 1990s! Orlando is presenting a book to a publisher, and he believes that the book will sell. With her young daughter in tow, she finally goes back to her old mansion, now finally able to go back after losing it 100 years prior. The narration from the beginning repeats, recontextualized for Orlando’s new life. She is over 400 years old, and finally, FINALLY...she is happy.

And that’s Orlando! I think I loved it. Real talk, this was a fascinating movie, and I’m into it. I’m very much into it. I’m sure there’s more to be gleaned from this film, but I’m glad I watched it regardless. More in the Review, though! See you there!

#orlando #orlando 1992 #sally potter #tilda swinton #billy zane #lothaire bluteau #john wood #virginia woolf #orlando film #fantasy march #user365 #365 movie challenge #365days365movies #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #mygifs #my gifs

[starboyten]

barriers - kj.w

jungwoo x reader feat. johnny

genre: fluff, humor

length: 2,008 words

warnings: like 2 curse words

a/n: italicized words will be dialogue in korean! also sorry if this kinda sucks lol

———————————————————————

You were irritated -- no, that’s not the word you’re looking for. You were frustrated, there it is, at this very moment. Well, actually, you’ve been pretty frustrated for the past couple of months now. All because of a stupid, adorable boy named Kim Jungwoo. There he was in the middle of the gymnasium, fooling around with puckered lips while the other members of NCT 127 try to avoid his advances on them. They were supposed to be practicing for their upcoming concert, but instead were running around chasing each other like kids on a playground. Your eyes trailed Jungwoo, chuckling as he engulfs Mark in a bear hug, the younger yelling in protest. You watched as Jungwoo’s lips smushed against Mark’s hands as Mark shoved him away, a whine leaving them in the process. His lips formed into a frown, and you felt yourself staring at them before a lumbering oaf, or so you called him, scared you shitless. 

“Whatcha starin’ at?” 

“Jesus Christ, Seo!” you exclaimed, clutching your chest as he pops into your line of vision. “You almost gave me a goddamn heart attack.”

He laughs and sits down on the ground next to you, stretching out his legs. He was probably exhausted from rehearsal, surprisingly opting out of being childish like the rest of his members.

Johnny was your best friend. Other than Mark and Jaehyun, he was the only one who could hold an actual intellectual conversation in English, because that’s the only language you could speak to them in.

You had met Johnny through a mutual friend. You were studying abroad in Korea and found out your roommate was interning for SM. She invited you to one of the company parties and that’s how you met him. The stupid boy whom you developed a crush on but could never talk to. If only you knew how to speak Korean, this wouldn’t be a problem. That was months ago, and to this day it’s still torturing you. 

“It looks like something’s on your mind. What’s eating you?” Johnny questioned, cocking his head to the side to look at your face.

“It’s nothing,” you said, looking down at your feet.

“Hey,” Johnny said. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” You looked at him and nodded. You were about to spill it all to the boy when the choreographer called for him. “Tell me later,” he said. “Promise?” Outstretching his long pinky to you. You smiled, interlocking your pinky with his.

-

You stand outside the door to Johnny’s room, foot tapping nervously. Knocking twice, you hear loud footsteps before the door opens, revealing Johnny in his pajamas, fresh with a facemask on.

“So what’s up?”

You sit down on his bed, peering over to Haechan, Johnny’s current roommate, passed out cold. Johnny notices and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry, even if he was awake he’d be clueless.” You let out a sigh. 

“So I have a… predicament.”

“Hit me.”

You look down at the floor and pray to god Johnny can keep this secret for once in his life. Last time you told him a secret of yours he “accidentally” ended up telling Haechan, who, of course, just had to tell the rest of NCT Dream.

“Okay but you have to keep this a secret, Johnny, or else I’ll murder you. I was this close to ending your life after you “accidentally” told Haechan I peed the bed laughing too hard,” you glare, pinching your fingers close together. 

“You can’t muder me, you love me too much. Plus that was really funny I couldn’t not tell at least someone.”

You raise your hand threateningly at him and he just laughs and holds his hands up in defense. Sighing, you look down at your feet and let it spill past your lips. 

“I like Jungwoo.”

Johnny blinks, trying to comprehend your words. He shifts in his spot, sitting up so he’s cross-legged on the bed.

“Like, like as in you enjoy his presence or like as in you have a crush on him?”

You laugh at Johnny’s obliviousness. Shaking your head, you shove him.

“You’re so dense, Seo. I have a crush on him, stupid.”

Johnny’s mouth forms into an ‘o’ shape, nodding his head as he finally understands. He peels off the mask from his face and tosses it into the waste bin under your desk.

“And you’re upset about this because?”

“I wanna talk to him, Johnny. But I can’t speak Korean, obviously, and he only speaks a little broken English. You see my predicament now?”

He slowly nods, eyes looking up and away as if he’s thinking of what to do. 

“And I can’t exactly devote my time to fully study the language, as much as I would love to, I have school to focus on! I only know enough to get me around the city and to survive during my time here.” 

Johnny hums before shooting off the bed and onto his feet, fists in the air.

“I’ve got it!”

“Got what?” you question.

“The answer to your problem,” he grins. You raise an eyebrow incredulously at him, not convinced. 

“What genius plan have you concocted now?”

“Okay so,” he starts, sitting down on the bed and crossing his legs. “I, your best friend and the greatest and handsomest person in the world--”

“The point, Johnny.”

“Anyways….” Johnny begins. “I can act as your translator! You just tell me what to say and I’ll tell him.”

“Even if he, for some miraculous reason, liked me back, I couldn’t date him anyways. Your company would get pissed. And he wouldn’t even have time for a relationship.”

You continue to ramble on before Johnny shuts you up by placing his entire hand over your face. 

“You’re such a pessimist. It won’t work out with that attitude.” You pout up at him before sighing in defeat.

“Fine.”

“Perfect!” Johnny says standing up and striding towards the door. “You have two days to come up with something to say. Good night!”

“WHAT!” you shout as Johnny closes the door. You stare at the wall, collecting your thoughts. Shit, you’re in trouble.

-

Two days stressfully go by as you try to write down all of your thoughts onto paper to say to Jungwoo. 

“You absolutely cannot fuck this up,” you whisper to yourself as you wait for 127 to gather in the gymnsium again.

“You got this!” your roommate yells from her station. She sends you a thumbs up and you send her a weak smile in return. You’re shaking, and you continue to curse at yourself when you see the ink on your paper smudging form the sweat on your hands. 

You watch as 127 arrives one-by-one, nervously waiting for Johnny to arrive. As soon as you see him, you wave him over. He stands over you, hands on his hips.

“Well?” You shove the piece of paper in his hands. He gives it a quick look-over before covering his mouth and laughing.

“What?” you panic. “Is it too much?”

“No, it’s cute,” he chuckles. “I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“Shut up!” you punch his arm and pout. “I’m nervous, okay?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Johnny reassures you. You look past him to see the other members tiredly stretching, your eyes immediately landing on Jungwoo. You see him try to touch his toes, his sweatshirt bunching up around his waist, and you feel a fresh layer of sweat coat your skin.

“When are we doing this?”

“I’m going to try to get him in a better mood first,” Johnny says. “We’re all a bit tired right now.”

“Johnny, I'm about to go into cardiac arrest, don't make me wait too much longer.”

“Hey,” he says, putting his hand on your shoulder. “Just relax, this is gonna go fine.”

“How do you know that?” you question, but Johnny just gives you a smirk and runs off to join the other members before you can pry an answer out of him. 

Crouching down, you keep your eyes glued to the ground, counting down the seconds before you have to face your crush. 

- 

You’re almost dozing off by the time you hear footsteps approaching. Blinking and looking up, you’re met with two giant men standing over you, one being your best friend and the other being the person you like. It’s almost comical, the speed to which you get onto your feet. 

“Hi,” you gulp, trying to make eye contact with Jungwoo. You hope your face isn’t as red as it feels. 

“Hi!” Jungwoo replies cheerfully and you want to curl up into a ball and roll away far from where you are. 

“Y/n has something she wants you to read,” Johnny says. “Isn’t that right?” He looks directly at you, eyeing the paper in your hands.

“Oh!” you fluster, realizing what he means. “Yes.” You shove the piece of paper out towards Jungwoo, who looks taken aback. He takes it and looks at it before looking at Johnny, unsure of what to do.

“What is this?” Jungwoo questions.

“Just listen,” Johnny responds. 

You watch nervously as Jungwoo’s and Johnny’s eyes read over the paper. Johnny begins to read aloud. 

“I don’t really know how to begin this so I’ll just get straight to the point. I like you. But not in a fan like type of way. I mean in an ‘I want to be there for you all the time when you go through hardships and hold you when you cry. The person you go to when you need comfort. The person you stay up with watching dramas with until 2 in the morning. The person who gets to hug you everyday and calls you theirs.’”

You watch Jungwoo’s facial expressions while Johnny’s reading. His eyes are wide and you can’t tell if he’s shocked or panicking. You definitely are panicking.

“‘I understand if you don’t feel the same way because we’ve never really talked other than casual interactions but I just needed to let you know because I’ve been thinking too much about it lately and it’s causing me great amounts of stress keeping it to myself.’”

By the time Johnny finishes reading, Jungwoo’s face is beet red. You can’t tell if it’s a good or bad reaction and your insides feel like applesauce. 

“Now it’s Jungwoo’s turn,” Johnny says with a big grin. 

“W-What?” you question, looking at Johnny, your eyes saucers.

“Just listen. Go ahead.” He nods to Jungwoo and you watch as Jungwoo pulls a paper out of his pants pocket. Johnny clears his throat and reads.

“We’ve never really talked formally but I wanted to ask if you wanted to get food with me sometime and watch a movie together in the dorms? I think you’re very pretty and want to spend more time with you. I don’t have the guts to tell you this myself and my english isn’t that great so I’m having Johnny read this to you.”

You think your soul has left your body. He likes you back? Has Johnny been keeping this from you??

“So I’ll leave you two to it!” Johnny says before dashing off to the others. 

You stare at the floor in full disbelief. You don’t know where to look. After about 10 seconds of silence you muster up the ounce of courage in your body and look at Jungwoo. He mirrors your stance, eyes avoiding yours. Once you look at him though, he offers a small smile at you. 

“So...?” He says shyly. “Do you...?

You blink at him before realizing what he’s asking you.

“Oh! Yes!” Jungwoo gives you a toothy grin.

“Good!” he says before someone calls his name. You give him a shy wave as he runs back to join the rest of the group.

“So, how’d it go?” your roommate asks you as you plop down next to her. You hide your face in your hands, trying to contain the squeal that was threatening to erupt from you.

“Better than I could've ever imagined.”

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #jungwoo #kim jungwoo #nct jungwoo #nct 127 jungwoo #jungwoo fanfic #jungwoo fic #jungwoo fluff #jungwoo scenarios #jungwoo soft hours #jungwoo timestamp #jungwoo imagines #jungwoo imagine #jungwoo x reader #nct fic #nct fics #nct fanfic #nct fanfiction #nct fluff #nct 127 fanfic #nct imagines #nct imagine #nct soft hours #jungwoo blurbs #nct blurbs #nct blurb #kpop

[l-a-scarlett]

☆Love At Second Chance

° • ☆ Intro☆ • °

° • ♡ Miyuki Kazuya ♡ • °

Maybe When we're ready We will meet again - K. Azizian

A few spoiler alerts Actually. Maybe none 😂

You almost forgot when was the last time you set foot on a baseball stadium, it was awfully hot. But you have to admit it to yourself, you miss this.

You sat on your seat, one which was the first row of seat at the bottom, near the dugout and near the foul area, and are fully aware that you are exposed to flying foul balls. You knew that some players dive just to get the ball, even if it was flying on the audience seat, as long as they can reach it, which is they can, they will go for it.

They are Pros representing their country after all.

You came half an hour early, not because you want to grab a perfect spot to sit in but for you will have enough time to think if you're really doing this or not. After all this years you've been avoiding baseball at all cause because of him, after all this years you still don't have the guts to face him.

You stand up, ready to leave. Faced by the fact that you've got a large and heavy bag, you frown, adjusting the bag strap on your shoulder as you hold on into it. You get to recall what you put there before you leave, that is when you remember your older brother told you to bring your old baseball gloves.

The one you used to use in high school to play catch with him during your free time, then his cheeky grin flash into you, making you fall back into your seat in defeat. If there is one thing to convince yourself you've moved on from him, that would be watching this match, and you're doing this.

In the end, you left your bag in the seat, you knew and memorize it anyways, you've gone on this stadium many times during your high school as you watch him play his games, and it was as if your senses are still familiar with stadium, you don't even want to admit it to yourself.

You went out to get yourself some snack, you've also manage to spot some friends outside, some of them being your high school friends during your time at Seidou, it was fun meeting them but as soon as the game was about to start, you all headed back inside the stadium and go back to your seats. You can barely made it back to your seat since most of the people was already in there respective seats and yours was in the middle of the row.

"And now, entering the field is Japan Baseball Team"

You look up as you are currently trying to fish your gloves out of your bag.

There, you saw the guy you broke up with 6 years ago. He was still using his sports glasses though you could tell that he was still wearing his contacts. It was his thing whenever he was playing. His hair was always been the same, though it looked a little bit shorter now, it does look the same as has always been, it was still messy and windswept. As you can see, he was far taller than you last saw him, far more built that he was on his high school days.

You're say to say he is not the same guy you used to date during your high school days.

But he always looked hot wearing that catcher uniform. 

But of course, you're not the only one who think of that, you look around you, watching some woman and girls cried out his name.

And you hate to admit that your heart ached every time you set your eyes on his figure, how he smile and waved at different direction once in a while during their warm up.

For the last time, your eyes landed on his figure.

They said that one of the best feeling was when you look at him, and he was already staring at you.

But all you ever did was to look away, your heart hammering painfully on your chest, you look at the mitt on your lap, for a moment, you wonder.

Why haven't you thrown his thing away?

You asked yourself, hoping to find an answer, but as you go deep in your thoughts, the more you don't wanna know. 

You're fucked up, you knew that for the fact that you never stopped loving that guy the moment you saw him again, there is something T.V screen cannot give you, there is something your dreams cannot give you. It was just seeing him again in person gives you a different feelings whenever you saw him in the T.V or in your dreams. It was real, this is reality that you have to face. That he was standing there, in the field playing for his country. He was so close yet so far away, it has always been like that.

Another cheer coming from his fans snap you out of your rain of thoughts as you watch both team line up, bidding good game and good luck to each other.

You watch the game unfold around you, the way he perfectly caught the ball with his mitt, the way he throw the ball like an arrow, the way he call for the next throws, how well calculated he call for them, it must be fun having him as a catcher. 

There he was, enjoying his life. Living his dreams like you expect him to be, as Professional Baseball Player you always want him to be. Somehow, you felt shame within yourself watching him, to think that that we was near yet out of reach. He was totally out of your reach now, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you give, you knew, you will never be good enough for him. Not now, not yesterday, never in the past, never will you ever be worthy enough for him.

"Watch out!"

That put you on alert, making you blink to look at the guy who seems to be heading on your seat.

Why?

You look up in thought, eyes widening as you saw a ball slowly flying on your way.

Your eyes widen, suddenly aware that a foul ball was about to hit you, without thinking, your body move on its own, putting your gloves on, hands and arm on the position for a catch, the way Miyuki Kazuya used to teach you. You closed your eyes and waited for the impact.

 "And there she caught it!"

You open your eyes and gasp, the announcer was right.

"I caught it!"

You laugh to yourself, but then you stop when you realize.

Alexander Smith, the one of the most handsome baseball player you've known from your country's baseball team, you've only seen him a couple of teams in the T.V but somehow you found him very attractive, almost attractive as your megane ex. He was a brunette and has a deep brown eyes, and now that you come to think about it.

He does looks like your ex.

"Hi! Are you okay?"

Alexander, the right fielder ask you.

You blink and chuckle nervously

"Ye-yeah. sorry' bout that. I supposed you're supposed to catch these?"

You asked him, showing him your mitt that has the ball.

"Oh not really, I couldn't made it in time. Anyways, nice catch, you can have it"

He said, shooting you a cheeky grin before heading back to his position.

You blink, surprised by the sudden interaction. 

Suddenly some people are looking on your way, making you embarrassed and flustered at the same time. But you put your attention back in the game, and as much to your surprise the Japan was leading a 1 run, but it is now your country turn to make some runs, at first it was a strike out, the second guy manage to make it into the 2nd base, it was until it was Alexander turn to bat, you seems pretty hyped at his turn.

At the same time, you are putting your mitt with the ball back into your back pack. Nothing seems wrong, until for the second time, someone shouted "Watch out" into you, making you look up. but it was too late for you already put your mitt back into your bag, "Move!" someone said, and you did as you are told, you move out of your seat, then seconds later. A man dive it, catching it into the processes.

"Woah!"

You said in a gasp as you over your mouth in shock.

"Now. That. Was. Cool!"

You claimed, helping the player get back on his feet.

"Did you get it?"

You asked, looking at his face.

"Yeah"

He looked back at you.

"You seems familiar"

You both said at the same time,

"(Last name)(First Name)"

"Kuramochi Yõichi" 

You blink at each other.

But before the two of you get to talk to each other, somebody brought you two back in the game, calling out for him to get back in the game, even strange since you knew he was the short stop, how the hell did he manage to chase after the ball? It doesn't make sense but you knew it was because of his legs, you guys didn't tease him cheetah for nothing.

The game was intense, you have to admit that, they the end of the 5th inning, both teams were on tie, 4-4 and it was (country name) turns to attack, it was quite intense at the moment, only if it isn't for you ringing phone. You put your bag back into your lap, before opening it, looking for your phone, looking down as you basically go through your bag searching for the thing.

"Watch out!"

You frown, looking up to the person beside you.

"What now?! Do I look like a target or something?"

You hiss, going back to search for your phone in your bag.

As soon as you look up, something hit your head. 

"What the fuck"

You scowl, hands going on where it hits you. And suddenly, your world was spinning. You took a hold of the seat, trying to balance yourself.

"Hey, dear. Are you okay?"

It was still blurry, your head was falling as someone take a hold of your cheeks.

"Hey. Hey"

You frown,

"I swear... I'll never watch baseball.. again"

Then everything went black.

You and Miyuki Kazuya was never really found of each other, it started when you first met him during your first year in Seidou, despite his arrogant ass, he always seems to out smart that and getting always on your nerve, when the first sem was up, you are pretty sure you hate him despite having a crush on him because of his pretty face. Due to him being your classmate, you end up switching seats with your other classmate, like Kuramochi, just to get away with Miyuki's teasing. Like said, you are pretty sure you hate him, and like wise to him as you always get on each others nerve. It wasn't until you saw him, in the diamond that one time you are strolling around the campus. 

There you saw him, sweaty, dirt all over him, and he really look hot on his catcher uniform, you knew he was part of a team, but you never really know it was baseball. Soon, you found yourself on the field, watching him in his catcher uniform. It wasn't so long when he notice you watching him, or their games. Their was some times where you two end up having an eye contact, and never once did he ever failed you to look away first. He just notice you there, watching. You never really thought he would bring that up. Not until you sat their beside him, since Kuramochi didn't agree to switch seats with you, you just sat there, casually sipping on your juice when he face you on his chair, not like you give a damn and he was looking at you and said.

"Were you watching me?"

He said, making you choke on your drink before throwing him a disgusting look as you cover your mouth as you cough. 

"You dreaming?!... Why would I ever watch you?"

"oh really? because I'm pretty sure you have your eyes on me whenever I played on the field"

He said, shooting you a cocky grin, and before you could even hit him, the teacher came.

The next thing you knew, your coming to his practice games, even talking to him during breaks, and at some time giving him a middle finger every time he mock mock you when he was at the field. You don't know where it started, but the two of you grew close ever since that conversation happened, getting use on his arrogant remarks, and you realize, despite his bad persona, he was a good person. You didn't know when did you start waiting for him after practice, nor did you realize he was walking you after practice just to make you're safe when you've gone home. You don't know how it started seriously. The next thing you know you're falling hard for him. To the point where you even joined the team as a manager despite having two already, not like they don't want anyways. You guys seems to be often getting tease like 'You bicker like an old couple, get a room already'. At some times, you help him with academic stuffs and he often helps you with math, specially in calculation, since that was the only thing beside baseball he was good at. And sometimes in return, you often play catch him with during both of your free time, but of course, not without throwing an insult here and there to each other that leads to you throwing the ball on his face in which he catches so easily. That's why being a tease you are, the up coming valentines that year, you gave him chocolates, despite knowing he didn't like sweets you have the guts to confess.

"Here"

You toss your home made chocolates into him, it was your break after playing some catch.

"What is this?"

He said, inspecting the white box, and not like you put some effort decorating it, you just taped the sides.

"Chocolate. Duh? Happy Hearts Day Miyuki"

You shrug sarcastic, rolling your eyes at the process.

He frown at you,

"I don't like sweets, (Annoying nick name)"

As he was about to toss back the sweets into you, you help up a hand.

"Toss it back to me, You reject me. Eat it, You accept my confession. And if you choose the first one, just feel free to give it away. I don't care"

You shrug once again before turning around, biting your lips as you don't want to see his answer.

"When did you confess to me?"

He sounds so confused it actually made you laugh and turn around to see his face.

He was frowning when you turn around, 

"Right now asshole. I like you"

you hiss at him, and despite your tone, you are smiling at him.

"Well shit"

Out of 100% you knew that the percentage of the great Miyuki Kazuya liking you back was at least 25% out of 100%. He doesn't seems like the one for a relationship anyways, it feels like baseball always come first to him. That's why you gasp when he opened the box of chocolate, ripping the tapes on the sides, grabbing one piece then look at you.

"Be lucky I like you too"

Before putting into his mouth, his face seems to be frowning the first few seconds, before it soften, looking at you.

"Yeah. That's dark chocolate"

You smile at him.

"You don't like sweets after all"

Lets just say, during the White Day, he gave you a flower in return, your least favorite flowers of course. But it means he really is paying attention to what you are saying to him, there was that one time you talked about flower, and you only said it once that you like and dislike this kind of flower, and to tease you in return for giving him a sweets even though it was never really that sweet, he gave you your least favorite flower.

By the time of your second year, things are getting busier than ever, new players, the upper-class retiring, things are busier as expected, you almost facepalm when you realize your boyfriend was late on his first day as second year. He was too careless you knew that arrogant ass, and you almost felt bad for Sawamura, getting entangled with your boyfriends game.

"Karma's a bitch"

You said as you hand your boyfriend a drink after his punishment.

He only roll his eyes at you. It doesn't mean that you two are in a relationship does it means that the two of you have gone on a relationship does it means that you two have gone lovey dovey, it was quite the same while you are still friends, you knew that Miyuki Kazuya was a busy person, you knew that dating a baseball player was quite a risk because, they almost never put you first unless you're a baseball. But you knew that, you knew that you could never go on a peaceful date or a decent date with him, he was always on practice, and of course you knew that, you are one of the managers, of course you know that.

You did your very best to support the team, you watch them in the stand, together with the other players that didn't make it into the first string, you watch them, especially the first year cried as they lost the tickets to Koshien to Inashiro. This means the high school baseball career of the third year ends here. You cried just like the others, you insist on riding with the first string on the way back to school. You sit beside him at the bus. You want to tell him something, but nothing came out of your mouth, nor did he say something, all you ever did was to hold his hand, telling him.

I'm here.

It didn't took so long for the news to come out, he was the new Captain, and you couldn't be any more prouder to him as the Captain's girlfriend. As always, you did what you think that could help the team. You could tell it was hard for him at first, you knew you had tell him, help him to adjust, you did what you had to do, you stay by his side and support him. You tell him to say something to Nori, you tell him to talk to him. You tell him what you could possibly advice him. 

By the time of the fall tournament during your second year, while he was being the representative of the fall tournament, You think all the captains are, you waited for him outside, as you are asked from him to come with you. That was the first time you ever saw him jealous, it was quite fantastic, the way he glare at the guy who was talking to you out of comfort as he tries to make a move in which you totally try to push away. That was the first time you ever see him so serious, no playful smirk on his face, just a serious glare, with his arms around you. 

As the Fall tournament goes on, here and there you can see girls fan girling over your boyfriend, it was quite an ego boost, you can see the envy stares of your fellow school mates on you, the harsh stares you've gotten ever since you two become a couple are getting more and more frightening as each month pass by, but it doesn't really matter as long as you stay by his side.  

Second year Fall tournament, Semi Finals, you stood up on your seat. Looking alert and panic written all over your face as you watch your boyfriend with some player who was trying to force his home run, but you knew it, he was already out since your boyfriend was the ball on his mitt.

"What the fuck is he doing?!"

The first thing you ever did was after the game was to check on your boy friend as soon as you go back to the school. He told you he was fine, that he isn't injured at all, but you should see the discomfort on his face whenever he try to stretch his arms and something.

"Kazu--"

"Don't tell anyone"

"Kazuya."

"(Nick name)  Please"

He pleased you.

"Be lucky I love you"

"I love you too"

So right after the finals, you went after him. As much as you wanted to joined them on going to the hospital, Miyuki Kazuya was already with Rei-san, Kiramochi and Zono, so you did your best to get into the hospital. In the end you scold him for being so careless to himself, he was pretty annoyed to you, but when he look up, he met your crying figure, eyes full of worry. He apologize. His injury was stated as "pulled side abdominal". He wasn't allowed later on to play at the Jingu tournament given the doctor's advice of a three-week recovery period. Within that time, all he did was to look after the team and specifically comment on the sense of unity of the pitchers, other than that he use that as a time to spend with you. It was one of those peaceful night after practice.

"Hey, Kazuyaaa"

You look at him as you both sit on the grass.

"what is it (Nick name)"

He seems annoyed, but both knew that is both your ways of communication with each other.

"Play with me. 20 questions"

He shoot you a look, a look that looked like 'Seriously (Nick name)?'

"Come onnn"

You whine, looking at him with your puppy eyes.

"Alright"

He huff, making you smile as you face him.

"First question, Do you love me?"

".... Really?"

"Come onnn, just answer it"

".... Yes, unfortunately"

"Don't make it sound like a bad thing! Second question, Do you love me?"

"......."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes it is."

"Okay! great! Third question, Do you love me?"

"I love you."

He said, looking at you dead in the eyes, his glasses reflecting the moon light.

"Forth question, Will you ever let me go?"

"What kind of question is that?"

He scoff, then you shrug.

"Just asking"

Then he hug you from the side, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"I got a good grip of you. So I think"

he flash you a cheeky grin,

"Nope. Not letting you go"

You smiled at this.

"Fifth question"

You started, looking at him through his glasses.

"Out of all the pretty girl out there. Why me"

"I think about that a lot too"

You scoff at his reply.

"Fuck you"

As usual, you usually hit him, but he was injured so all you did was to roll your eyes at him and stand up and give him a middle finger.

You knew he was kidding, but he sucked at this one and you're pissed.

"Just kidding, they might be pretty. But I always think you're the best"

He said, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you on his chest. 

"Asshole"

You said hugging him.

"Anyways, the game is done"

"And that too. Be thankful I really love you"

You smile at his words.

After three weeks, he starts some light exercises like running and hanging out with Chris at their training center. You never failed to accompany him, but of course you can't fail the team, every time you went out with the captain, you just make it up with the team by making some rice ball, helping them with a catch and tossing them some so they can do some hit. 

You entered your third year at Koshein, you manage to survive till the 3rd round, then after that. Everything seems different, nationals seems to waken up every body, the hunger of nationals seems to go on there blood after that. Your boyfriend at that time seems to take baseball more seriously than anything, and you understand that, you are now on your third year of high school, this might be the last time and your last chance for you to go to Koshien.

As the spring tournament come, every thing seems to be going smoothly, you manage to make it till the Semis but end up losing to Ichidaisan High, Miyuki seems to be focusing on his battery with the second year, at this time you two have barely time for your relationship. You're far more dedicated to your manager job and he was busy being the captain and catcher at the same time. That doesn't stop your boyfriends fan club from attacking you.

You knew that Miyuki Kazuya is a pretty guy, he has a handsome face and its not just you who realize that, his fan girls too. From the moment you have gotten yourself in a relationship with him, you knew the risk of getting attacked by his fan club. You have taken it lightly for the past few years, but during your third year, you notice how they started to threaten you personally, but as usual, you shrug them off. telling them 'Nice Joke' then pat them at the shoulder walking past them. It was until it was one of your free time where you spend your time walking alone on the hallway, it was on your way to the practice after class since your boyfriend was a few minutes ahead of you. 

"Hey (Last name)"

You turn around, and you saw Margaret, one of the famous cheer leader that belongs to your boyfriends fan club. 

"Hi! What do you want? I'm kinda in a hurry as you can see"

You shoot her a gentle fake smile.

You blink as she march towards you, not even once did you move on your place.

"Let me tell you something, I'm so done watching a low class girl like you hanging around with a guy like Miyuki Kazuya."

"So? what are you getting at?"

You said, putting a hand on your hip.

"What I'm getting at is!"

She raise her hand, as if waiting for someone to place something on, and surprisingly someone put a smoothie on her hand.

And in a blink of an eye, that pink smoothie is on your shirt, staining it in the process.

"You don't! deserve him! I don't know how he manage to be in a relationship for so long to someone who doesn't even match him!"

You blink once again, clenching your fist as you try to keep your cool in front of these bitches. 

"Oh, and you did deserve him?"

"Of course"

She scoff at you, chin up as she do so.

"I have no time for this. I have to go"

You said, turning around as you said it. Ignoring the fact that she dump her pink fucking smoothie at you and dissed you.

"I got a picture with him"

You stop on your tracks and take a glance at her in the shoulder.

"So? Picture means nothing dear"

Referring to her picture with your boyfriend.

That doesn't mean anything, yet it bothers you. As time goes by, you felt self conscious. Plus the fact that you and your boyfriend seems to have no time for each other. But of course, as always you understand it. He was the captain, it was enough reason to ditch you out of your date, you keep telling yourself that. You knew how many schools and people scout him, he was a genius catcher, even you could acknowledge that. You knew, sooner or later he would be out of your league. 

You didn't think that that sooner will be at the end of your high school life. You kept ignoring what your haters are trying to say, you kept them out of your mind, push them away, out of all their hatred, never once did you ever tell him about it. You don't want to worry him, he was so busy with his high school baseball career. But now that his responsibility as a captain and catcher was done, you wan him to focus only on his career, since he seems to be doing fine without you now a days. After their retirement, you thought that it would be a nice idea to stay out on the field just like your early high school days with him.

"Remember, last year when you're recovering from your injury, we sat here at the same place, playing that 20 questions"

You said with a chuckle, nervously playing with your fingers. 

"Yeah, I remember"

He said, his amber iris staring at the stars behind his glasses.

"Miyuki. Can I ask you a question? Just three"

He looked at you for a moment, he must have thought you're kidding, but by the look on your face, you are serious. Making him straighten from his seat.

"Sure.. Anything"

"Am I good enough for you?"

For a moment, he seems surprise for a moment, he gulp and nod

"okay... Second, why are we drifting away?"   

You're not a fool, you knew when someone was losing interest into you.

"We are not. drifting away?"

That sounds more like a question rather than a statement. It made your heart ache, but he was making things much easier for you.

"Third, If i break up with you right now, will you chase after me?"

"No"

He chuckle, he thought you're kidding. God he really thought you are kidding.

There is no way in hell you'll break up with him, right?

"Good. Then I'm breaking up with you, Miyuki"

You're never really good enough for him anyways, it took you whole three years to realize you would never be at the same level as him. 

You growl, sitting up and holding your head.

"Gosh, that hurts"

You hiss, retracting your hand from the area where you assume you've been hit by the ball.

Suddenly the curtains around you was pushed side, revealing a female nurse.

"Hey! thank God you're finally awake. You're in the stadium infirmary"

You just look at her awkwardly 

"Anyways. does anything hurts?"

"Yeah, my head hurts"

"Oh that's normal, you just happened to get hit by a foul ball. But I think your brain seems fine, you're just going to get a few headaches and a bruise.. Anyways, you're free to go your things are on my table"

You nod at her words, but then something sink in into you.

"Ah excuse me"

You said sitting at the edge of the bed, pushing yourself off

She hummed at you, looking at the paper on her desk.

"Who won? how does the tournament ended?"

"Ah! Japan won, I think the score is 7-4 it ended on the 9th inning"

She said,

"The game ended few minutes ago, Miyuki Kazuya did most of the scoring, something might have clicked on him. Though, he look really hot--"

You slam the infirmary door behind you, not wanting to hear the rest. 

Bag in hand, your grip tighten on your bag, as you turn into your left, you don't expect to meet face to face with some of the players, let alone Japanese players. You stop on your tracks, it was as if air was knocked out of you as your (eye color) iris met with his amber ones. His teammates was shooting him a look as he too stop on his tracks, before walking past him and you, until you two are the only one left standing on the hallway of the stadium.

Then you turn around, heart aching as you do so.

"(Annoying Nick name) I don't think I'll see you again so soon after six years"

There was a sarcasm in his tone, but you choose to ignore it, turning around, you gave him a smile.

"Yeah, too bad I get to see your annoying face once again"

You scoff at him, smirk going on your face as you turn your back once again at him.

Why are you talking to me?

"Is that the reason why you broke up with me?"

That made you stop on your tracks.

I was never good enough for you. That's why i broke up with you.

"If that was the reason, you could have just told me"

You didn't turn around, nor replied at him.

You just look down, not looking in front of you as you walk away from him for the second time, and never once did he go after you. You felt like crying, it was as if all the feelings and insecurities you felt for the past few years came back crushing into you. 

If he really love you, why did he never come to chase you.

Were you that easy to let go?

Or were you just good at running away thinking it was all his fault?

Was this really his fault to begin with?

You stumble back, you though you came crushing with a wall but it turns out to be a person.

"Oh shit. Sorry"

The guy said, offering a hand to help you get up. And you accept it, pulling to help you up, you came face to face with Alexander Smith.

"Oh! You're the lady that caught that foul ball! I was just looking for you!"

He said in english, making you look at him with curiosity.

"Me? Why me?"

"Ah well. As you can see, I was the one batting when you get hit by the foul ball. So i thought I should check up on you then, Ya'know at least offer you a ride home"

He added with a wink, speaking in english.

Did he just flirt at you?

As you are about to speak, an arm wasp its way on your waist, that caught you off guard, looking at the mad man who was the guts to do it, you are quite well shocked.

"Sorry, but she already has a ride home, she's coming with me"

Miyuki Kazuya said in english, looking at Alexander dead in the eyes behind his glasses, somehow reminds you of that one time after the draw outs in the fall tournament back then during your high school days.

Alexander seems to back off by the way Miyuki was glaring at him, before you could even protest, He was already dragging you towards the parking lot of the stadium. Soon both of you was in side the car, he was the one who was driving as you seat in shock beside him. Then you glare at him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

You hiss at him, before looking for your phone in the bag.

He didn't replied, all he did was to focus on his driving.

"Miyuki Kazuya! I'm asking you what the heck is wrong with you!"

"Stop shouting"

"Then answer me"

He seems pissed, in a matter of second he pull out of the road, before pushing the hazard button. Then face you.

"Why did you break up with me"

You scoff at this.

"What the heck are you talking about, Miyuki"

"Why did you broke up with me"

He repeat, his amber iris demanding of answer.

"Miyuki"

You started,

"Why are you asking me that now"

You added, 

"You had your chance to ask that question six years ago"

Your heartache as you look at him.

"I think its a little to late for you to ask me that"

He deserves better, you know that.

You will never be good enough for him,

You knew and accepted that fact that's why you let him go,

But what hurts you the most is that he never even chase after you.

But is he really at fault?

You took it as a chase to unlock your side of the car and get out, as your about to slam the door, you heard something you thought you'll never hear again.

"I just want to know where did I go wrong, baby"

His voice cracked,

"I still love you, just give me a chance to make things right"

Why now? When you actually thought you've moved on from him. Why now?

Maybe going in this match is a big mistake.

"Oh dear, you look awful"

Leanne, your bartender friend comment, slamming a glass of  Margarita in front of you.

"Thanks for the compliment, I met my ex today"

You said, before drowning yourself with cocktail 

"Interesting, which one?"

You shoot her a glare.

Of course, during that six years you tried to date different guys, but as you get to know them, the more you realize you've always been comparing Miyuki to them, and its not fair, it never worked out anyways. 

"Oh, the baseball fella then"

Her deep blue eyes sparkle in delight.

"Tell me about it. I used to play baseball when I was in high school"

"Leanne-san"

"Zup?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure go ahead"

She said, purring herself some drinks.

" If you had an athlete boyfriend, and everyone seems to be telling you that you are not good enough for him --"

"What would I do?"

She cut you off, at the same time finishing your question.

"It's simple. I won't give a damn to whatever they say"

"Don't make it sound so easy!"

You scoff at her, get only laugh at you as she refill your glass.

"Oh dear, sweet (Nick Name). I don't know what is up with you. But for me, it's up to my boyfriend"

She said, holding up a finger.

" When it comes to relationship, others words doesn't really matter when it comes to me. And if that was the case, Fuck others, and if I knew it to myself that my boyfriend is really out of my league, I'll do my best to be enough for him, I'll support him in his games, I'll be there for him. Unless he pushed me away"

She said, suddenly shifting her glaze from her drink into you.

"If he did push me away, then that might be the reason for me to leave him. If he told me i wasn't enough then fine. I'll leave. It's not like i don't know that myself." 

Then as much to your surprise, she took a sip directly from the bottle of vodka 

"What the.."

"What? I own this place. I'm the boss"

She scoff then laugh.

"Guess you broke up with him."

She shoot you a look and lean from the counter.

"It was written all over your face dear."

She stated, making you look away from her glaze.

"The guilt" 

She added

"What's the matter? He didn't even go after me"

You hiss at her.

"He didn't even go after me six years ago when he should have done it. What give him the nerve to ask me now why I broke up with him?"

"If he did. What would you do?"

"What?"

Her question caught you off guard.

"Six years ago, if he did chase after you. What would you do? take him back?"

Yeah, If he chase after you, what would you do?

You..

"I still wouldn't"

"Why?"

"I panic! I was self insecure i wasn't good enough for him, and..."

"and what?"

"I got a scholarship back in (your country name), in was one of the finest university in my country... I was scared long dis--"

"You should have told him."

She cut you off,

"You broke up with him out of nowhere thinking It would be the best for you and him. Yet you don't gave him a reason why, you left him wondering why for the past few years (nick name). That's what I'm thinking"

She said.

"He seems to be doing fine after I left"

"You got a point there"

She chuckle.

"But how do you know? You've been gone for the first four years, and came back almost two years ago right?"

She was right, you've been gone for the past few years during your time in college. You met her a year ago when your co-worker brought you in this bar, then you met this Filipino American bar owner that seems to be happy go lucky with her life.

"Admit it (Nick name) you know nothing about him, or what he's been through after you left him."

She grab your glass, purring you another shot of margarita.

"Stop running away and talk to him. He deserve an explanation"

She said, slamming the glass in front of you, and in stead of answering or replying to her, you drink it straight.

"What's up with you children nowadays"

She mumble under her breath, making you wonder at some point. 

"Come to think of it, you seems to know everything when it comes to love. How to you know what to do?"

She only laugh at you.

" I know nothing dear, I only have logic with me. Besides you sounds like an old friend, though, he's much more dumber than you"

You only laugh at that, her words echoing on your mind. 

Admit it (Nick name) you know nothing about him, or what he's been through after you left him.

You left him wondering why for the past few years

Stop running away and talk to him. He deserve an explanation.

"Kuramuchi"

You wave at your old friend as you decided to meet up.

"Zup (Nick name)?"

He said, taking the vacant seat in front of you.

"As much as I want to talk to you about how you've been. I.. uhm... I want to talk about Miyuki"

"You mean after you left?"

"Pretty much about that"

You said as you choose a meal to order, after that you continue your conversation.

"How is he?"

"Now or after you left?"

"both?"

You said, doesn't sound so sure.

"Well to be honest, we never really go on'a same college"

He seems to think for a few seconds before adding

"But I'm pretty sure he was devastated to the point where he almost quit baseball at some point"

And when he met your crestfallen face, 

"He was really heartbroken (Nick name)"

Then the food came, you don't even have the appetite to eat.

"When he learned that you go back to (your country name) he went after you"

"no way"

"Ya' bet"

He scoff, eating his steak.

"You owe him an explanation after all."

fuck. 

"When he came back we thought he got what he came for, but he was worse than ever. I mean, that time I heard he started playing baseball again, he was still in his game senses"

He took another bite.

"Few months later, after our finals, we decided to meet up, checking what the others where doing. Then I saw him, at first nothing seems wrong. But something seems off with him, his eyes grew cold. there was barely a shine on it. It was as if you took it all away with you"

He drink his juice,

"So I asked him what he saw when he came to (your country name). (Nick name), he told us you are with someone else. That is all he said, he was never really the type to talk about himself let alone his past or something"

Your heart stopped beating.

"And he doesn't want to believe it that's why he kept on focusing on playing baseball. That is what happened while you are gone."

"I thought he would be better off without me like what they said."

You gasp to yourself, looking at him with teary eyes.

"He was never better off without you."

He snicker,

"And don't cry on me, people might get the wrong idea"

He added, smiling at you.

"Anyways, after that. We heard a year ago you are back in Japan, he never stopped looking for you. Ya'know"

He shoot you a grin.

"He always watch you from afar. (Nick name)"

All this years.

"No wonder why he was all out on our match match. You should have seen his face when he learned that it was you who got hit by the ball"

He snicker once again, an image off a pissed off Miyuki going over your head.

"He was so pissed off he made sure never to make a single soul step on the base. Especially the Alexander one"

That must be because he was the one who hit you in the very first place.

"I heard he gave you a ride after the match"

"Yeah. More like forced me too"

He laugh once again.

"Did he asked?"

"Yeah"

"Did you answered him?"

"Nope"

"Why did you break up with him?"

"I thought I wasn't good enough for him."

"He was the one to decided that. Ya'know"

"Yeah, I know"

"Tell him then."

"Do you think he will forgive me?"

"Six years had gone by, despite his still arrogant and  cheeky ass, he care for you more than anything. You got him warp around your finger despite breaking up with him for no reason out of nowhere just because you let others get in your head which is pretty much stupid."

He said, rolling his eyes at you.

"Haha, nice to meet you again Kuramochi"

"Yeah. Talk to him"

"Don't worry. I will"

When you said you are going to talk to him, you mean it like after his tournament game. So here you stand, right after their game, awkwardly waiting for him to come out as you stand beside his car in the parking lot. You play with your finger to easy your nerves.

"(First name)"

You stiffen as you heard your name roll of his tongue 

"We need to talk"

Four words was all it takes to make him nervous enough as if he was having a hard time making a call at the battery. 

"Sure, where do you w--"

"I'm sorry"

You cried, 

This is pathetic, 

You thought as you started crying 

"I'm sorry for making you think our break up was at your fault. I'm sorry"

You cried, bowing at him.

"I never meant to hurt you. I was just getting insecure if I was really good enough for you, and because I ran away too, I should have told you I got a scholarship back in my country and that I'm leaving right after our graduation. I'm sorry, it was never your fault. I'm so sorry for making you feel that way" 

"I wish you knew how much it destroyed me when you left" 

I'm sorry.

"You left me when I needed you the most"

He added, making you painfully close your eyes as your heart painfully aches.

This must be your karma for being a fucking coward.

"And still"

He felt an arm warp around your tiny form.

"I told you. I loved you all the same"

He told you tight, gently rocking you as you cried into his chest, his cologne smells like nostalgia, the same one he always used during your high school days.

"I don't care how complicated this gets, I still want you"

Then he let you go, getting a hold of your tear stained cheeks.

"I should have chase after you. I thought you're kidding when you broke up with me. Sorry"

He said, his amber iris meeting yours behind his glasses. 

"No. It--"

"Let's play a game"

He cut you off.

"20 questions"

By the way he was looking at you and cupping your cheeks, you have no choice but to nod.

"Do you still love me?"

There was no point of denying, you nod. 

"Do you want me back?"

You take a hold of his hand on you,

"I don't--"

"That is something for me to decided (annoying nick name). Now, yes or no?"

"Yes..."

"Good. Now, do you miss me?"

"A lot."

"You better"

He said, kissing your forehead.

It wasn't so long till they finally make it inside the car, they spend the rest of the ride answering the rest of the questions, one they always did in high school whenever they want to catch up with each others doing, it was fun, the feeling of someone you love coming back into you like it was always meant to happened, people learn how to forgive anyways. As for Miyuki Kazuya, you have always been his anchor, you have always been his someone whom he could always hold on into, that must be the reason why we was so devastated and broken when you left. He always knew you had a reason for leaving, and now that he knew, he would make sure you never felt that way ever again. It took fate, six years to put you two back together again. Heck he can't even focus now that you are right beside him.

"Remember the first time we met?"

"Yeah, for a second you are just staring at me behind your classes then minutes after that you decided that teasing me would be the best idea ever made"

You said, rolling your red eyes from the earlier crying at him.

"I knew I did that from the first moment we met.. It was"

He seems serious it made you look at him as he focus from his driving

"It was not love at first sight, but familiarity. Like.."

He look at you for a moment, his eyes telling you something underneath his glasses.

" It's you. Its gonna be you"

The Miyuki Kazuya you knew in high school would never admit, nor say something like that. Years and experience does sometimes change  a person, it would make you realize your mistakes and wrong doings.

"Asshole"

You said, holding his harm before giving it a squeeze 

"Will you catch me again. (Nick name)?"

You look at him once again, only to meet with his amber iris once again before looking back in the road.

"That's my last question"

he explained, making you realize he was asking permission to start again.

You smile at him,

"If you know the way on my apartment"

You didn't answer him right away, you left him on hanging that night. But her answer is loud and clear when you arrive on his next game, cheering and threatening to dump him is he loose, oh and you never forgot to bring some homemade dark chocolate for him.

It's good to have her back.

He thought, his eyes shining, a genuine smile going on his lips. 

What if, you and I were meant to part ways, only so that we could find each other again

Miyuki Kazuya x Reader

Diamond of Ace

8450 words count

Currently Working on Sakusa Kiyoomi 

° • ☆ Back To Masterlist ☆ • °

#miyuki kazuya #miyuki x reader #miyuki kazuya x reader #pro baseball player au #proffesional au #diamond no ace x reader #diamond no ace #love at second chance #x reader #sports anime x reader #sports anime

[theloyaltyofthewolves]

recently the mood has just been no thoughts, head empty; just soft SKZ Virgo boys~

okay okay okay. okayokayokay. let’s talk about the virgos. (this is going to be a long post, so go make yourselves some popcorn or tea or white wine or somethin because i have been wanting to write this from the moment i started this blog and this bitch is long.)

it’s a little impressive, honestly, to have a group of eight people consist of three virgos. considering it’s one of the most underappreciated signs in the zodiac, that’s a lot of earth sign, and that’s a lot of virgo. but i think the interesting thing about the virgos in stray kids is that they are all different versions of the same sign. like one of those pokemon whose evolution is the same creature, just with a different coat color. they play so perfectly off and into each other. it very much feels as if it was meant to be. 

let’s start with the baby.

seungmin is almost a cusp. he’s right on the border of libra and virgo, which means he inherited a little bit of both. cusps are often pretty conflicted people, but i think seungmin wears it well. he’s got the steadiness of a virgo—his feet are planted firmly in the soil. he’s got the motivation of a virgo, that self-discipline that verges on cruel. listening to the paranoid ways that he cares for his voice—no a/c, only masks, no shouting—that’s that virgo neurosis. he’s the controlled virgo, the perfectly-aligned virgo. the stereotypical virgo. good with money, level-headed in an argument, prone to fits of contained anger if things don’t go his way or he experiences unanticipated setbacks. he’s the impatient, exasperated, long-suffering virgo mom friend. tough love, rough love. brutal honesty and uncensored opinions. getting his teammates out of bed and into the van, forcing vitamins down their throats, throwing sunscreen at their backs and water bottles at their heads because god fucking damnit, can’t they take care of themselves for once? the advice-giver, the maknae with a head full of barbed wisdom. he’s the knows better kid, because he does. seungmin knows better. he knows what to do, so he’s the one they call. night or day. i’ve messed up, i think i really messed up this time. and he’ll talk them off a ledge, go to the only all-night grocery store, buy some ice cream and some gummy vitamins. show up at jisung’s door and say take a deep breath. you’re going to be okay, peabrain. grow up a little. sharp and a little bit caustic, but his friends have learned that the sting usually means he’s right.  

and within that rough love, there are moments of unthinkable sweetness. holding hands under the table to calm nerves at radio interviews, pressure on the back of a neck to hold back a panic attack at an airport, warm arms under the covers the night before a concert. the ability to bring such profound comfort is uniquely virgo--it exists nowhere else in the zodiac. no other sign has the capacity to ground, to center. there is assurance of course in the gentle touch of others, of the i feel you, i am with you, you’re going to be okay. but that’s not how seungmin brings comfort. it’s not gentle, it’s not soft. it’s not treating someone like they’re about to shatter to pieces. it is an unyielding and forceful kind of comfort. you are breathing. your heart is beating. you are alive--now fucking act like it. that’s what seungmin does, he brings his teammates back to the ground and he ties them there, strings a rope between his hand and theirs so that there is no slipping away. it’s a rough love, a tough love, but it works. like splashing your face with cold water, or pinching the back of your hand. a little bit of pain – just a little – to remind you that you are still alive. you’re still feeling. and then seungmin will sit and he will wait and he will keep his teammates together until they’re strong enough to do it themselves. nothing weathers the winds and the waters of time like a virgo’s love. 

there are souls in this world who have lived many lives. people that you encounter and can sense, somehow, somewhere, a very immense sort of old. not old like grandparents or textbooks, not old as in dusty attics or love letters, black and white photographs. old as in ancient. like the sea, or the mountains, the canyons. the redwood trees and the milky way. sometimes you encounter people who hold that great vastness of time in them, and yongbok is one of those people. his soul has been around for a very, very long time. it’s seen the oceans rise and the moon go yellow. this is not its first time on earth, nor will it be its last.

yongbok is the old-soul virgo. the contemplative, philosophical one with his head in the clouds. he spends a lot of his time thinking, just like all virgos do. they are the overthinkers, the worriers. worring over things that have happened, are happening, will happen. past, present, and future, worry worry worry. and i know he doesn’t really come across like that at first. i too was fooled into believing that yongbok does not have a brain. plot twist: i actually think yongbok might use his brain the most. not for common sense, or anything. like let’s be real: yongbok has definitely never asked himself whether the thing that he is doing, such as eating a banana peel or gluing googly eyes to all of minho’s possessions, is a good thing to be doing. that thought process has never entered his head, nor will it ever enter his head. this is because wisdom and intelligence are different traits, and while yongbok’s got wisdom coming out the ass, he’d sit on wet paint because he didn’t take the time to read the sign. i think that’s why i’ve always felt like yongbok wasn’t really made to be an idol. like, of course he deserves it and he belongs with stray kids. he’s good enough and he’s brave enough and he’s strong enough. but there’s just something about him that screams i was not made for a life of glass and steel and concrete. i was not made for a camera lens. he was made for a cottage on the edge of the sea where he can sit and contemplate the great unknown unhindered by paparazzi or a world-class act. he’s too soft for that, too gentle. too sincere and genuine and open-hearted.

i think yongbok learning to make peace with the discord within himself though – an inner yearning for a simple life and an unquenchable thirst for success – by finding fulfilment outside of the business end of stray kids and devoting himself instead to his members. i could talk for hours about yongbok and his cooking and his sunshine, but i’ll restrain myself and just say: yongbok isn’t the backbone of the team. he doesn’t have the strength and willpower the way chan or minho do, the physical capacity to endure weight and pressure and carry his teammates to the finish line like changbin. he’s not grounding like seungmin or jeongin, he’s not electrifying like jisung, and he doesn’t bleed humanity like hyunjin. yongbok’s power, his role in stray kids, comes from his softness and his genuine love for them. the way he looks at them like they hung the stars. the gentle, silly, dumb ways he loves them, gives and shows that love just by being present. he’s the sunshine kid, he brings warmth because he brings love, because it comes off of him in waves. 

and then there’s jisung. little jisung! a virgo in his own right, although you wouldn’t think it given his propensity for dramatics and conflict and stage-stealing. what makes jisung a virgo is his defiance. i’ve talked about it before, could talk about it until i was blue in the face, but jisung is filled with fire. i don’t know what force made him this way, but whatever it was, it made him with the intention to burn. burn down stages, burn down cities, burn down countries. ashes to ashes and dust to dust, jisung is meant to bring the world to its knees. there is a hurricane in him, a maelstrom. it strains at the seams of his skin to be released, rages against his bones until they crack under the weight of all the life he’s kept contained. there is a light in him that will never go out and every day he fights against it swallowing him whole. 

that kind of fire knows no master. cannot be handled, cannot be contained. cannot be scripted or framed or repositioned. there is no politics in jisung’s fury and ocean, it is just sheer energy and flame—human spirit, you could say. virgos are masters of their own fates. they do not let higher powers take their will from them. the backbone of every revolution is a virgo, because they’re unfazed in the face of authority. virgos only believe in power they can see and touch. that means they are not fallible to state or god. no wonder why jyp had such trouble with jisung at first—there’s no way a kid like that, with that much cyanide and gasoline in his veins, fell into line. in fact, we know he didn’t. in a place so constrained and regimented as an entertainment company, someone like jisung must have chafed at every corner. virgos can’t be tricked into believing, there will be no blind faith from them. you have to put your money where your mouth is and prove yourself. not just that you’ve got a cause worth fighting for, but that you’re even worth the time of day to listen to in the first place. i don’t know about you, but i kinda doubt jyp’s menacing management staff and their consumerist rhetoric made the cut. it’s one in a list of a million reasons why chan stands out to me, why i know he’s so much more than he lets on. because for all that jyp entertainment tried to force jisung to his knees, chan only needed to ask. 

aside from raging against the machine as all good virgos do, jisung is- how do i put this? jisung’s really fucking smart, in the way only virgos (and scorpios!) ever are. like okay, no lie. the kid’s this close to being a genius. whenever they play games based in deceit or lying, jisung can play them under the table. remember when i said jisung’s got an emotional intelligence that’s off the charts? this is an example of that. he knows his teammates better than they know themselves because he spends every waking hour of his day paying attention to them. i’ve noticed this with most of the “mood-makers” in kpop. their role is to keep the pulse of the group up and racing, and that means they need to know how each one of their teammates is feeling, regardless of whether he’s hiding it or not. jisung needs to have his teammates’ tells so thoroughly intuited that he can read them from the other end of a stage during a black-out between performances. that’s his job. so of course he’s a virgo, because he needs that virgo intuition and logic, the ability to fill in the gaps on the heel of a dime. to know in the hair’s width of time before the commercial break ends and they’re back on the air, if jisung needs to draw the spotlight because hyunjin’s feeling a little bit ganged up on by the hosts or chan’s voice is starting to give a little. to smooth out the edges, hide their rough edges under a veil. because that’s what he does, and that’s what he’ll always do. cover for his teammates. hold them up the only way he knows how. 

they make a pretty formidable trio, don’t you think? between seungmin’s brutal honesty, yongbok’s stubbornness, and jisung’s wit, i imagine the three of them get what they want. that’s how virgos are. they expect more and they expect better and they do not take shit from anyone. if a virgo thinks that they’re right, there is a zero percent chance that you will get your way. it will save everyone involved time, energy, and effort to give in and acquiesce. otherwise, you’re facing an uphill battle that you will not win. not with one virgo, and certainly not with three. i honestly pity the rest of stray kids. no one does stubborn quite like an earth sign. 

they are also, quite bluntly, essential to the team. stray kids are eight pieces of one whole, and the virgo line take up a pretty considerable fraction of that whole. without their support, be it through seungmin’s fierce and brambled comfort, yongbok’s soft and humble warmth, or jisung’s quick-thinking, stray kids would implode. there’s a reason there are earth signs in every kpop group—they’re the ones with their shit together. they’re the ones that keep everyone else’s shit together, either through nagging or just brute force. they are the grounding weight, the support net. smart, sharp, ever-aware, to show up on top of their game. stray kids’ virgos are nonstop. they’ll keep it together, keep their team together, if it fucking kills them. 

you know how it is. different circus, same clowns. - @hexglyphs 

#forgive me i know that last pic is the '00 line #but c'mon look at hyunjin's face #he wants to be included too #i love the virgos very very much #skz + the zodiac #anons #replies #this was so much fun to write #earth signs run the world y'all #get over it

[baoshan-sanren]

Part 10

to the fucking NieLan arranged marriage AU I can’t stop thinking about, that should really have a title by now

pt.1 here | pt.2 here | pt.3 here | pt.4 here | pt.5 here | pt.6 here | pt.7 here | pt.8 here | pt.9 here 

Three days later, the QiShan Wen spill into HeJian, and the Sect Leaders declare war.

It takes another three days for them all to gather in the Unclean Realm, and once they arrive, each one is worried about his own Sect, his own territory, each one determined to see the war as another treaty-making opportunity, out of which they mean to gain the most, without suffering any loses. The first day of these discussions is so unbearable, so infuriating, that MingJue swallows his pride, and asks XiChen to play the Song of Clarity in the evening. It is impossible to control his temper in face of so much stupidity, and he is afraid that a single slip-up may cost Sect Leader Yao his useless spine. XiChen asks no questions, and plays for him late into the night, until MingJue feels that he can breathe again.

The second day starts off on a better note. There are finally done with leadership arguments, the majority insisting that Nie MingJue is the only one capable of uniting them. Nie MingJue highly doubts that anyone can unite them, and he could not care less who will actually lead them. Three different reports of Wen movements have arrived since the sun rose that morning, and anything that is not planning for immediate response is, in his opinion, a colossal waste of time they can ill-spare.

He is determined to be patient. But an hour into the disagreement over their positions in YingChuan, Nie YongZhi shows up to inform him that HuaiSang has not yet shown up for the morning drills. Instantly, fury envelops him again, and he sends a servant scurrying to find his worthless little brother, who cannot even do the one simple thing MingJue has asked him to do.

Three days. All he needed to do is run the drills for three days, while MingJue is trapped in hell with the most unbearable group of men in the cultivation world. It is such a simple thing, to stand in the courtyard for two hours in the morning, and shout at disciples who fall out of line.

Moments later, HuaiSang rushes into the hall, XiChen at his back, and bows to the Sect Leaders.

Before MingJue can say anything at all, XiChen bows as well, “I take full responsibility for A-Sang’s tardiness. I have kept him in the morning lessons too long, and we both lost track of time. Please do not be angry.”

“Do not make excuses for him,” MingJue says.

He wants to be angry at them both, but it is impossible to be angry at XiChen. Just seeing him, his unruffled calm, his tranquil expression, eases the rigid tension across MingJue’s shoulders.

It suddenly occurs to him how ridiculous it is, that half-witted fools like Sect Leader Yao are being listened to, while Lan XiChen, who was to be the next Lan Sect Leader, is teaching MingJue’s hopeless little brother how to play the guqin.

“I am going right now, da-ge,” HuaiSang says quickly, already backing up to the courtyard entrance, “I will keep them longer to make up for the late start. Do not worry.”

With that, he practically runs, and some of the sect leaders chuckle under their breath at the sight.

XiChen turns to go, and MingJue is struck with an inspiration so sudden, he does not let himself think before calling out, “XiChen, do you have a moment.”

XiChen turns back, an uncertain smile hovering around his lips, “Of course. What can I do?”

“Take a look at this, and tell us what you think.”

MingJue can see Sect Leader Yao opening his mouth out of the corner of his eye, and shoots him a look so murderous that the old goat should have died on the spot. Whatever he had meant to say, Sect Leader Yao seems to change his mind, his mouth closing with a click.

XiChen approaches the table, on which the map is laid out, only the Wen Sect numbers and positions set in place, as they could not agree on anything else. He studies the map for some time, long enough that a few of the sect leaders begin to whisper among themselves, none of them brave enough to question MingJue, but most of them brave enough to ignore XiChen.

XiChen’s fingers trace the path along the border of ShuDong and YiLing, stop at LaoLing, then turn back. There is a tiny wrinkle in between his eyebrows, the one Nie MingJue knows intimately by now, and he cannot help but think how unreal it still feels, that this man is his husband, that this is someone MingJue is allowed to share his life with.

XiChen’s eyes lift to meet his, and MingJue chases those thoughts away.

“Do you truly wish to know?” XiChen asks, so softly, that it goes unnoticed by others.

“I do.”

XiChen sighs, and nods slightly, and MingJue slaps his palm on the table to get the others to quiet down.

“The large majority of their numbers are in HeJian,” XiChen says, eyes on the map, “There is no good reason for this, except to draw out the QingHe Nie to the north, to fight a battle over mostly uninhibited and worthless territory. Wen RuoHan is counting on MingJue being uncomfortable with their proximity, and expects him to react accordingly.”

“You do not think I should send men there,” MingJue says.

“No. You should take the Nie Sect and the Jiang Sect to the border just beyond KuiZhou. The majority of his force there has crossed the river. I do not think Wen RuoHan would have instructed them to do so; it is likely to be an action of some overenthusiastic commander who has never fought a war before. It looks like their main supply for that force is in MeiShan, and poorly protected. I would strike in three-- no, four places at once. But first, I would send the LanLing Jin to the HeJian border.”

An uproar is triggered by his words, and XiChen looks up, his expression surprised, as if he had forgotten that there was anyone else in the hall aside from MingJue and himself.

Jin GuangShan is standing, his beard practically quivering in ire, “Send my sect to HeJian? Why would I do such a thing? Did you not just say that the Nie should not go there themselves? What do you mean by this?”

“Quiet!” MingJue roars, loud enough to rattle the teacups, “If you can be quiet, instead of shouting like children, perhaps XiChen can explain it in a way you would understand.”

The indignation is palatable, more than one Sect Leader taking the appearance of a goosed chicken, with all their feathers throughly ruffled. Jiang FengMian however, has remained silent and thoughtful, and so has Lan QiRen.

XiChen glances at MingJue one more time, as if looking for reassurance, and goes on, “There will be no battle at HeJian. Wen RuoHan only intends to draw the Nie Sect there, so he can slice into YiLing before the Jiang Sect has a chance to seek help. Furthermore, he does not mean to cripple the LanLing in any way. I mean no offense, Sect Leader Jin, but your Sect is less valuable if damaged. Wen RuoHan means to leave you relatively untouched until the very end, and then force your hand in joining him, when you will have no other option. Sending the Jin Sect to HeJian would force him to reconsider all his plans, regardless of other circumstances. But there will be no time for him to do so, because--“

“Because he will be in the process of fighting both at MeiShan and KuiZhou,” MingJue finishes off, seeing it all neatly fall into place.

“Exactly,” XiChen nods, “I would send two of the smaller Sects to wait at MeiShan. The Nie Sect to attack KuiZhou from the east, and push the Wen into the river. The Jiang Sect to attack from the river, which only they can do with skill. The Wen will be caught between a hammer and an anvil, and none will consider running south, unless they lose their direction. MeiShan will be left undefended for a small window of time, just long enough to take the Yu Sect seat back, and all of the supplies the Wen depend on to hold that part of the south. By the time the news reaches him, Wen RuoHan will regret his power play in HeJian, and he will pull his forces back closer to the Nightless City. It is very likely that the Jin Sect will never have to fight,” he says, looking up at Jin GuangShan.

“What about the Lan Sect?” Lan QiRen says, his soft voice heavy in the silence.

“Here,” XiChen’s finger lands at an area some couple of hundred li outside YueYang.

“What is their purpose there?” Jin GuangShan exclaims, no longer capable of keeping silent, “It is not as if they can directly attack QiShan without being slaughtered.”

“No,” XiChen says, “They cannot reach QiShan from there. But in the confusion caused by the Nie and the Jiang attacks to the south, they can carve a slice deep enough into the Wen territory to accomplish something even more important.”

“Chaos,” MingJue says softly, staring at the place XiChen’s finger rested, “Coming on the heels of the Jin Sect showing up in HeJian, the Nie and the Jiang appearing KuiZhou, the loss of his supplies in MeiShan, the attack so close to the heart of YueYang will give Wen RuoHan no chance to consider his next move at length. He will have to react on multiple fronts, and hope that his lower command knows how to think on their feet.”

“I will wager that they do not,” XiChen smiles at him warmly, and MingJue feels his heart skip a beat.

“I am not so sure about this,” Jin GuangShan says, “I think we should reconsider before deciding.”

MingJue ignores him, “All those in favor?”

Jiang FengMian, Lan QiRen, and six of the seven small sect leaders voice their assent. MingJue gets to his feet.

“I would ask the honorable Sect Leaders who have grasped the battle plans fully, to explain it to those who have not. KuiZhou is quite far from QingHe Nie, and my Sect must make immediate preparations for departure. I trust you can find your way out.”

Taking XiChen by the elbow, he gently steers him out of the hall, and away from whatever unflattering nonsense Jin GuangShan is about to say.

“I should be the one to lead the Lan Sect,” XiChen says, and MingJue freezes mid-step, his heart crawling into his throat.

XiChen stops as well, and takes the hand that MingJue had wrapped around his elbow, gripping it in both of his. There are two spots of color, high in his cheeks, and there is something fervent in his gaze, something MingJue has never seen before.

“My uncle is too old,” he says quickly, words leaving him in a rush, “and WangJi is too young. Although I have married outside the Sect, the men who go to YueYang will be my peers, more likely to trust my judgment than my brother’s. I am the only one who knows how far we must go to cause the greatest possible chaos, and how to do so with the least loss of life. I can do this, better than anyone else. You know this.”

“I do,” MingJue says, and he does.

This war should be fought with XiChen at its helm. His intellect, his abilities, his temper, it is all more suitable to the role MingJue is so desperately trying to fill. XiChen is infinitely superior to him in every way. He is infinitely superior to any man MingJue has ever known.

“Then you know it must be me,” XiChen says, his hands hot around MingJue’s, “Let me do this.”

I love you, MingJue wants to say, but the words do not come out.

“All right,” he says instead, and sincerely hopes he does not live to regret it.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #nielan #nie mingjue #ficlet #m #arranged marriage au pt.10 #okay okay #so i have taken some liberties #with the locations #and i will continue to take these liberties #as we go along #bc mxtx is notoriously vague about some stuff #and i can't be #anyway #i said there was gonna be 6 more parts #but i have 3 written that need editing #and we're nowhere close to the end so #i lied #wen qing is coming tho #yayy

[janeofcakes]

KYFC..: Chapter 13

Hello, my friends! I hope you are all having/had a lovely Sunday. I apologize for being late with this chapter. I decided to try out a beta and it is definitely a learning process. I hadn’t anticipated the extra time editing would take, or wanting so many “final” read-throughs. Mind you, I truly believe the chapter is better for it. However....for whatever reason, I’m more freaked out about putting this chapter out there than any other so far. Haha. Whatever the case with me, I hope you all enjoy it.

---

My heart burns with feeling, but whoa my mind, it’s cold and reeling. Is this love, baby, or is it just confusion?                                                                        --Jimi Hendrix, Love or Confusion

John stares up at the red roof of the Edgar Allan Poe House and Museum in the late morning sun. It is a fairly small and assuming home, but he cannot help wondering at what secrets it holds. He has bubbled with anticipation since he read the words “..walking into Poe’s Baltimore home is both disturbing and ethereal” on its website at breakfast. He had invited the skaters along, but they all had other plans already. So, here he is, standing before it alone.

He is about to walk up the small wooden staircase at its entrance when he becomes aware of a presence to his right. He turns quickly and comes face to face with a hesitant Sherlock Holmes, shifting his feet and looking at John with a face full of uncertainty.

“Hi,” John grins and Sherlock looks surprised. “I didn’t see you at breakfast. You did eat?”

“I put together something in my room,” Sherlock answers, his expression shifting. “I often request that the kitchenette be stocked with some of the basics.”

“That is a great idea. I’ll have to remember that,” John nods, making a mental note.

There is a moment of silence while he considers the coach’s demeanor curiously. 

“Are you going in or just passing by?” he gestures to the house.

“Oh, going in,” Sherlock clears his throat. “Poe is a favorite author of mine.”

“Mine too,” John remarks. “Want to go through together? We could go for lunch when we’re done.”

John tilts his head and furrows his brow as he watches Sherlock. The taller man looks utterly flummoxed and John has no idea why.

“Erm…well, I rather thought after this morning…after what I did...and said...” he pauses awkwardly, waving his hand in a rather general way as if hoping it will somehow clarify his meaning. John raises his brows in question and Sherlock sighs in frustration. “I know when I’ve been dismissed.”

“What?” John huffs a startled laugh. “No. That isn’t what I meant at all. Look, I know I left abruptly.”

“Quite,” the coach replies curtly.

“Okay, okay,” John responds, his tone growing defensive, “and I didn’t say much.”

“You would have avoided speaking entirely if it were possible,” Sherlock huffed, aggravation pulsing off of him in waves.

“Okay, Sherlock, I get it. I’m sorry,” John murmured. “I was...disappointed.”

Sherlock gives him a pointed look, but one that cannot hide the hurt in his eyes.

“With myself,” John rushes to say and continues in a decisive tone. “Not with you. I didn’t mean to give the impression that I wanted to disassociate myself from you.”

Sherlock’s face adopts an expression that screams ‘Really, John? Really?’. He lowers his narrowed eyes a moment and then gives John a sardonic smile.

“What impression did you think it would give?” Sherlock’s voice drips with annoyance, his whole body radiating anger. 

They stare at one another, their words hanging between them, like a thick smog that leaves no room to breathe. John is no idiot. He gets what Sherlock is saying, but his past was the last thing he had wanted to talk about, especially after such a fucking spectacular night. Still there was no way around it. John had been angry while telling the story, but it had soon faded, leaving him exposed and frustrated. He had wanted only to leave as fast as he could before Sherlock had a chance to properly judge his actions and throw him out. He hadn’t meant to cast any sort of judgment upon Sherlock or make him feel he was being rejected. Christ, he is such a dick.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, hoping his tone conveys the depth of his feeling. He does not want to lose this friendship. He cannot lose it. He watches Sherlock for any sign of forgiveness and, to his relief, he sees the coach’s grey eyes soften and his annoyance fading.

“I should be the one apologizing, John. I am seldom able to deduce you so fully and when I finally could, I got carried away. It was stupid and an obviously very painful part of your past. I’m sorry,” Sherlock says in a rush, his voice flustered. He bites his lower lip and looks at John with nervous eyes.

“You,” John pauses, his mind processing all Sherlock just said. He takes a step forward with a playful and mischievous smirk, “can’t always deduce me? Like you do everyone else?”

“Haven’t I mentioned it before? I’m quite sure I have. You guard your secrets with great care, John,” Sherlock nods his head; half annoyed, half in awe.

“Yeah, but hiding something from you,” John puffs out a breath.

“Is nothing short of miraculous,” Sherlock ventures when John simply pauses. It sounds pompous, but it is exactly what John is thinking. 

The two gaze at each as the taller man takes a small step closer and looks at John with an open, honest expression. John’s heart skips a beat while Sherlock’s next words give him a heart attack:

“You are the most intriguing man I have ever met.”

John is speechless for a full ten seconds. Any longer than that and Sherlock would have thought he had done something wrong. John takes another step closer to buy himself some time while he searches his mind for a reply worthy of Sherlock’s declaration. It is still so hard to believe this wondrous man would ever be interested in John the way he so clearly is.

“But I’m so...ordinary,” John finally laughs, unable to think of anything more articulate. For all his intelligence, Sherlock completely disarms him.

“No, John,” Sherlock is shaking his head before the words are even out, “you are extraordinary.”

John looks at him with nothing less than adoration and gives him a radiant smile. He believes he knows Sherlock better than most, maybe even more than Victor Trevor had, the wanker, but he wants to know more. He wants to know every detail of this man and his life. Every thought and memory, every feeling, every inch of his body. God, his body. John saw so much of him last night and it wasn’t enough. He longs to explore Sherlock’s body again, worship it with his hands and his mouth.

John bites his lower lip and shakes away those thoughts. This is no time to get distracted by desire, especially when John is this confused. What he feels, what he wants is so much more than the physical. John wants Sherlock’s mind and soul. He wants to know everything, feel everything. He wants to share Sherlock’s life. John can already feel Sherlock with him, even when he is nowhere near, like he is a part of him. John feels him down into his bones. It’s like nothing he has ever felt before and it is breath-taking. 

What he has told Sherlock about his romantic life is true. He has devoted no time to dating during his time in the States. He put little effort into it in the UK, to be honest, but had dated off and on in uni and medical school. He really only felt anything for two or three of them and none of those feelings came close to what he feels for Sherlock. It is… What is it? John is so confused, his head spinning. What does it mean when you don’t just want to spend the night with someone, but every day too? To talk to him and learn about him more than you want to sleep with him? 

John looks at Sherlock and is damned if the coach doesn’t look like he knows every thought in John’s head. Sherlock could probably see it all plain as day as it flickered over his features. John huffs to himself in fond exasperation before making a small bow, befitting of Poe himself.

“Shall we?” John gestures toward the brick house before them. 

“Please,” Sherlock replies with a dazzling smile and his own stately bow. 

With the air between them cleared, they enter the house and pay admission. Soon their guide is leading them through a most fascinating tour. Though it is no longer furnished, it is not difficult to imagine what it looked like when Poe lived in it, between their guide’s descriptions and Sherlock’s additions. Not surprisingly, he knows a good many things the guide does not. To her credit, she smiles each time he begins speaking and waits patiently for him to finish. He is courteous as well, not interrupting her canned stories before jumping in. John appreciates it all until he begins to notice how her eyes stray from Sherlock’s face to glide down his body approvingly. Clearly impressed with more than just his knowledge of Poe, she begins flirting with Sherlock in more and more obvious ways as the tour goes on. 

When they stop to view Poe’s portable writing desk and chair, Sherlock moves closer to marvel at it. After the guide is finished with her speech, the coach begins mumbling about Poe’s writing habits and his works. It is truly fascinating how much Sherlock knows and John is more than happy to listen. He would gladly listen to Sherlock for days on end and never tire of it. The man’s voice caresses John’s very soul. Each sound is rich, smooth dark chocolate coating John’s ears with warmth.

Unfortunately, John does not have time to savor Sherlock’s voice or his words. A few sentences in and he notices their guide slowly moving in on Sherlock. Irritation wells up within him and John immediately has the impulse to touch Sherlock. Stake some sort of claim with a touch that is just intimate enough to say ‘Back off. He’s mine.’. Something that will definitely tell her to get the fuck away from Sherlock.

But he doesn’t. Sherlock is not his.

John just presses his lips together into a thin line and grumbles nearly inaudibly. He has no business being jealous. No place warding others away from Sherlock as though he were his. Sure, they spent the night together, that annoying voice in the back of his mind reminds him. They had sex, but that does not mean they are together. It does not mean Sherlock wants to do it again. They are able to step back into their lives and friendship seamlessly. This little jaunt proves it. There is no awkwardness between them, just some initial misunderstanding and then back to their kind of normal. If John is honest with himself, he has never felt so comfortable with anyone in his life. Not even Bill, and that realization strikes him with the force of a bullet.

“John?” Sherlock’s voice finally breaks through his thoughts.

“What?” John shakes himself back to the here and now, only to see both Sherlock and the guide looking at him curiously. He blinks once or twice, trying to devise from Sherlock’s face what might have been said.

“Are you ready to move on?” he asks him, obviously repeating himself.

“What? Oh, yes, yes. Move along,” John marches on with a vigor he doesn’t feel.

The three continue with what remains of the tour and soon the duo bids the guide farewell. None too soon for John, who notices her pressing a bit of paper into Sherlock’s hand under the guise of a friendly handshake. Her number, no doubt. Christ. John huffs and rolls his eyes before he can stop himself. He has largely kept his jealousy to himself. At least, he hopes Sherlock has not picked up on it. He has given no indication, but the git probably noticed the moment the woman began talking.

Sherlock and John step down the small staircase at the front of the house and head for a row of shops and restaurants a few blocks away. They walk in a comfortable silence, each left to his own thoughts. John’s mind wanders to the night before, this morning, the tour, the guide. He had been such a fool to leave Sherlock’s room the way he had. Hurrying from the bedroom and refusing coffee like he was ashamed or angry. Well, truth be told, he was angry about Sherlock’s deductions. He had not wanted him to know about Claire or the supposed baby. But why? John had done nothing wrong. Claire had lied, made up the baby and tried to trap him. He has nothing to be ashamed of, right?

Wrong. John was wrong. He was always wrong in a relationship. He kept himself closed off and his partner at arm’s length every time. Never letting anyone in and never actually giving himself fully to another person. Relationships can only last so long when one half isn’t all in. Claire had simply been the most persistent, but it had not worked either. She could not crack his shell. No one ever had and that was ultimately what John did not want Sherlock to know. If Sherlock saw that there was no hope of John ever loving him, if he saw that John was incapable of it, he would go. That is the truth of it. John really should not try to hide it, even in the interest of prolonging a relationship with Sherlock. It is dishonest and despicable. No better than the lies Claire tried to use to keep John. He will not be that person.

John shakes his head, trying to clear it. Lunch was meant to be a pleasant respite with a friend when he had originally suggested it. There would be plenty of time later, after the bout when John is trying to sleep in his own hotel room to think about his stunted emotions. John huffs. Not emotions plural, just one. John has absolutely no problem getting angry or feeling jovial, sarcasm, friendship - all within easy reach, but love. He loved his parents, of course. Everyone does. He had loved Bill, but not that way. 

Bill.

Could he have saved him? Would it have made any difference or is Sherlock right? Would he be dead too?

John blinks and pushes away the thoughts more forcefully this time. Now is not the time for nightmarish questions that will drive his mind into darkness. If John is going to think about Bill at all and how he fits into who John is today, he has to remain objective. If John had to guess, he would say losing Bill contributed, but he was already doing it before Bill. In fact, Bill seemed to have been the only exception and now Sherlock is too.

Sherlock.

He seems to be the exception to every rule, and he seems to encourage change in John with every passing day. Today’s is more obvious than any John has noticed to date. He simply does not get jealous as a rule. He probably hadn’t cared enough about any partner in the past to get jealous. Yes, he expects loyalty when he and a lover agree to be exclusive, which he and Sherlock have not done. John left Sherlock’s room before they had a chance to even consider it.

Why?

Why had he left like that? People say John is brilliant and Sherlock is very much his intellectual equal, if not more so. His ability to strategize and calculate is amazing, and John still wants to learn more about his mind palace. Surely he deduced John’s inability to love as soon as he learned of Claire. John had told him. He told him he didn’t love her, couldn’t love her. Couple that with the stories of his other relationships and Sherlock would know that a relationship with John is the worst mistake he could ever make. John’s breath leaves him in a rush. He simply cannot bear the thought. He wants to be with Sherlock. He needs to be with him, but...

“Stop it,” the words hit him like a freight train.

John nearly stumbles on the pavement when Sherlock’s deep baritone cuts through his spiraling thoughts. He looks up at his friend, not failing to notice how the wind blows his dark curls into an unruly frame around his face. John narrows his eyes marginally.

“What?” he asks, confusion clear on his face.

“Stop,” Sherlock repeats. “I can hear you thinking. Isn’t that what you said to me? Just stop before you come to some erroneous conclusion.”

“Erroneous conclusion?” John repeats incredulously. “I can reason things out just fine, thank you very much.”

“I was not suggesting that you couldn’t,” Sherlock looks at him evenly. He narrows his eyes. “But you do not have all of the data.”

John resists the urge to snap at him in favor of looking away and straight ahead instead. After a few moments of silence, John sighs and looks down at his feet.

“I should have stayed this morning,” he says quietly, still not turning his head to face the taller man. “We should’ve talked and that’s my fault.”

“Well, we could talk now,” Sherlock suggests, the smile evident in his voice and John finally turns to look at him, still expecting to be mocked somehow. Sherlock does look amused, but John should have known better than to think Sherlock would ridicule him. 

John gives him a small nod as Sherlock gestures to a nearby cafe simply called ‘A Taste of India’. What the name lacks, the air drifting from inside makes up for with warm spices and the scent of freshly baked naan. They are soon seated and indulging in some of the best Indian food John has ever tasted. 

Halfway into the meal, John wets his lips and leans forward in his chair. He glances down at his plate and then meets Sherlock’s eyes.

“Uh, we should,” he clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “We should talk.”

The corner of Sherlock’s mouth quirks up. John watches him, trying not to look nervous and probably failing miserably, judging by Sherlock’s expression. There is nothing John would like more than to change the subject and brush this off as he has done so many times in the past. He has run full-steam in the opposite direction, but Sherlock is so different. John is different too and he just doesn’t understand what any of it means. He has been allowed into this man’s life and knows what a gift it is, he treasures it with everything he has. Sherlock makes John feel  calm and free, whereas he has felt undeniably trapped with every other person he has dated.

John eyes the incredible man across the table as he elegantly slides a fork from between his plush lips and chews. John wonders at the feeling that blooms in his chest, all warmth and comfort.

Then he blinks and shakes his head a little.

“You said I didn’t have all the data?” John clears his throat, trying to get back on track.

“You didn’t,” Sherlock says simply. John huffs a quiet, disbelieving laugh as Sherlock leans in. “You are concerned about your past, about what I have learned of it, especially this morning.”

John swallows. Sherlock does not break eye contact or miss a beat.

“You’ve no reason to fear, John. No reason to hide. That is all behind you and has no bearing on us now,” he explains in a very serious tone. “It will not write our future or cloud my view of you. No relationship is exactly like another.”

If John’s brain was functioning properly, he would point out that all of his past relationships have been exactly the same for him. However, his brain has seized because Sherlock used the word relationship. He said it like it is something he wants, like it is already a thing, a real thing. He says it like last night was not a one-off as John had feared. Still with his track record, Sherlock cannot possibly mean that. Maybe he actually hasn’t put everything together yet, in which case it is John’s duty to tell him.

“Sherlock,” he finally says when his mind gets itself together, and it still is not firing on all cylinders, “there’s something you have to know about me.”

“Is there?” he tilts his head. “Please enlighten me.”

“When Claire, her name was Claire. When she told me she was pregnant it was because she wanted me to marry her,” John licks his lips and stares at his water glass like it holds all the answers.

“Yes…” Sherlock prompts him softly.

“I didn’t love her,” John stumbles on, sounding more ridiculous by the minute.

“Right,” an affirmation to continue, not a judgment.

“Sherlock, listen. I…” John stops to wrestle with the panic threatening to burst from his chest. “I didn’t love anyone. I have never loved anyone I’ve been in a relationship with. I can’t guarantee it will be any different if we...if we agreed…”

“To date?” Sherlock ventures. 

“Uh…” John is astounded by his bluntness. His mouth is suddenly dry and he clears his throat again. “Um, yeah, if you’d be interested. Are...are you interested?”

There is a sliver of hope in the words and hangs in the air between them. Sherlock opens his beautiful mouth to respond as the ringtone they both know to be Greg’s sounds. He had insisted on his own specific tone after Sherlock ignored one too many calls, which was not long after the lanky git was hired. John has caught shit on occasion for not forcing him to pick up.

“Damn it,” Sherlock mutters as he produces the offending device. “Greg, hello. Your timing, as always, is impeccable.”

“As long as you’re not having a quickie, I’d say I agree,” Greg laughs. Sherlock closes his eyes in resignation and, as if he can see him, Greg’s chortling ceases. “Oh, shit. You’re not on speaker?”

“No, I’m not on speaker,” Sherlock snaps his eyes open, “but for god sake, Greg.”

“Well, put me on,” Greg ignores his admonishment. “I want to go over the plan for tonight. I assume John is with you.”

“We have already done that,” Sherlock rolls his eyes. “What do you think we did last night?”

“I don’t know. What did you do last night?” Greg jokes. Sherlock’s eyes go wide and he does not answer. Greg’s voice comes over the line again, his tone suspicious. “Sherlock…”

Of course John hears none of Greg’s side of the conversation and can only guess at what he said to elicit Sherlock’s expression of shock. He is about to whisper an inquiry when the coach lays his mobile on the table.

“You’re on speaker now, Greg. You said you want to review the plan,” Sherlock prompts, impatience clear in his voice.

The remainder of lunch is spent talking through everything they spoke of the night before in the hotel bar. Their former conversation pushed aside in favor of discussing the bout plan with Greg, much to John’s chagrin. As much as he likes the GM and knows hashing out the plan with him is the right thing to do, John wants to know what Sherlock was going to say. Hen cannot get it off his mind. 

As they talk with Greg, John holds on to the hope that he and Sherlock can resume their conversation, but it is all in vain. By the time they are finished, John and Sherlock have just enough time to rush back to the hotel for a change of clothes, to collect the ladies and their gear, and hop the bus for the night’s venue. The ladies are scheduled for an extended warm-up before they take the track and Sherlock insists on keeping a schedule once he has made it. For his part, John tries to stay focused, but cannot get Sherlock’s last two words out of his mind.

“To date?”

Had his tone been hopeful, curious, dismayed? John can hear the words exactly, but cannot put an emotion to them. He tries not to talk himself into anything, recalling Sherlock’s assertion that he does not have all the data, but really only succeeds in talking himself out of things. He sighs as he watches warm-ups. It is going to be a long night.

---

Oh, just the idea that you’ll have all read it when you get to this is a relief. What did you think? Quite a different ending from the last two chapters, eh? Haha. Dear Jane took pity and didn’t leave you in the lurch this time. However, y’all need to brace yourselves. John was right when he said it’s going to be a long night. What? Is that foreshadowing, Jane? Da da DAAAAA! Damn you.

I hope this chapter finds you all well and provides a little respite, in spite of my not being able to provide Indian food with it. Mmm. I definitely recommend it though. Love, Jane

@zentris @221b-carefulwhatyouwishfor @tooolforthissh--stuff @shana-movershaker @melmey-fanfics @louise175dk @technicallywiseoncns @underestimatemethatwillbefun @jhamishw @weirdlittlegoofball @superwholockpotterincamelot @superwholocklmt @ladidragonuniverse @kittenmadnessandtea @srebrnafh @welcometomyharddrive @annecumberbatch @kingdomofbrokenhearts @philliphooper @whodwantmeasaflatmate @gloriascott93 @vvaticancameoss @cow-mow @echosilverwolf @spazzz32 @absentmindedstuff @swissmissing @shuukichan @maeliandmyself @wtgilsa @thetranslucentwallaby @red-pen-revolution @britishaccentfan @dischorde @plasticstrawsmuggler @youknowyougrow @francj96

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlockholmes #sherlock loves john #sherlock fanfic #sherlock au #sherlock roller derby #john watson #johnwatson #johnlock #johnlock au #john is confused

[ma-sulevin]

I really have nothing to say for myself.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Female Deputy Rating: E Warnings: Canon-typical violence, but nothing particularly explicit I don’t think Word Count: 6576, chapter eight of fourteen (I think).

Read it on AO3 instead and say nice things.

---

Boomer finds her before anyone else does. He flops right down by her side and heaves a great sigh, like he knows what she’s gone through and he’s tired of it too, and she lets her bare feet soak in the water of Clagett Bay while she pets his belly.

It’s peaceful, sitting in the quiet and listening to the birds singing and the occasional splash of a fish rising too close to the surface to get a bug, and if she was any other person sitting here under any other circumstances, she’d be able to relax.

But she’s not — she’s Mattie Covington, ex-EMT, junior deputy, would-be savior of Hope County, and she’s fucking furious.

She’s smoked through most of her cigarettes by the time Sharky shows up with Hurk at his side, feeling jittery and nauseated and fit to fucking burst. Sharky’s hopping out of the Jeep before it’s really parked, jogging over to her on his long legs while she stubs out her cigarette on the dock and hauls herself to her feet.

He wraps her up in a hug that first knocks her back a step and then lifts her off her feet, a hug so tight she can’t breathe but doesn’t care because she hadn’t realized how much she missed the lingering scent of sweat and kerosene until she has her face buried in the collar of his hoodie. She gasps out a sob, clenches her teeth to hold it back, unwilling to start crying now when they have so much more to do.

When Sharky finally puts her down, he only puts enough space between them to cup her jaw in his big hands. His eyes — blue like the Seeds’ but so much kinder, full of so much more warmth and love — scour her face like he can figure out everything she’s been through just by taking stock of the bruises, and then he kisses her right in the center of her forehead and she has to fight back the tears all over again.

“You good, chica?”

She shrugs a little. “I’m all in one piece.” It’s about all she can say at this point. She’s alive and uninjured beyond bruises and sore muscles, but she’s hungry and tired and so pissed she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She’s practically vibrating with it.

“C’mon now, don’t hog the deputy!” Hurk appears in Mattie’s line of vision, bouncing off to Sharky’s side. “It’s my turn for a hug!”

Sharky glances over his shoulder at him then gives Mattie a searching look before he lets her go. He steps aside and lets her walk past him, arms up to hug Hurk around the neck. He hugs her back with as much enthusiasm as he does everything else, squeezing hard enough to crack her back as he lifts her off her feet too. He shakes her a little, makes her laugh, then puts her down. 

“You damn near gave me’n Sharky a heart attack!” He says, loud, like any of this is under her control. “You can’t be letting Jacob’s guys get to you like that. A person’s brain can only handle being washed so many times before it gets all soggy!”

That’s not what she was expecting him to say, not even a little, and all the annoyance in her whooshes out in a burst of laughter that surprises all three of them. Boomer yips and jumps up to put his front paws on her chest, knocking her back until Sharky catches her with his hands on her shoulders and starts to laugh too.

She wipes her eyes as she catches her breath. “You’ll just have to help me bring him down, then. Think we can handle it?”

Hurk beams at her and rests his hands on his hips. “Oh, absolutely. I’m ready to go. What’s the plan, boss?”

She doesn't know. But she knows who does.

---

Eli’s suggestion for breaking down Jacob’s hold on the mountain is not that dissimilar to what Dutch told her to do in the valley: burn it to the ground. He gives her all the information they have about the cult’s activities in the Whitetails, the outposts and the supply lines and the wolf beacons, marking each one for her on a park map liberated from the Visitor’s Center.

Wheaty asks her to find him more music stashed throughout the mountains, in people’s cabins and in their bunkers, and she agrees with a laugh. He’s a cute kid and he doesn’t deserve to see all this shit happening around him. If he wants records to play over a Whitetail Militia radio station, then he’s going to get records to play over a Whitetail Militia radio station even if it kills her in the process (and, she knows, it probably will).

Jude asks about Staci again, eyes red-rimmed, and they cry together when Mattie says he’s still locked up. Jude doesn’t need to know the exact details. Staci’s doing what he can, and what he wants to tell Jude when Mattie finally gets him out of there is his business.

And she’s definitely going to get him out of there, no matter how many times she dies on the way.

Sharky is forbidden from using his flamethrower in the mountains with the woods so dry, and he pouts about it for as long as it takes him to come up with a plan to do as much damage as he can otherwise. He cheers up when Mattie promises he can use explosives on the wolf beacons, backing up her promise at the first one they find just south of the den.

The sound and sight of the explosion, and the peggie fight they get into afterwards, is worth it to see Sharky’s delighted cheer and little dance. These are the things she has to focus on if she doesn’t want to completely fucking lose it.

She can’t rescue Staci if she completely fucking loses it.

They find records here and there, and Mattie dutifully piles them up in the back of the Jeep. There are dozens, albums and artists she’s never heard of but that Hurk and Sharky occasionally recognize. Her music knowledge contains a huge blind spot from growing up in such a conservative place — basically everything before she became an EMT is a big empty space.

She doesn’t mention this to the boys.

She just lets them have their fun.

They don’t hear anything from Jacob again until after they take back the PIN-K0 radar station, blowing up several of his helicopters and leaving them to burn on the surrounding mountainside. Eli cheers her on over the radio, praising her, saying people are joining the Whitetails in greater numbers now that she’s out here giving them hope (“Actions speak louder than words!” he says, and she listens silently as she washes peggie blood off her face in the PIN-K0 bathroom), and as soon as he’s done encouraging her, Jacob takes his turn.

His voice is low over the radio, gravely, and she grimaces while she stands there listening. She crosses her arms and leans against the skin with her hip, turning the volume down so there’s less chance of Sharky or Hurk overhearing whatever the fuck is about to come out of Jacob Seed’s mouth.

“The human brain is a fascinating thing,” he says, tone so fuckin’ casual like they’re having this conversation over lunch. “Once you start poking around in there, it’s surprising what you get it to do under the right circumstances. You’re familiar with the term ‘classical conditioning,’ right, Deputy?” He doesn’t wait for a response, and why would he? He doesn’t care. This is about intimidation, not about having a real conversation with her. “It’s when a conditioned stimulus, say a song, leads to a reflective response. In this case… to train, to kill, to sacrifice.”

Well… okay. That’s fucking forboding. She tries not to think about what he’s training her for, but there are honestly only so many things. If he doesn’t want her at his side like he’s got Staci, then…

“You managed to escape for a little bit, but whenever I want, I can have you back here with me. But you’ve got time to play your little games; I’ll let you know when it’s time to come home. Only you…”

She wants to gag when he sings the first two words of that goddamn song, but she fights the impulse, swallowing hard as her mouth begins to water a bit. 

Eli said she’d been de-conditioned, but just hearing him say those words… Maybe she can get Wheaty to de-condition her again when she takes him all the records. He’ll probably do anything for her once he gets his hands on all these new albums.

Jacob doesn’t say anything else, and she doesn’t say anything back.

He doesn’t really want to hear what she has to say. He’s only interested in conditioning her for whatever he’s got planned and making her talk to Joseph to hear his fucking shitty life story.

She takes the radio with her and goes back to find Sharky and Hurk, who are already drinking while they wait for Eli’s boys to come take over the station. She joins them, drinking more slowly, and watches as they pass out in a snoring pile. 

She kisses Sharky’s forehead and brushes his messy hair away from his face, heart twisting when he smiles and murmurs her name in his sleep.

She’s just sitting on the side of the road when Jacob’s men come for her again. There’s no reason to put the boys in jeopardy this time.

---

She’s thoroughly unsurprised when she wakes up in Jacob’s cages, her brain fogged from who knows how many doses of bliss and her stomach sticking to her spine from hunger. Jacob’s methods have always been achingly simple: bliss, starvation, and dehydration, then the godawful simulation where she has to kill other captives and militia members alike (which unfortunately means more bliss).

She cannot wait to kill him.

She manages to turn her head to the side despite the aching, and the guy who was in her here with her last time is still here. He’s dead, and a wolf is gnawing on his leg, trying to pull him close enough to the bars to make a real meal out of him. She’s not scared or surprised, just jealous that the wolf gets to eat and she doesn’t.

She stares back up at the sky through the top of the cage and sighs.

If she’s awake now, she just has to wait until Jacob decides to show up.

He’s goddamn lucky she’s too hungry to fucking move. She wants to gouge his eyes out with her bare hands, maybe feed them to the wolves he keeps, maybe give them to Joseph as a present.

Is that too on the nose for Joseph, given his history of gouging people’s eyes out? Will he appreciate the stylistic choice?

She’s still thinking about this, staring up at the ice-blue sky, when she hears Staci’s quiet voice from near her feet. She pushes herself up onto her elbows, sweat breaking out on her forehead at the effort, and watches as he reaches between the bars with one hand to put a metal bowl full of… dog food? Undercooked ground beef? Something she’d normally never think of eating on the floor in front of her.

He gives her a wild look when she doesn’t move right away, pushing it forward once toward her.

She tries to remember what she’s seen on Naked and Afraid — a human body can go twenty-one days without food, but she doesn’t think it’s been quite that long. If she catches something from the food, that’ll dehydrate her, and she’s not keen on trying to fight off food poisoning or a parasite in the middle of Jacob’s camp.

He’s as likely to just dump her ass out in the woods as anything else if she gets sick, probably tell her that if she was strong enough she wouldn’t have gotten sick, like this is another one of his fucking Darwinian tests.

Staci’s not having it. “Eat!” he hisses, voice so low that no one in the other cages will be able to hear. He looks like shit, worse than she thinks she probably looks, and the rage she felt at Jacob a moment ago comes back full force. She uses it to push herself up and forward, aiming at grabbing Staci before he moves away from the bars, but he scurries back and stands up out of her reach.

“Staci, come—” she cuts herself off, snapping her teeth together when he shakes his head at her and assumes the same position he was in the last time she saw him, hands clasped together, shoulders back, head bowed. Jacob’s behind him, smirking, strutting up like he has all the time in the world like a goddamn fucking asshole.

This close, she can smell the meat, and her mouth waters again. She gives in and grabs a handful, intent on eating what she can before Jacob moves the rest of the way in and announces whatever he has planned for her.

She needs the strength, food poisoning be damned. Staying alive is more important.

She doesn’t know how much time she’ll get back if she does die, if the black white black will dump her back moments before death like usual or back to this point to eat the stupid food, or if starving to death instead of getting shot or strangled or stabbed or exploded will mean she’ll actually have to stay dead.

She doesn’t know the rules, but she’s not permanently dying because she thought she was too good to eat the food presented to her when shit got rough.

Half of it’s gone when Jacob sits down in front of the cage and fucking smirks at her.

“Seven days,” Jacob says, his voice the same cold drawl that always comes over the radio. “You must be hun gry .”

She glares at him and doesn’t respond.

Staci looks from her to Jacob and back again, hands clasped so hard his knuckles are white, then he takes a breath and moves to stand by Jacob’s side. Mattie keeps her eyes on him as she listens to Jacob’s monologue, watching as he picks up a knife and studies it before bringing the edge of it to Jacob’s neck.

Slit his throat, she wants to say, tries to tell him with her eyes, but he doesn’t look at her. 

“Did you know it takes ten days for civilization to collapse? Yup. You take away a man’s basic needs and he’ll revert to his primordial instincts in just ten days. It’s a difficult thing to understand unless you’ve lived it,” he adds, and Mattie wants to spit at him. What the fuck does he think she’s been doing?

“I was in Iraq during the first Gulf War,” he says, ignoring the dry scrape of Staci’s blade across his throat. “82nd Airborne, All-Americans, hoo-rah. One night, there was an ambush. Me’n this guy named Miller got separated from the unit, no food, no radio. Nearest base… two hundred klicks to the south, so we just start walkin’.”

Staci finishes tidying Jacob’s beard and goes to stand behind him again, hands clasped in front, head down. Mattie watches him instead of Jacob, doesn’t care whatever the fuck Jacob’s up to by telling her his sad fuckin’ backstory, just cares about how she’s going to get herself and Staci out of here at the same time.

“Well, by the third day I knew we were lost. Day six… ran out of water. You know what that’s like, don’tcha? Difficult to swallow.”

She does snap her gaze to him when he takes a long swig of water from a canteen and then spits it out just in front of her cage. Her lips are so dry she’s afraid they’re going to be permanently cracked, and he’s just spitting water for shits and giggles as part of his ongoing psychological torture experiment.

He might be the worst Seed.

“On the seventh day, Miller’s legs started going all wonky.” He moves in his chair to face her more directly, like he’s excited to tell this part of the story and wants to make sure she’s really paying attention. “Did ya know your brain starts to eat your muscles in order to survive?” He chuckles, looks her up and down once in a way she absolutely does not fucking care for, and adds, “That’s why you’re so goddamn skinny.”

She bares her teeth to him, and he smiles right back.

“And by the eighth day, the wolves were closing in, and I looked at Miller and I could tell we’re as good as dead. And I accepted that. And in that acceptance… came clarity. You see, I wasn’t just looking at Miller.” He stands, reaching through the bars of the cage to grab the front of her shirt, twisting and pulling as he goes to haul her to her feet. “I was looking at an opportunity. It wasn’t something I wanted… it was something that I had to do. It was… it was my test. Now you see, Miller’s sacrifice wasn’t about me walking out of that desert—”

Here, Staci hands Jacob the music box. He doesn’t look at Mattie when he does it, even though she sends him a look of outraged betrayal. How could he? Right now? While she’s trying to help him?

Jacob starts to wind the box as he talks, and she steps away, covering her ears with her hands. She can barely hear Jacob’s words, the growling of the wolf next to her. “It was about bringing me here. The weak have their purpose. You’ll understand that soon enough.”

He opens the music box, and she falls unconscious. 

There was bliss in the meat.

---

“Wake up, wake up! Open your eyes!”

She does, obedient still, bliss just faded out of her system enough for her to be able to force her body back to consciousness. She aches all over, her muscles, her stomach, her lips, her scalp… 

The phantom hotel comes back to her, the one she fought through before, the one she fought through again. Jacob’s voice praising her as she killed stranger after stranger, Staci yelling for her to kill, to hunt, to sacrifice.

“Wake up! Rook!”

Staci’s here, now, frantic whispers and hushed voice unlike how he was before. She rolls onto her front, forces herself up onto her hands and knees, then up to her feet as Staci pulls something out of his pocket and holds it up.

“I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” She just stares, silent. Is this a trap? Why now? “And we’re gonna get out of here, okay? Only you. Only you.”

Oh, Staci. Oh, Staci.

Even with what she’s lived through, she can’t imagine what Jacob’s done to him.

He’s finding his strength, fighting back, saving her life and saving his even though she came here to help him. She’s too tired to keep the tears from her eyes, just lets them well and spill over silently as Staci unlocks her cage and snaps at another man who wants to escape.

“You have to get out of here before it starts again. ” He sounds desperate, wild, almost feral, and she wipes at her face with dirty hands and nods at him, still silent, still obedient.

He tells her to follow him, and she does, winding through the compound without speaking another word to each other. She watches the way he walks, shoulders still hunched, eyes constantly scanning for people, watching to make sure he has everything right and they can really escape this time.

She thought Jacob broke him, but Staci was just biding his time.

She brushes away more tears as they walk into a building through a back door, pausing long enough for Staci to lock it back behind them so they won’t be followed, then up rickety stairs into an inner room.

Jacob’s room.

Mattie pushes the door shut behind her and Staci grabs her shoulders to stop her, to pull her attention to him.

“He knows you’re ready,” he says. “To do it. Look.” He pulls her to the closest desk, taps a picture of Eli right on the forehead. “The trials. See?” He pulls her to a map on the wall, covered with annotations, red string, pictures of Whitetail members. “He’s got it all planned out. He mimes holding a shotgun, gestures as he starts to talk faster and faster, “One, two, three. One two three. Onetwothree then he’s got you. It becomes second nature. Routine. He gets in your head. And you don’t even realize it.”

She shakes her head at him and he grabs her shoulders again. He shakes her, not hard, just enough to drive his point home. “You can’t go back, you understand?”

He tries to walk away and she follows him, stumbling over her own feet when he turns back and raises his voice. “You can’t ever go back!” Another tear slips free and he holds up a hand, a placating gesture that does little to calm her nerves. “Come on. The truck’s gotta be there, gotta get on the truck.”

He hands her a duffel bag, and she takes it, not sure what’s happening.

“It’s almost time.” He tugs her again, pulls her out onto a balcony overlooking the front drive of the compound, holds her elbow as he says, “I studied the route for weeks.”

She believes him. He’s had weeks to study it.

There’s a truck sitting across the circular drive, someone sitting patiently in the front seat. 

It’s their escape. It’s so close she can taste it, taste the freedom. She’ll be able to get Staci back to Jude, back to Joey, back to Earl and safety.

“It’s the only way out. You’ll be safe if you don’t—”

Far off cries cut him short, and he turns. Cold sweat breaks out over her body, dread seeping through every pore.

They know she’s gone.

Only one person would have let her out.

They’re coming.

“No, no, no, no, NO! Not yet, not yet!” Alarms blare, lights start to flash, the truck below them starts to move. Staci’s panicking, his plan unraveling, and she doesn’t know what to do or even what the plan was to start.

“Staci,” she croaks, voice so hoarse she barely makes any noise. “Staci?”

He doesn’t sound like he hears her, murmuring a heartfelt fuck as he tugs at his hair.

Only you… can make the world seem bright…

Her vision starts to flash red, pricks of white light floating around the edges, and she tries to reach for him, but he’s screaming and covering his ears.

It’s like he snaps out of it completely when her fingertips brush his elbow.

He stands up straight, arms by his side, and he stares at her, head cocked to the side. He says, simply, “Sorry,” and then pushes her off the balcony.

She falls without even a scream, unafraid but still trying to pull him with her, and hits the back of the leaving truck hard enough to go unconscious.

At least the song can’t reach her here.

---

She’s not sure how long she’s been unconscious, but it’s daytime, and when she rolls to stand she falls off the top of the truck and knocks her shoulder out of socket. She howls through gritted teeth, pushes herself upright while she holds her useless left arm with her right hand.

Her radio squawks alive from the duffle still looped around her shoulders.

“Deputy, you copy? It’s Eli. I dunno where you’ve gone and disappeared to, but shit, we really kicked the hornet’s nest. I know you’re probably out there trying to get your friend Pratt back, but us Whitetails could still use a hand. Anyways. You know where to find us. Talk soon. Over and out.”

His voice disappears in a burst of static, and she kicks a nearby rock in a fit of impotent rage.

Staci said she can’t go back, but she can’t stay away. She can’t kill Jacob without their help, can’t get him to come out of the Veteran’s Center to get him away from his men without their support. Saving Staci and stopping the cult’s activities here all hinges on killing Jacob Seed.

She kicks the rock again and sets out walking along the center of the road towards the Wolf’s Den, still cradling her left arm.

---

Sharky meets her down the hill from the militia hideout, hat missing and face grim. He skids to a stop in front of her, but she just keeps going until she bumps into his chest and leans her entire weight against him, trusting him to hold her up. He does, arms around her back and chin on top of her head. She ignores the lingering pain and nuzzles her face into his chest, inhaling to get his scent deep into her lungs.

“Jacob gotcha?” Sharky’s voice is a whisper, or as close to a whisper as he ever gets, and she nods against his chest. His arms tighten around her, jostling her bad shoulder. She whines but doesn’t pull away, doesn’t tell him what the problem is because she doesn’t want him to push her back.

“Last time, I woke up in Boshaw Manor. This time, Hurky and I woke up at the radar station still, hungover’n cold, and you weren’t anywhere we could find you.” She tucks her face harder against his chest as he continues carefully, like he’s choosing each word before he says it instead of spitting them all out like he usually does. “We looked… all over the mountain for you, talked to that girl who runs the bait shop now, and the guy at the FANG Center, and Jess, and I like her’n all, but she’s scary sometimes…” He cuts himself off and she feels him sigh before he starts again. “How did Jacob manage to get you without hurting the rest of us?”

Silence stretches between them, Sharky holding out longer than she’d have guessed was possible before she makes herself answer.

“I just… I knew he was coming for me, so I just went out and had a smoke after you fell asleep.”

Another long, long pause.

“So he would have an easier time kidnapping you?”

“So you wouldn’t get hurt.” She does pull away then, standing up straight and taking a half-step back so she can see him. His lips are pressed together in a thin line, lines around his eyes deepening the longer she watches him. “Sharky, I—”

“I can’t get hurt,” he says, cutting her off, voice getting louder. She tries to shush him, but he keeps going, talking over her: “We could’ve stopped them from taking you! You didn’t have to give up!”

“I didn’t give up, Sharky! I was just trying to keep you safe.”

“You let them take you away from me!”

“They were going to take me anyway! They have every other time! I just saved you having to drive back over here from the Henbane!” She’s too tired for this, and tears pool in her eyes once more, spilling over and wetting her cheeks.

“Shit, Mat, I wanna keep you safe too. You understand?” She nods, miserable. “You think I felt safer runnin’ around the mountain looking for you?”

She shakes her head, miserable. “I’m sorry.”

He heaves a heavy sigh, reaches out with both hands to wipe at her tears. She leans into the touch, sniffling, and follows him when he says, “C’mon, let’s get your arm looked at.”

Inside the Wolf’s Den, Eli pops her shoulder back into socket for her, grimacing sympathetically when she suddenly bursts into tears at the feeling. He leaves her alone with Tylenol and Sharky and permission to use the Den’s showers, and then he makes himself scarce.

By the time she’s taken her medicine and emerged clean from the shower, Sharky’s smiling again, argument apparently forgotten. She curls up against his chest and goes to sleep, exhausted down to her very bones.

She doesn’t know what else to do.

---

They spend two more days in the Wolf’s Den, radios off, letting Mattie gain her strength back. She sleeps more than she has since the helicopter crash, waking up every now and then to find Sharky and cuddle up against him once more. He sits, patient and vibrating with energy, combing his fingers through her hair until she finally wakes up to eat.

They make love quietly the morning before they leave, murmured words of love and apology passed from kiss to kiss with each breath. He moves inside her with slow thrusts while she clings to his shoulders, legs locked around the back of his thighs, muffling their moans with lips pressed tight together.

She comes near silent, just a gasp of Shaky’s name in his ear, and he follows her, burying a moan into the side of her neck as he spills fruitlessly into his condom.

They dress quietly, check their weapons and ammunition before moving to find Eli. They find Wheaty first, who pushes through a face red enough to let her know they weren’t as quiet as they thought to ask for more vinyl if they find it, and then they find Eli who points to more things on their map for them to take care of, someone at the old Grandview that needs to be rescued.

It’s really never ending.

They leave without an argument.

---

Jess finds them again near the hotel, announces her presence by shooting a rabbit as it tries to run across the path in front of Mattie and disappear into the underbrush. Mattie freezes when the rabbit falls dead, then turns and glares behind her as Jess emerges from the tree line with a grin.

“Well, fuck you, too,” Mattie greets. 

Jess snickers. “You had Sharky all worked up while you was gone. I thought you could use a good scare.”

Mattie grimaces, then gives Jess a light punch to the arm. If she was anyone else, she’d give her a hug. “Comin’ with?”

“Yep.” Jess picks up the rabbit and pulls her arrow free. “Figured you could use the help.”

“Thanks, man!” Sharky says, sounding as cheerful as ever.

She cocks her head and looks up at him from under her hood. “You got your flamethrowin’ license, Sharky?”

He beams at her, absolutely grins with all his teeth showing, and Mattie’s already muffling her laugh when he says, “I don’t need one.”

Jess looks from Sharky to Mattie, who nods with a shrug, still laughing because this is so far out of her control and the opposite of what she thought her life in Hope County would be like, and then she looks back at Sharky and deadpans, “Well that’s fucken terrifying.”

Sharky booms with laughter, and the girls join him. The sound attracts something from nearby, the underbrush rustling in a way that makes Mattie pull her handgun up in case it’s one of those white wolves, and then Boomer leaps out from behind the nearest tree onto the they’re on and spins in an excited circle. 

“Oh, there’s my boy!” Mattie holsters her gun again and reaches for Boomer with both hands. He jumps up to put muddy front paws on her chest and licks her face while she laughs and scratches behind his ears.

Behind her, Sharky makes a vague noise of disgust. “You know dogs spend most of the day licking their own assholes, right?”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t do the same if you could.” She glances over her shoulder at him and winks as he splutters and then bursts into laughter again, grinning and shooting a wink at Jess who looks like she isn’t sure whether she should laugh or be disgusted too. She settles on a sigh and a little chuckle, and Mattie considers the joke a success.

With their little group now twice as large, it takes them a few more minutes to get settled into a plan, but they agree to take the Grandview back the same way they took the Elk Jaw Lodge. It’s a solid plan, one that’s proven to work, and they walk the rest of the way there with as much silence as they can possibly manage.

(It’s not much silence. Sharky chatters and Jess sends back sarcastic comments while Mattie tries to muffle her laughter. It’s a wonder Jacob’s men don’t intercept them on the way to the hotel.)

The place is crawling with peggies even before they get there, and they spend a good thirty minutes scouting the place out before even making plans. Mattie watches the guards through her binoculars, checks out the stacks of materials waiting outside, tries to figure out the best way to get in without anyone getting hurt.

Just because they always start over again doesn’t mean it’s pleasant.

She wants to avoid that gun wrenching pain of seeing Sharky bleeding out. If she never feels that kind of anguish again, it’ll be too soon.

She leaves Jess covering the outside of the building, picking off stray peggies, and sneaks into the hotel with her pistol in her hand. She plays the world’s worst game of hide and seek with the cultists inside, sneaking around behind their backs, hiding behind furniture, ducking behind open doors and holding her breath when cultists get too close.

The man she was sent to find is tied to a chair on the third floor, unguarded, surrounded by a sound system set up to play one of Jacob’s lessons over and over while the same images she remembers from her first kidnapping session play on a loop. There’s blood dripping down his face from his eyes and his ears, and seeing him there makes a chill go down her spine, nausea roll in her stomach. 

This is where Eli and Wheaty found her.

This is what they were doing to her.

She switches the tape he was being forced to listen to with the one Wheaty gave her, and the soothing sounds of metal music blast through the hotel’s sound system. 

She turns the volume up.

Fuck the peggies.

The lyrics of “Get Free” echo around the property, and she can’t hear over it to see where anyone else is. She lowers herself to a crouch and tries to go out the way she came, but a peggie literally trips over her as they try to walk through the same door at the same time.

His steel-toed boot makes solid contact with her calf and they both fall, but she recovers faster, spinning to put herself on top of him before he can use his size against her. She pulls a knife free of her boot and shoves it straight through the soft part of his throat and rips it out again. He gurgles, eyes wide and blood spewing from the wound and his mouth to splash against her face, but she can’t even bring herself to care. 

She stabs him again to put an end to his misery, wipes her blade on his shirt, and tucks it back in its place.

Once she makes it to the second floor, she can hear the peggies scrambling, shrieking at each other to be heard over the music, and she uses their distraction to start picking them off one by one.

Eli’s voice comes over her radio and she has to duck behind a couch and hold the receiver up to her ear to hear him warning her more peggies are coming from the lake with boats and helicopters.

They really don’t want her to take this hotel from them, but they’re shit out of luck.

Whatever hell she’s trapped in means they have absolutely no way of winning.

I’m gonna get free, I’m gonna get free, I’m gonna--

She’s exhausted to the point of shaking by the time the last peggie sniper is dead and Eli radios back to let her know his men are coming to get Briggs. She hasn’t fully recovered from her last trip to Jacob’s compound, her body protesting the abuse by threatening to shut down no matter what’s happening around her, with cold sweat dripping into her eyes and bile at the back of her throat.

Sharky spots her first as soon as she steps out of the tree line back into the Grandview’s parking lot, thrusts his shotgun into Jess’ surprised hands so he can jog over and catch Mattie when the vertigo makes her too weak to stand up. She falls forward into his embrace, and he scoops her up like she weighs nothing.

Maybe Jacob’s right and she is too goddamn skinny.

The thought makes her giggle, then she can’t stop, nearly delirious as Sharky carries her inside and sets her down on a couch that’s covered in dust and blood. He starts pawing at her face and torso, checking for wounds as she squeezes her eyes closed and tries to force herself to stop laughing. 

“This ain’t funny,” he snaps, voice tense and gruff. 

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” Mattie tries to protest but he doesn’t listen, and when she opens her eyes to give him a reassuring smile Jess is standing almost directly above her looking right down at her too.

Eli’s voice comes back over the radio, praising her even as Jess and Sharky try to figure out whether she’s actually injured or not. She manages to wave them off and grabs for her radio again, the world not spinning so fast now that she’s horizontal.

“You know, you proved everyone wrong, Dep, everyone except me. Always knew you were the real deal. I’ll see you back at the Den, soldier. Take care.”

Mattie’s just pushing the talk button down to say she needs some time before they can make it back when she hears the tell-tale thwap of an arrow flying by and finding its mark. Jess drops from Mattie’s field of vision with a silent cry, mouth open and eyes unseeing as a peggie arrow ends her life as unceremoniously as Mattie has ended every peggie’s life so far.

Mattie opens her mouth to scream for Sharky, but he’s already starting to pull Mattie from the couch to shield her body with his. She lets him manipulate her the way he wants, even though she knows it’s useless. She wraps her arms around him and presses a kiss to his cheek as more arrows sail through open windows and hit the couch, the wall behind them, and finally his shoulder.

She tries to yank it free, more worried about the bliss on the tip than any blood loss that will follow its removal, but he goes limp over her. Her body runs cold again, reacting even though she knows he’ll likely wake up in the hotel with a headache and anger at the peggies, and she bites her tongue until she feels blood to keep herself from screaming.

They should have just run.

An arrow hits her shoulder as she starts to shimmy out from under Sharky’s body, and she makes it halfway out before unconsciousness claims her. 

#sharky boshaw #sharky x deputy #far cry 5 #oc: mattie covington #my writing

[dvp95]

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 13 (now complete)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, deeper than anticipated but still not that deep y'all this is primarily silly, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 6,375 for this chapter (59,473 total) (damn, i was really hoping to hit 60k)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"Do you need to do some laundry before bed?" Phil asks, stirring vegetables with the kind of dubious intensity that Dan recognises from setting one too many meals on fire himself. "Or is all your stuff dry-clean only?"

"Very funny," says Dan. He's keeping an eye on the rice, but it requires much less effort. "Yeah, I could do a load tomorrow."

Phil looks up from his skillet for the first time since he turned the heat on. "Tomorrow? Dan, you leave tomorrow."

"Not til like two," Dan says with a little shrug.

The way Phil is looking at him makes him laugh. He's never seen the man's eyes so wide and anxious, so like a deer in headlights. Dan gently nudges him away from the hob by the hip and takes over vegetable watch.

"Dan," Phil says again, "that's not very much time. You don't want to pack tonight?"

"It sounds like you probably want me to pack tonight, Phil," says Dan. "I'm good at throwing things together last minute, though. I'm not worried about being late."

"I'm worried about you being late," says Phil. "Wouldn't it be easier to pack tonight and just hang out tomorrow?"

Dan smirks and tosses the rice in with the vegetables and sauce, just to get it all stirred together. One of Phil's hands is settled on the small of his back as he needles Dan about this, and it all feels so disgustingly domestic that Dan almost can't handle it.

"Uh huh," he says, trying not to let the fondness seep too much into his tone. "So, what you're saying is, you want me to do my laundry tonight so you can keep me in bed all morning?"

"Yes, but also, I've got time anxiety," Phil chuckles. He presses a kiss to the back of Dan's neck, which makes him shiver.

"You've got anxiety about the concept of time? Honestly, same."

"Stupid," says Phil. He isn't trying to hide the fondness the way Dan is, the affection coming off him in waves as he presses himself into Dan's side, drops a kiss to Dan's shoulder. "That too, I suppose, but I mean about being late. I always have my stuff packed like, two days in advance."

"Absolutely cannot relate," Dan says, biting his lip to try and hide a smile. "But yeah. I can do a load so you're not anxious about my unpacked suitcase all night."

That's not something he would normally offer, because Dan is almost never actually late and he's just fine with his current method of timekeeping, thanks, but he'd rather keep Phil in the best possible mood. And, okay, maybe it does sound kind of nice to just have a lie-in without running around to try and grab all the things he's somehow strewn across the flat in these short days.

It's strange, actually. Dan has spent a lot of his adult life on other people's couches and in hotel rooms, and he's good at keeping his stuff compartmentalized because of that. Something about how comfortable he feels here has him treating it like it's his own home. He's absolutely certain that Phil doesn't mind, if he even notices - it's not exactly obvious that Dan's chargers and straighteners and toothbrush haven't found their way back to his bags when Phil's junk is strewn across every possible surface.

Dan bumps his hip into Phil's and turns off the hob. "You ready to eat?"

"Literally always," says Phil. His hand leaves Dan's back, and Dan feels a bit bereft for it.

Still, he supposes, joining Phil on the sofa to watch some MasterChef while Thor acts like he isn't quietly begging for scraps isn't the worst way to spend an evening. In fact, if that's the only way Dan wants to spend all his dinners from here on out, nobody has to know.

--

Dan takes a shower while Phil goes on a walk with the dog, and he spends more time zoning out than he does actually washing himself. His phone is blaring a playlist he doesn't even remember making, and while it has some real bangers on it, he keeps getting distracted trying to track down the memory of it in his brain. Then, of course, his mind just drifts from there.

He thinks about his family, about the emails he still hasn't checked, about Adrian spouting bullshit profoundness down a phone line. He thinks about Heatwave, and his role in the whole mess of it, and what Amy will say when he tells her that he doesn't want to be a part of it going forward. He thinks about London, about the way the city has felt like an eventuality before but not quite like this, about how Phil is really what makes it feel like a place Dan can settle down and build a life for himself.

Most of all, Dan thinks about how much it is going to suck to be away from Phil for however long they have to be.

Long distance relationships aren't exactly Dan's forte. Which, okay, to be fair, relationships generally are not exactly Dan's forte, but he understands how this part works. He understands sex and cuddling and kissing, even if it all feels like the dial has been turned up to eleven with Phil, but he's not a hundred percent sure how to keep this sort of energy when they're an entire ocean apart. Dan is kind of a jealous person with a yo-yo of self esteem, and Phil is a very handsome and charming man who surely has far better prospects than talking to Dan on Skype until he falls asleep.

And that thought process isn't one Dan really needs to go down, is it.

He decides to try and trace back an inside joke to its inception while he washes his hair, because surely that's a better use of his time than heading down a rabbit hole of insecurity. He's still pondering that when there's a knock at the bathroom door and it opens.

"Hey, Dan?" Phil's voice comes, just loud enough to be heard over the shower and the music. Dan's eyes are closed so he doesn't get any fucking shampoo in them, and he has no idea if Phil is looking at him through the glass screen or not. He makes a noise to indicate he's heard Phil and tilts his head forward to start rinsing his hair. "You want me to throw your clothes in for you now? I can leave you something of mine to wear."

"I'd take something of yours anyway," Dan says, dry. He keeps his eyes closed. If he doesn't look, then he can live in a world where his boyfriend is checking him out just for the hell of it. Dan doesn't mind being watched by the right eyes.

"Of course you would. Anything that can't go in the wash?"

Dan grins and shrugs, even though Phil might not be looking at him. "I mean, read the fucking labels, mate. But yeah, none of my dress shirts."

"Got it." There's a beat of relative silence for so long that Dan starts to wonder if Phil has managed to leave the room without making noise - not Phil's strong suit at the best of times - but then he speaks again, low and amused. "If I were a murderer, Dan, you'd be so dead right now. Why are you facing the tap, you absolute freak?"

Water goes up Dan's nose when he laughs, and he's sure the sound of him cough-laughing isn't exactly attractive. He turns around and cracks an eye open to check if Phil is laughing at him or not.

Phil is resting against the bathroom counter with his arms crossed and a smirk playing around his pretty lips. If Dan were not acutely aware of the injuries it would cause, he'd whinge until Phil joined him under the spray.

"I'm just having a face the tap kind of day," he informs Phil, making sure his hair is completely devoid of any shampoo that might sneak-attack his eyes and make him look even more hilariously incompetent than he already does. "You just gonna stand there and look at me?"

"Tempting," says Phil. He leans over and picks up the pile of clothes that Dan had discarded beside the bath mat. "But one of us needs to get this done."

"Oi, I said I'd do it."

The grin Phil sends his way makes Dan's knees feel a bit wobbly, like he's a teenager all over again. "I know. I didn't believe you."

Honestly, that's fair. Dan is better at putting things off than he is getting off his ass to do it right away. He pretends to be offended, anyway, because it's more fun than conceding defeat. "Excuse me? I'm a man of my word, Philip."

"I believe you'd do it eventually," says Phil. "But if I do it now, then you can be naked in my bed once you're done wasting all my hot water. See? I think ahead."

"Go away," Dan laughs.

"I'm doing a nice thing!" Phil protests, but he's laughing too. He lets his gaze drift over Dan's body again, unapologetic about checking him out in a way that makes Dan's heart beat a bit faster, and then he's gone. The door closes behind him, and Dan covers his face with both hands to hide his blush from the empty bathroom and Frank Ocean's crooning.

God, he's so far gone for this guy. It's genuinely fucking ridiculous.

He doesn't spend too much more time in the shower, because his boyfriend is waiting for him. And, fuck, that still feels so goddamn weird to think. Boyfriend. Dan has a boyfriend. It's actually surreal.

Dan dries himself off and wraps the towel around his hips, because Phil hasn't come back to give him pyjamas. He turns off his mystery playlist and pushes wet curls off his forehead before he leaves the fogged-up bathroom.

"He emerges," Phil jokes, barely looking up from his phone. "Clothes are in the dresser if you want to put them on."

"If I want to?" Dan repeats with a big grin. He likes looking at Phil's long legs spread over his colourful bedsheets, glasses perched on his nose and his hair sticking up a bit at the back. He looks comfortable and soft, and Dan truly considers throwing on something soft and curling up for another nap. Or sleep, at this point, if Phil lets him sleep through the night. But he's leaving so soon, he wants more than that. "Yeah. I don't really want to."

The way Phil's lips twitch make Dan feel certain that Phil didn't really want him to, either. He puts his phone aside and raises his eyebrows at Dan. "C'mere, then."

As tempting as it is to just collapse into Phil's lap right away, Dan is getting the hang of this 'sharing a small space with a dog' thing. He has to use treats and toys to lure Thor out of the room this time, gamely ignoring Phil's snickers at his attempts. Thor is so dubious at this point, not particularly enjoying being put away, but he eventually does follow Dan into the bathroom and curl up with his rope and a reproachful look at Dan. It's very distracting, but Dan manages to remember to grab a couple of condoms. The lube is still on one of the nightstands, on the side Dan has been trying pretty hard not to think of as his own.

"You know," Dan says as he hangs his towel on a hook, closes the bathroom door behind him. "When I get a place in London, it's going to have more than two rooms. So even if you do bring Thor over, we can shut a door without him getting mad at me."

"I think he'd get mad anyway," says Phil. He sounds distracted, looking Dan over again, and Dan preens a bit under the attention.

It's not that Dan doesn't know what he looks like. He's not going to win any awards for his face or body or whatever, but he's not exactly a bridge troll. He's seen himself on screen and heard enough people talk about him in complimentary ways that he knows, more or less, the way people tend to react when they look at him, but.

Just like everything else, it feels like so much more with Phil. Normally, Dan feels anywhere from gratified to indifferent by people finding him attractive, but when Phil looks at him like that, he just feels... wanted. In a really, really good way.

"Probably," Dan says, putting a hand on his hip. His pulse jumps at the way Phil's eyes track the movement, how they linger on Dan's dick. So what if he's getting a bit hard just from being looked at? Dan doesn't mind being watched by the right eyes, and Phil's are definitely the right eyes. He can't find it in himself to be embarrassed about it, not when Phil doesn't seem to find it funny in the slightest.

"Come here," Phil says again, more firmly.

Dan does as he's told, straddling Phil's thighs and grinning at him. He takes Phil's glasses off his face, puts them and the condoms on the nightstand for safekeeping. Phil blinks a bunch and grins back at him.

"You're wearing a lot of clothes," Dan notes, toying with the collar of Phil's shirt. He hasn't changed all day, and as much as Dan likes looking at him in this tacky print, he'd much prefer to see the pale skin and downy hair and shock of metal beneath it. "That's gonna be a problem."

"Oh, is it?" Phil teases, running his cool hands over Dan's thighs, his flank, his ass. It's like he can't decide where to settle them, not that Dan is complaining about the exploration.

"Yeah, but don't worry, I can fix it." Dan flicks the buttons of Phil's shirt open, pressing his lips to Phil's collarbone as soon as the bright fabric is out of the way. He feels Phil exhale as one of his hands tangles loosely in Dan's hair.

The texture of Phil's jeans feels weird against Dan's bare inner thighs. He leans forward a bit so less of his skin is touching denim before doing something he hasn't done since he was a literal teenager. He bites down rather gently on Phil's pale collarbone and soothes it with his tongue, giving Phil plenty of opportunity to protest before he goes in properly to leave a mark.

Dan finishes unbuttoning Phil's shirt while he sucks and nips at Phil's clavicle, and he lets his large hands map out the rest of Phil's torso while he darkens the bruise to his satisfaction.

Little sighs keep escaping Phil's lips as he runs his fingers through Dan's damp hair, and Dan is sure that he would have been tugged away by now if this wasn't good for Phil, too. Dan brushes his fingertips over Phil's ribs and bites down harder, just to see where the line is.

Phil's breath hitches. Otherwise, he doesn't really react.

"You're like a vampire," he comments, his voice low and dry and very, very attractive to Dan. "Do you bite all the boys?"

"Nah," Dan murmurs, nosing at the small, blossoming bruises. He likes the way they look, hopes that Phil will send him photos later with them on display. "Just you. Want you to think about me while I'm gone."

"Trust me," says Phil. "That was never going to be a problem. D'you like getting them, too, or do you just like giving them?"

What a perfect set up to a shitty joke. Dan's favourite. He grins wide and winks up at Phil, tweaking Phil's nipple ring as he does. "Oh, I'm versatile."

Even with his shirt pushed open, his cheeks pinked, his eyes dark and intense despite not being able to see much of anything, Phil manages to roll his eyes. "Yeah, alright. D'you want a hickey or not?"

"Yes, please," Dan says cheerfully. "Nowhere I might accidentally flash to a camera."

Phil hums and looks Dan over, thoughtful. Dan feels his dick twitch at the attention and resists the ridiculous urge to cover himself.

"Okay," says Phil, patting Dan's thighs decisively. "Lie down."

"Sounds good to me, my dude," says Dan. He laughs as he rolls off of Phil and onto his back, suddenly remembering something he'd said to Phil on what he now knows was their first date. "Never sit when you can lie down, am I right?"

"You are right," Phil says dryly. He shrugs off his shirt and lets it fall to the floor. "You are also very annoying."

"Is this because I dude-zoned you?"

Phil's lips twitch, and he smacks at the general direction of Dan's thigh. He misses, hits the mattress instead, and Dan can't hold back a snort. Phil's depth perception is shot without his glasses, and Dan is so endeared by his confused blinking.

"Where are you?" Phil murmurs, mostly to himself, and stretches his hand out to connect with Dan's hip. "Aha. There you are. Got you."

"I literally was not moving." This time, the slap does connect with Dan's thigh. He doesn't really mind, but he makes a big show of sulking about it anyway. "Ow, rude."

"As if that hurt," Phil says dismissively. He trails his hand over Dan's hip and lower stomach before he moves to settle between Dan's legs, as if he's using his palm to map out where he needs to be.

Okay, yeah, Dan can work with this. He wiggles to get more comfortable and arches a bit into Phil's touch.

This always makes Dan feel so vulnerable. He knows that Phil can't see him clearly, but that doesn't seem to matter to that sense of shame that Dan still hasn't managed to eradicate. Phil presses his lips to Dan's thigh and Dan spreads his legs wider in response, blushing furiously and thanking his lucky stars that Phil probably won't notice it.

Dan knows what he wants, and normally he'd have no trouble asking for it, but he's nervous. It's hard to focus completely on the wet suction of Phil's mouth on his inner thigh when all Dan can think about is how terrifying this is to him. He can't figure out the source of the anxiety at first, mind drifting down various paths the way it had in the shower, but he's jolted back into the present when the sharp edge of Phil's teeth press against his skin.

Suddenly, it's obvious. Of course this is nerve-wracking. Everything that he's felt with Phil has been more intense than anything he's felt before, from such simple things as holding hands to the feeling of Phil's cock in his mouth, and Dan already knows how much he likes being fucked. He's nervous about, like, blacking out or doing something else stupidly embarrassing like that.

Phil pulls back to look at the mark he's left on Dan's inner thigh as best as he can without perfect vision, and Dan tries his best to ignore whatever notions of shame and fear still try to make him feel like less for enjoying something like this.

"Hey," he says, reaching for the bottle of lube before he can lose his nerve. "While you're down there, might as well make yourself useful."

It takes a bit of squinting, but Phil snorts a laugh when he figures out what Dan is holding out to him. "I thought I was already being useful," Phil says, "but sure, whatever you say."

"Don't act like it's a hardship," Dan huffs. He shifts down a bit, getting his hips in a more comfortable position. He can see a red flush all over his chest, and he bets his face looks even worse. He needs to keep fighting back that embarrassment, that shame. That fear of it being so good he won't know how to act. He doesn't want to tell Phil everything, but he wants to somewhat explain himself in case Phil can tell he's acting weird. "Though, like, guess you should know that it's been a while."

"How long we talking?" Phil hums as he brushes his thumb over Dan's dick, teasing.

"Uh," says Dan. "Like, uni."

That makes Phil sit up a bit and furrow his brow in the general direction of Dan's face. "Dan, that's almost -"

"I know," Dan groans, covering his red face with both hands. "I know it's been almost ten fucking years, Phil, but I'm not going to fucking - break, or freak out, or whatever. I do fuck myself, okay, it's just been since uni that another person's done it for me."

"Okay," Phil says, his voice soft and soothing. He squeezes Dan's thighs and leans in to press a chaste kiss to the pudge of Dan's tummy.

"Okay?" Dan repeats, his heart beating way too fast to match Phil's serenity.

"Yeah, okay," says Phil. He smiles. "You say you're okay, I believe you. Just keep talking to me, okay? And you can change your mind whenever."

Dan swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. Fuck, he shouldn't be getting so emotional just because someone about to fuck him is treating him gently, but he might have more issues around this than he'd thought he did. He reaches down to tangle his fingers with Phil's, squeezing both of his hands.

"Oh, so now you want me to talk?" he teases.

His voice doesn't come out nearly as conversational as he wants it to, but Phil is kind enough not to draw attention to it. Instead, he just asks, "You want me to suck you off? Give you something else to focus on?"

"Are you that coordinated?" Dan asks, trying his best to get the light atmosphere back. He can't deal with the weight of emotion right this second, not when he's leaving so fucking soon. He's got enough emotions to deal with about that, he doesn't need to add more onto his plate. He isn't exactly 'good' with 'emotion'.

Thankfully, Phil laughs. He pinches Dan's thigh, close to where he'd left a bruise but not quite on it. "Hey, fuck you."

"That's what I'm saying," Dan laughs too, wiggling his hips. "Fuck me."

Phil still isn't looking directly at Dan's face, but his reassuring little grin still hits Dan as hard as it would have if they were staring into each other's eyes. He settles back down between Dan's spread legs and taps at Dan's thigh.

"Lift," he instructs, and Dan knows he's blushing even deeper as he hooks a leg over Phil's bare shoulder, making things a bit easier on both of them. God, but the vulnerability is so much worse like this. Dan likes being looked at by the right eyes, but the feeling of being on display like this makes him squirmy somewhere in his gut. Phil hums against Dan's thigh, presses soft kisses over it until the muscle relaxes. "Be easier if you put the condom on for me, yeah?"

All too happy to have something to focus on that isn't the feeling of Phil's fingers brushing over his balls, Dan does as he's told.

It's easier like this, it really is. Phil is working by touch more than sight, and that becomes doubly true when Dan's dick is in his mouth and he's got his pretty, unfocused eyes closed. Dan fights back the panic threatening to overtake him, because this is just Phil.

It's just Phil. And more than anyone else he's ever met, Dan thinks that he probably trusts this man the most. He tangles his fingers in Phil's soft bedding, breathing deeply and doing his best to relax when Phil goes ahead and rubs his fingers over Dan, presses a tiny bit inside him, makes a questioning sort of noise around Dan's cock.

"Yeah," Dan breathes, letting his own eyes fall closed so he can just think about how good this feels. "It's good, you can keep going."

And it is. It's really, really good. Dan already knows he likes this, knows that a finger inside him while a hot mouth is wrapped around his cock is one of the better things for him in bed, but Phil sure does turn this up to eleven, too.

Phil isn't even trying to get him off right now, is the thing. He's sucking Dan lazily, keeping his cock warm more than actually blowing him, and his finger - fingers, after a minute, and that slight stretch makes Dan bite back a truly mortifying noise - aren't seeking out Dan's prostate, but none of that makes this any less good for Dan.

He doesn't treat Dan like he's made of glass, and Dan appreciates that almost as much as he appreciates the steady thrum of pleasure coursing through him as Phil gets him ready. He had been a bit wary that admitting the length of time would make Phil gentle and nervous, as if Dan were a bloody virgin or something, but he should really stop projecting so many of his own anxieties on a man who is clearly more well-adjusted than Dan.

The only thing Phil does is slow down when Dan has been quiet for too long, make some prompting noises, pull off him to remind Dan to breathe with him. It's considerate in a way that doesn't make Dan feel embarrassed and smothered, and Dan could fucking kiss him for that. In fact, he will, as soon as Phil comes back into kissing distance. Dan could never articulate any of this to Phil, of course, but he can kiss him until he gets the general idea.

Dan babbles. Of course he does, he's been given explicit permission to do so. It's all a jumble of affirmations and curses, not exactly sensical, but he doesn't think Phil expects him to be talking in proper sentences right this second.

Eventually, though, Dan groans and reaches for Phil's hair, pulling him off. "Okay, okay, fuck. I'm good, need you now."

He opens his eyes and has to swallow another noise at how good Phil looks right now, all reddened mouth and darkened eyes. He surely can't see the way Dan is gawping at him, but the way he smirks makes Dan think that maybe he can sense it. "What exactly do you need?" Phil asks, playing dumb. Dan would kick him if he was physically able to.

"I'm going to kick you," Dan informs him.

"Wow, abuse of the boyfriend," says Phil. He nips at Dan's stomach and sits up with a little roll of his neck, stretching it. "I'm just asking for some clarity, Daniel, you already have me."

"You're terrible," says Dan. "This is terrible. If you don't have your dick inside me in the next ten seconds, you're sleeping on the sofa."

Phil's fake-innocent mask breaks as he giggles, tongue poking out from between his teeth. "This is my bed!" he protests.

Honestly, Dan doesn't care whose bed it is. This is a ridiculous argument to be having when Phil's got three of his fingers in Dan's ass.

"Ten," Dan threatens like he would with a small child, and Phil laughs even harder at him. Dan can feel giggles threatening to bubble up from his own chest, and he tries to hold back a very unsexy snort. "Shut up, oh my god, you're the absolute worst."

"I'm not the one whining about not getting my way," Phil points out.

"Hi, have we met? I'm Dan."

Phil rolls his eyes to the ceiling and shakes his head. The loss of his fingers makes Dan whine involuntarily, and he whines even louder when Phil stands up.

Thankfully, Phil only stays off the bed long enough to shuck his jeans and pants off. Dan reaches for him, wraps a hand around Phil's cock and revels in the soft, surprised 'oh' of a noise that falls from Phil's lips. He's hard and heavy and Dan has to know if that Prince Albert will do anything for him when Phil is inside him. He gives Phil a couple strokes and tears open another condom. Maybe if Dan were a less lazy person, he'd take his own off now that it isn't needed, but - hey, it's already there, clean-up's going to be a lot easier. Whatever.

He doesn't think he can stay on his back. He isn't entirely convinced that he won't get teary if this feels at all like this 'making love' thing people keep talking about, first of all, but Dan also has far more practical excuses for rolling onto his front. His thighs are starting to cramp up, and the other people who live in this building would surely appreciate Dan's loud mouth being pressed into a pillow. Dan has so many things he could say to Phil if he asks about the change of position, but Phil doesn't ask.

A cool palm runs over Dan's lower back and rests on his hip, squeezing. Dan sighs and buries his nose further into the pillowcase. It smells like Phil's fruity shampoo, and that's comforting. This isn't as scary now that Dan remembers exactly how at ease Phil puts him, has been able to since they met.

Phil working mostly by touch gives Dan enough warning that he doesn't quite gasp when he feels the head of Phil's cock pressing against him, but he does groan into Phil's pillow.

He definitely forgot to warn Phil about his volume control issues. It would be fairly redundant to do it now, Dan thinks, because the barely-muffled sound he makes when Phil starts to sink into him is already the loudest one he's made in Phil's presence.

Phil pauses, squeezing Dan's hip again. "Hey. Good or bad?"

Dan turns his face just enough to laugh breathlessly, stretching his arms out to hold onto the pillow. "Uh, fucking incredible."

"Yeah," Phil agrees, voice so low that Dan can practically feel it vibrating down his spine. He rolls his hips carefully and makes a choked-off laugh of a noise when Dan outright moans, only able to hide the tail end of it in the pillow. "Christ. You weren't kidding, yeah? You really like this?"

Eyes closed, practically suffocating himself, Dan does his best to nod.

He does. He really likes this.

The thing is, he still isn't really sure that he's able to vocalize that, at least not right this second. Dan rocks his hips back instead of trying to articulate some kind of response, heat sparking through him at the motion. God, but it really has been a long time since Dan has gotten fucked. Phil lets his hips snap forward to meet Dan's little thrusts, and, yeah. Fuck.

Dan was right. This feels so much better than any other cock he's ever had, and it isn't because the ball of Phil's piercing keeps nudging against Dan's prostate just right or because he's thick enough to stretch Dan just the way he likes - or, okay, it isn't solely because of those things. They do help.

It's just because this is Phil rocking into him, pressing kisses over his shoulders, making little breathy noises whenever Dan clenches around him.

Honestly, Dan had no idea that liking someone so much and trusting them with his body would make sex this much better. Sure, yeah, it makes logical sense or whatever, but it isn't something he could have ever guessed he'd get to experience.

He’s still overthinking when a particularly hard thrust has him rushing to the edge faster than he has in a long time, making his entire mind short-circuit.

"Oh," he moans, curling his hands into fists in Phil’s pillow and nodding into the fabric. "Oh, fuck, s-sorry, close -"

Phil's laugh turns into a groan, and Dan thinks that's the hottest thing he's ever heard. "The fuck are you sorry for, Dan?" He slides one of his hands around to play with Dan's cock, tight enough that Dan doesn't even fucking care about the latex barrier keeping him from the texture of Phil's palm. Phil presses more of his weight onto Dan, kisses the side of his neck, murmurs directly into his ear. "I want you to come."

Yeah. Okay. Dan might be a bit suggestible. He bites down on Phil’s pillow as his orgasm hits, embarrassingly quickly. Maybe he does black out for a second, because he feels heat through his entire body one moment and absolutely boneless the next.

Phil is still kissing over his feverish skin when Dan comes back to himself, and the feeling of him grinding slow into Dan is hovering right on the knife edge of too-much.

"Fuck," Dan gasps, turning his head so he can breathe again. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth and he isn't sure that his arms will ever not be jelly again. He feels Phil stop moving, probably planning to pull out, and he whines a bit. "No, s'okay. You can finish, baby."

If Dan were more present, he might care that he's called someone baby unironically. As it is, he just wiggles back into Phil and revels in the moan he gets in response.

"You sure?" Phil checks, voice trembling the tiniest bit. It's like he's holding himself back. He doesn't have to do that, not with Dan.

"Very sure," says Dan. He closes his eyes, lets the too-much turn back into a low level thrum of pleasure. He's not nineteen anymore, he definitely can't go again tonight, but it still feels good to be making Phil feel good. He hums and reaches a hand back to hold onto Phil's, both of them pressed against Dan's hip. He feels loose-limbed, happy, and he doesn't second guess himself at all when he adds, "I like the way it feels. You can keep going."

"God," Phil breathes. He gives Dan a couple of slow, careful thrusts, testing the waters, but when Dan only makes a contented noise in response, Phil starts really fucking him again.

Dan holds tight to Phil's hand and lets Phil use him for his own end, murmuring absolute nonsense to help him along. Just, "Yeah, that's it, doesn't it feel good, you feel good", that sort of thing.

Still, Phil does get there before Dan stops enjoying the oversensitive feeling. His rhythm falters a couple of times and his blunt nails dig into Dan's skin, hopefully leaving more physical reminders of the best sex Dan's ever had, before he's groaning something that sounds like Dan's name and coming. Dan whimpers at the feeling of Phil losing control inside him.

They're both panting and sweaty and have gross condoms to dispose of, but when Phil pulls out of him and pulls him into a cuddle, Dan feels more at peace than he thinks he ever has in his goddamn life.

"I don't want to leave," Dan whispers into the quiet, because he isn't sure if he's told Phil as much.

"I don't want you to leave," Phil says, pressing a kiss to Dan's damp curls. His arms feel so steady around Dan, not at all jelly like Dan's are. "But you'll be back when you can, right? And I go to Florida every year with my family, I can totally road trip to you."

With any luck, that won't be necessary. Dan is too fucked-out and sleepy to turn this into a Conversation, though, so he just makes an affirmative sort of noise and nuzzles into Phil's chest.

They can clean up in a minute.

--

"Sorry, sorry, I know I was almost late, but I promise I have a good reason for it -"

"You can't be almost late," Phil says, rather patiently for the time of morning it is in London. He looks tired, glasses on and hair an absolute mess, but he'd woken up just because Dan had asked him to. Dan can see Thor's nose, resting on Phil's thigh, and everything inside him wants to crawl through the screen to join them both.

Dan settles in the hotel bed with his phone, grinning at how cute they both look even through shitty FaceTime quality. "Still, I'm sorry. I know it's early."

"Yeah," Phil says, unable to stop himself from yawning. He gives Dan a sheepish little smile. "But I wanted to see you. How's L.A. going? Has anyone tried to lick you yet?"

"For the last time, you're the only person who has multiple stories of strangers trying to lick you," says Dan. He winks. "Not that I blame them."

The grin Phil gives him makes his stomach swoop. Dan wonders if it's ever going to stop doing that.

"Shut up," Phil says, fond. He shifts around on his sofa, getting comfortable, and Thor gives him a disappointed sort of look for the temporary displacement. "Sorry, buddy. But I'm serious, Dan, what's up? You've been stupidly vague."

"Yeah, I guess I have," says Dan. He lifts a shoulder in a lazy sort of shrug and puts his hand in front of his mouth to try and hide the ridiculously happy grin on his face. "I've been talking to producers all day, and it's been a fucking nightmare. Just got back to the hotel, I really did think I'd be back earlier than this and I could try to be early for once, but."

Phil blinks at him. "I thought you were on vacation."

"Don't you think I'd go to your place if I were on vacation?" Dan laughs. "No, I - I didn't want to get your hopes up. But like, here's the thing. I've got news."

Even Thor seems to perk up. Dan grins at his screen, wishes he could watch Phil's eyes go from their carefully guarded neutrality into something that's softer, more hopeful. Just for Dan.

"You've got news," Phil repeats. He bites his lip. "What kind of news?"

Dan had this whole plan to drag it out, make it all dramatic, but now that he's faced with the cautious optimism in Phil's face, he can't bring himself to do it. He laughs, rolls onto his side to get more comfortable. "Well, you can tell your mum I'm coming round for Christmas, for one."

#can't breathe when you touch my sleeve #dnp fic #phanfic #phan #phanfiction #words words words #i can't believe it's over.... fuck. i hope i made y'all smile and laugh and feel good #that was the whole point #;~;

[supersoldiersruined-me]

for the I love you prompts, stucky x reader 28?

A/N: Here’s something a little sad and angsty. It doesn’t involve the description of actual death. I missed writing short drabbles. Italics are flashbacks.

# 28: When I am dead

“Steve, leave her alone man!” You hear Bucky shout from the other end of the lawn to your defense. Tears of laughter slide down your cheeks as Steve proceeds with his vicious attack. Luckily, the park is nearly empty. Your screams would have earned a prompt visit from the police. Some passersby eye you down as you’re wiggling in his tight embrace.

“Not in a million years!” He’s towering over you even with his frail figure, tickling your sides like a madman - a part of your body you know is now covered in bruises. An unexpected kick of your knee hits him right in the nuts, which has him convulsing next to you.

“Shit shit. I’m sorry Stevie!” Your hands come to cover your mouth as you kneel next to him not knowing what to do. He’s spinning over like firemen had taught you to do at a school safety assembly, his hands on his crotch and his groans loud as if he was actually on fire.

“He can walk it off, Y/N. He deserved it quite frankly,” Bucky adds with a laugh as he walks closer to examine his best friend. He has no trouble turning him around and pulling him up to his feet. The poor boy is still crouching with pain. “See, ts’all good!” Bucky pulls you by your shoulders and sets a sweet kiss to the top of your head as you keep your eyes on Steve’s wincing face.

“Steve I’m so-”

“Leave it, Y/N. I’m fine,” he says as he tries to hold himself straight, waving his hand your way to stop whatever you where trying to do with yours. You can hear the hurt in his voice, and you’re sure it wasn’t just from the roaring ache you had physically caused him. Bucky’s still next to you, giving you a sheepish smile that says you should drop trying to comfort him.

Steve had always been stubborn when it came to whatever you did with him. Whether it was something fun, loving or even something people did naturally towards their friends. Anything physical had him wanting to disappear. As soon as you and Bucky had caught on to the hidden feelings you had for each other, he had slowly pushed himself aside, even after the numerous discussions of a possible polyamorous relationship you had. You blamed yourself for ‘stealing’ him away from his first love, but then again, he was the one trying so hard to stay away.

“Come on now, let’s grab something to eat. It’s Drive-in night, and their shit is expensive. Better fill our stomachs first.” With one hand now tangled with yours and the other rubbing circles over his chest, Bucky begins to walk towards the nearest rail line. You reach back, offering your free hand to Steve, which he accepts with a groan. You smile back at him, but he turns his gaze to the street, unable to look you in the eyes as a red hue creeps on his cheeks at the thought of three people holding hands publically. What felt right was wrong, and Steve was not one to mess with the unknown.

– 

“Can you imagine just how bad things were? And we thought we had it all…” Steve remanaces as he’s unpacking some of his old boxes in his and Bucky’s private living room. A picture of the three of you at Stark Expo almost cripples in his big hand.

“Can you imagine what a dumbass you were?” They both chuckle at Bucky’s remark, Steve sets the picture aside so he can frame it later. With a sigh of annoyance, Bucky stands up and heads towards the hall to the common kitchen. “Want me to bring you anything?”

Steve simply shakes his head ‘no’ as his mind begins to delve into a stack of old, war-era envelopes. Bucky shrugs in return and swiftly exits the room.

Most of them are still sealed with pretty coloured wax, which is one more clue to how far back these dated. “Letters from Brooklyn?” He’s whispers to himself as he tries to remember why these would be addressed to him, with the address of the head of the New York department. His mom had died much before he even started to lie his way into the 107th. His dad would have never done such a sappy thing.

He sits back, resting against the leg of the couch as he begins to tear open the top of the letters, not wanting to break the pretty wax stamps. The room becomes small, warm, as his mind slowly suffocates when he begins to read the first line.

/ To my dearest Steven,

I still find it hard to wake up these days, when I know that you are out there, lost perhaps, alone. /

Steve feebly sets the letter away and tears another as his eyes begin to blur.

/ To Steven Rogers, my hero

It has been over three months now since I last saw you. Bucky’s letters say he has not seen or heard from you. I hope you’re safe and well taken care of. /

He cannot bring himself to read the entirety of the notes, unable to bare with the fact that you had been writing to him all those years, while he was out there becoming the world’s biggest experiment. He opens the last few ones and places them side by side on the ground. His hands want to dig holes in his thighs as he reads parts of them quickly. Tears fall onto the old paper, spoiling the ink as the droplets spread easily in the dry material.

/ Please, I need to hear from you./

/ If you won’t talk to me, at least let Bucky know you’re okay./

/ I hope I can see you again./

All of the letters end with you hoping to see him again. Wishing he wasn’t trapped in some alley, getting beat up by some bullies. Steve hadn’t noticed, until now, how deeply you loved him and how you never even have to say the sacred words.  

“How did these get in my box?” Steve screams although he doesn’t mean wrong. His emotions are skyrocketing as he’s burdened with too much information. The process would be hard and long and for now his basic instincts wanted him to be defensive.

Bucky shoots his hands in the air, taken aback by the sudden accusation as he barely made it into the room. He squints as he tried to make out what Steve had in his hand. “They’re letters Steve. I’ve never seen those before…”

“No shit they’re letters!” He takes a deep breath when Bucky’s reaction to his sudden arrogance makes him feel abashed. He closes his eyes, pushing some more tears out. “Y/N wrote these. To me, Buck.” He sits on the couch, defeated, as if someone had thrown a bus at him - and he was usually okay with that.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, man” Bucky tries his best to reassure his friend. His hard frame drops next to him, his hand comes to soothe his back.

“She was out there, right in front of me, and all I cared about was to fight something much bigger than myself. When you left, she was finally all mine for a while. Not that she had made it clear before that I could also be with her. With you, actually.” He takes a pause as his head comes to rest on the shoulder next to him. “But I kept telling myself she was just waiting for you to come back from the war. Her tall and strong and handsome man. Not a tiny kid she was afraid to break.”

“You wanna know what she kept telling me?” Bucky kisses Steve’s forehead. He felt him motion an agreement. “She always wanted to see the future, what people would be like and if they would change their opinion on love. She wanted us, all of us, to be happy. She knew we had a thing for each other, and it broke her heart to see you resile on that. She would’ve given us the world, Stevie.” His own eyes become watery. “Y/N had enough love to go around, but you wanted nothing to do with that back then. I’m lucky enough to call you mine today.” Bucky’s voice is soft as he comforts Steve with the little bit of tough love he has come to find effective.

“She’ll never know that I adored her man. I fucking messed this up,” he adds with a shake of his head.

“Language,” Bucky notes jokingly, earning himself a faint chuckle. Finally, Steve looks up into his eyes, he leans forward to kiss the dark-haired man’s lips. “You always said I reminded you of her somehow. So I guess as long as you have me…”

“Yeah, but you don’t come with amazing boobs and sinful white panties, Buck,” he replies with a smirk, his soul seems to mend under the hand on his thigh.

“Well, half of that is true,” he whispers in the shell of Steve’s ear as a proposition.

Everything tag  

@buckmesideways22​ @stanclub​ @buckysbrat​ @eyesfixedonthesun22​ @captainrogerrsbeard​ @loricameback​ @freshwoods @onehotgreasymechanic @wintersoldier1989 @mybloodtypeiscoffee @msruchita @katiew1973 @badassbaker @its-forevermore @its-a-pretty-interesting-wall @musette22

Chris tag

@mrs-captain-evans​ @princess-evans-addict @patzammit @omnomsauruswrites

Sebastian tag

@if-n0t-l8ter-when

#stucky x reader #stucky drabble #stucky angst #my writing

[zoemurph]

to have a friend, chapter 10: $233

on ao3 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

haha im dying!

thank you for being patient. i have one essay left, a group project (that includes another essay :P), a final quiz, a flash fiction piece, and a final. and i'm done with my first semester of college? i'm actually...taking next semester off so...probably more consistent updates after this. phew. oh and i won nano? wild

i'm exhausted and genuinely don't like at least 75% of this chapter, but it's done. please please p l e a s e read the end notes for a little disclaimer thanks

warnings: anxiety, depression, panic attacks, let me know if any other warnigns should be added

enjoy~

Sometimes Connor has the really strong urge to hold Evan’s hand.

It’s a weird feeling. This desire to just reach out and take Evan’s hand in his own and not even say anything, just hold it.

Sometimes Connor thinks that romantic feelings are bullshit. Especially when it’s seven in the morning and Evan sees him waiting by the locker and lights up like the goddamn sun and Connor’s stomach tries to become an Olympic gymnast.

Like right now.

Evan stands next to Connor, their arms almost touching, as he talks to Alana. They’re still trying to figure out a name for their club, because for whatever reason, Alana refuses to use The Fuck Project.

Jared thinks it’s hilarious, which has somehow worked against the name.

Alana is going on about the details. Evan nods, and he probably knows what’s going on, but Connor’s zoned out. Alana has this in the bag and also Connor isn’t actually involved in their little pet project. Even if the initial idea did come from Alana being way too fucking nosy.

She’s nice when she’s not picking Connor’s brain.

So Alana and Evan talk and Connor stands and people pass them and time until the next class starts ticks down and down and down. It’s a nice moment. Weirdly calm. For once, Connor doesn’t feel entirely awful, despite where he is and everything about himself.

He still wants to hold Evan’s hand.

It’s not like Connor actively tries to think about it. The opposite, in fact. As soon as thoughts about dating Evan pop up, he shoves them to the very back of his brain. He quarantines them away in the darkest corners, because thinking about it hurts.

Evan has made himself a constant in Connor’s life. But a temporary constant. Which is weird and annoying and tiring. Sometimes Connor’s emotions bubble up inside him and threaten to spill out and then Evan will give him this look when Connor pays him and everything just vanishes. Evan looks at Connor and all Connor’s thoughts shrink back and go ‘fuck never mind’.  

That doesn’t mean that he’s actually good about not thinking it. He’s getting worse, actually. It’s turning into a mild problem.

Evan can just look at Connor and Connor’s heart will flip and his mind will be consumed with ‘holy fuck I would date the shit out of him’.

He would. Connor has absolutely zoned out staring at Evan on multiple occasions. He keeps passing it off as being tired and honestly it’s a miracle that Evan hasn’t started asking about Connor’s sleep schedule— which is a disaster but isn’t why Connor keeps staring Evan.

Connor keeps staring at Evan because his brain is a fucking traitor and likes to think about what it would be like to kiss Evan.

Of all the boys to fall in love with, Connor had to go and fall in love with Evan Hansen.

Connor checks his phone under his desk. It’s been facedown on his desk — he’s making an attempt in calculus because he’s doing a really shit job right now and he has to pass because he literally cannot spend a day longer in this hellscape than he has to — but he can see the screen lighting up repeatedly.

From: Ev To: Connor      AR eyou in clasright no w      Of cours e youre in c alss where els e wi oudl you b      Im so ryrcan you g et out ?

Connor squints at the board. There are x’s and t’s and some other bullshit that he doesn’t understand. A lot of lines and marks.

Fuck.

He opens another conversation.

From: dickbag To: assface      you any good at calc?

Jared replies surprisingly fast. Actually, not so surprisingly. Connor is actually not surprised at all that Jared uses his phone in class.

From: assface To: dickbag      ive got a mean b in calc bc      y

Connor raises his hand and asks to go to the bathroom. The teacher waves him out the door and keeps teaching.

From: assface To: dickbag      i have to do something and i need to not fail      you willing to tell me what the fuck is happening?

From: Connor To: Ev      where are you? got out of class

Connor heads to the bathroom, because he’s already on the third floor and that’s where Evan was last time. And it’s the closest bathroom. His phone buzzes in his hand as he hurries through the hall and he tries not to groan when it’s just Jared.

From: dickbag To: assface      no promises but i can try      dont know y ur coming to me lmao      also i charge $10/hr

From: assface To: dickbag      fine but youre a dick

Connor pushes the bathroom door open. The lights are on, someone’s been in here in the past ten minutes, but the bathroom is empty. He drags his hand through his hair and catches a look at himself in the mirror.

Wow. He looks like shit.

Connor rubs his face and checks his phone again. It’s been buzzing, but it’s just been Jared.

From: dickbag To: assface      not news      whats so important that ur running out of class??      o shit drugs?      420 blaze it      i dont kno weed culture

As Connor scrolls through Jared’s messages, a text from Evan pops up on the top of his screen.

From: Ev To: Connor      J aanito s clostesecond follr

Connor runs into a wide eyed freshman as he hurries out of the bathroom and swings around a corner to get to the stairs. He only vaguely knows where that closet it, because he’s never had a reason to pay attention to it. Janitor’s closets are usually locked and it’s not like Connor is observant when it comes to his surroundings.

He skips the last few steps and just jumps down to the landing, slowing to a fast walk as he searches the hallway for the janitor’s closet. He finds it tucked into a corner between two classrooms. He glances up and down the hallway before he knocks softly. He tries the handle and knocks again before he pulls the door open.

“Evan?” he asks softly into the darkened closet. Light from the hallway spills into the darkness, barely brushing Evan’s shoes. Evan is huddled into the corner furthest away from the door, squished between shelves, on the ground with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms covering his head.

Connor stares for a minute, listening to Evan’s ragged breathing, before he steps into the closet. He turns on his phone’s flashlight and covers it with his hand before pulling the door closed. He lets some light slip through his fingers and finds a bottle of Windex on one of the shelves. He puts his phone under it and the room glows blue. Maybe life hacks aren’t always as shitty as they seem.

Connor sits down on the floor next to Evan. “Ev,” he whispers. “Can I help?”

Evan doesn’t look up. After a few seconds he stops holding on to his hair so tightly and holds a shaking hand out to Connor. Connor takes it. Almost immediately, Evan’s hand clenches around Connor’s, squeezing Connor’s fingers tightly. Connor moves over so the position is less awkward and lightly squeezes Evan’s hand back. 

Connor sits and waits, because he doesn’t really know what else to do. He watches Evan’s breathing and tries not to let his mind wander too much, because it’s too early in the day for any of that shit.

Evan loosens his grip on Connor’s hand and the tension seems to run out of his body. He sags against the wall and slowly lifts his head from his knees. He pulls his hand away. “S-sor-sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Connor says. His voice sounds weirdly rough. He clears it and stretches out his fingers.

Evan stares at them. “I— i-if I hurt your…your hand I didn’t mean to I just—”

“You didn’t,” Connor interrupts quickly. “See?” He wiggles his fingers. “Work just fine.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Do you…uh, want to talk about it?”

Evan makes a strangled sound. “N-nothing to… I mean there’s always—” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. “D-dr. Sherman always says that— that there’s something? And I just don’t u-understand what so I’m…supposed to process it. But I just…”

“I think it’s a fucking lot to ask you to process shit right after a panic attack,” Connor says flatly.

Evan shrugs helplessly. “I don’t— I-I forget. I forget what I’m— what I feel in the moment a-and what I was thinking and then when she asks what was going through my mind I can’t tell her and then I feel worse and like a failure and I think I’m supposed to be getting better because I go to therapy and I take meds and—” Evan cuts himself off to take a deep breath. “It takes time,” Evan says softly. “It takes time. It takes time and it’ll get better it just—”

“Takes time?” Connor asks.

Evan smiles at him weakly. “Y-yeah.”

The bell rings, slightly muffled. Evan goes tense.

Connor thinks about his calculus teacher. She probably won’t be thrilled that he skipped out on the rest of class, but whatever. Maybe he’ll do homework for once and try to get back on her disinterested side.

“Your mom is working right now, isn’t she?” Connor asks slowly.

Evan nods. “Yeah, she’s a-always working. Pretty much.”

“We’ve still got three classes to get through.” Connor bumps their knees together. “Can you hide out in the nurse’s office or something? I’d say just leave, but…” Evan shakes his head. “Yeah, exactly. I don’t know shit about doing things the ‘right’ way.”

“I’ll…be okay,” Evan says.

Connor stares at him.

“It’s-it’s really fine,” Evan insists.

“Ev—”

“I’ve done it before, it’s not a big… I’ll just— it’s okay, really.”

“You aren’t taking the bus home today,” Connor says. He gets to his feet and takes the Windex off of his phone. “Light warning.” Evan covers his eyes. Connor flicks the light on and winces in the brightness before shutting off his flashlight. He slides his phone into his pocket and offers Evan his hand.

Evan takes it and lets Connor haul him to his feet. “Y-you don’t have to—”

“Fuck the bus,” Connor interrupts. “Zoe has a perfectly good car.”

Evan blinks. “Doesn’t she have rehearsal today?”

“How do you know my sister’s schedule better than I do?” Connor opens the door of the closet and peers out into the hallway. They have to be careful, because high school is fucking hell. Most people won’t give a shit and don’t pay attention to shit, but all it takes is one person assuming something. When no one is looking, he steps out of the closet and pulls Evan along, walking away from the closet quickly and melting into the thinning crowd. “So what if we have to wait for her to get out, just hang around with me for a little bit.”

As soon as Connor says it, his stomach twists. “I don’t have any today but—”

Evan stops walking, yanking Connor back a bit. They’re still holding hands. Connor pulls his away and puts his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

“D-don’t,” Evan says.

Connor furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“You’re already— you’re doing me a favor by…by driving me home. So you don’t have to…” Evan gestures with his hands. “Debt paid. It’s— you’re fine.” Connor stares at him. “I— okay.”

Evan takes a step back. “I have to… I have class. I’ll see you after.” He spins on his heel and walks down the hallway, dodging other students before disappearing around a corner.

—«·»—

Connor drops into his seat in the back of AP Literature and puts his head down on his desk.

He needs to think about something — anything — other than Evan. Evan is supposed to be the one who thinks himself into an anxious spiral, not Connor. And Connor can’t help but feel like something is horribly wrong.

But, fuck, he wouldn’t stop their arrangement for anything. He’ll keep paying Evan to put up with him in the halls for as long as he possibly can, just to see Evan smile.

He wants to see Evan smile today. Anything other than the empty expression he had on his face when he walked away from Connor earlier.

Alana sits down next to Connor. Sometimes Connor forgets him and Alana talk now, even if it’s only because she’s Evan’s friend and probably thinks this is a good way to keep tabs on Evan. All she’s ever wanted from Connor is information, anyway.

Connor stares out the window at the icy field hockey field spread out in front of the school as the teacher starts the lesson. Something about the essay they have due in a few days at midnight.

Alana hands over her essay, printed and typed, five pages long double spaced and stapled in the corner. “It’s just a rough draft,” she says.

Connor blinks at the paper. “Uh…were we supposed to…”

She shakes her head. “No, we just needed to have an outline today.” She adjusts her glasses and opens a notebook. “But if you didn’t—”

“I did,” Connor says quickly. He actually did for once. ��Here.” He pulls out his notebook and flips through pages and pages of shitty sketches to the section where he just stuffs any loose papers he’s handed. He pulls out the outline and smooths it out a little. “Don’t expect anything.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Alana says as she takes it from him.

Connor squints at her. “I did this while high so it’s either a brilliant disaster or just a fucking mess.”

Alana grins. “I hope it’s a brilliant disaster.”

“Probably not.”

She just shrugs and pulls out a pen, tapping it on her notebook as she skims over the outline. Connor turns to Alana’s essay and starts reading. Alana likes words and complex sentences. She’s good at backing up her points with evidence from the text, and doesn’t dance around her conclusions. She has a structure and logic to her essay that Connor’s never been able to achieve. He just sort of says words until he feels like he’s done.

He reads her fourth paragraph a few times, picking at his nail polish as he does so. He glances over to Alana and then reads it again.

She’s scribbling on his outline when he looks back to her. She meets his eyes. “Something wrong?”

Connor’s eyes flick from her to her essay. “Uh…no.”

Alana rolls her eyes and hands him her pen. “Fix it. Whatever it is. That’s the entire point of peer review.”

“I could be wrong—” Connor starts, but Alana holds up a hand to stop him.

“I’ll decide what to do with your feedback. Just do it.”

Connor nods slowly and hesitates with the pen hovering over the paper. “What are you doing, by the way?”

“Translating.”

“What?”

Alana pulls another pen from her backpack and uncaps it. “Your outline is good, you have some really good ideas in here, it’s just lost in the typos and grammar.”

“I can figure it out,” Connor says. “You don’t have to do that shit.”

Alana raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Connor blinks. “…not anymore?”

She nods firmly. “Exactly. You edit mine, I’ll edit yours. You won’t hurt my feelings, please, feel free to rip it to shreds.”

Connor exhales slowly. “Okay, Beck. Whatever.” He strikes out a sentence. “Whatever you say.”    

—«·»—

Connor meets Evan by Evan’s locker. They lock eyes and for a second everything feels weird. And then Jared shows up.

Connor has never been relieved to see Jared Kleinman before.

“What’s up?” Jared asks, clapping a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “My…main bros.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, crossing that off the list.” Jared gives Evan a look and Evan shrugs. Connor looks between them and shifts his weight to his other foot. “Anyway, you free on Saturday?” he asks Evan.

Evan blinks. “Y-yes?”

“My moms wanted you over for dinner. They’re going to try to harass Heidi into coming too but,” Jared shrugs, “we know how that is.”

Evan smiles and ducks his head. “I-I mean— yeah that’d be…that’d be nice. Um, I can…ask my mom?”

“Nice.” Jared holds his fist out for a fist bump. Evan rolls his eyes and knocks their knuckles together. “Okay, text me, cause if she’s working, I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

Evan nods. “O-okay, I will.”

“Sweet, got to dash or I’ll never get out of here.” Jared shoots finger guns at Connor. “See, ya Murph,” he says before sprinting down the hallway.

Connor lifts a hand to wave goodbye as jealousy twists in his stomach. It makes him feel gross. He swallows it and turns to Evan. “So, uh…we can probably hide in a practice room until Zoe’s done.”

Evan pulls on the straps of his backpack. “A-are they, um, open? Because I know, I mean I’ve heard because sometimes the band kids in my classes complain about this, that they lock? Or get locked? So…”

“We can…check?” Connor suggests.

Evan nods. “That’s…probably a good idea.”

Connor leads Evan down to the music wing. The first two practice rooms are locked, but the third that they try is unlocked. Connor raises his eyebrows at Evan and pushes the door open. The lights flicker on automatically and Evan closes the door behind them.

All four of the practice rooms are the same in Connor’s experience, a keyboard and bench, a trash, and maybe a stand or chair that someone has dragged in. Except one, that for some reason, has two pianos. They lucked out and that is exactly the room they’re in. Less room, but it doesn’t really matter.

Evan puts his bag down on one of the piano benches and then sits on the floor in the space between the end of the piano and the wall.

Connor coughs. “Uh…are you…okay?” He winces. Yikes.

“Tired,” Evan says softly.

Connor glances to the light switch before pressing the button to turn off the lights. There’s still a decent amount of light from the window in the door, but it’s darker. Connor puts down his bag and joins Evan on the floor. Evan looks up at him.

“Take a nap,” Connor suggests.

Evan blinks at him.

Connor sighs. “Scoot over.”

Evan moves so he’s as close to the piano as he can get. Connor squeezes into the space between Evan and the wall. There’s way more space in these practice rooms than it seems, the pianos make them look small.

Connor pulls on the sleeve of Evan’s sweatshirt. “Just lean on me. More comfortable than the wall, probably, though I’m basically all bone.”

“Y-you sure?”

Connor rolls his eyes because it feels right. “I wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t. Close your eyes, Ev.”

“Okay,” Evan whispers. He rests his head on Connor’s shoulder. “Wake me up if your arm falls asleep.”

“Sure,” Connor lies.

A few minutes later, Evan’s breathing starts to even out. When Connor is sure that he’s asleep, he carefully pulls his phone out of his pocket.

From: C To: Z      waiting in practice room c      evans napping so dont come in just knock or some shit

Once he’s sent the texts, he puts his phone down and turns his attention back to Evan. Connor turns his head to look down at Evan, and when his nose brushes Evan’s hair, his heart goes into double time.

Fuck.

—«·»—

Connor thinks he’s drifted off when Zoe finally knocks on the door. He inhales sharply and sits up straighter, eyes wide. He leans forward to see Zoe standing in front of the door with her guitar on her back and her saxophone in hand.

He leans back and sighs. Okay.

Connor shakes Evan’s shoulder. “Ev, Ev wake up. Zoe’s done.”

Evan groans and blinks blearily. “Huh?”

Connor’s breath catches in his throat. He finds himself lost in Evan’s sleepy eyes for a moment too long and hopes Evan’s still too asleep to notice. “Zoe,” he says. “We can go home now.”

“Oh.” Evan pulls himself to his feet using the piano. About halfway up, he grabs Connor’s arm and pulls Connor up as well.

They grab their bags and open the door.

“Sleep well?” Zoe asks with a smirk.

Connor flips her off behind Evan.

Evan shrugs. “I-it was the floor.”

Connor takes Zoe’s saxophone from her. “Let’s go. I have an essay to write.”

Zoe blinks. “You do?”

“Unfortunately,” he grumbles.

The parking lot is blissfully empty when they step outside. The air is bitter and cold, and Connor wishes that it would just snow more than half an inch so the burning cold is worth it. He grabs Evan’s arm when Evan slips on ice and Zoe makes an offhanded comment about driving and black ice.

“You know?” she says to Evan.

Evan blinks. “N-no, I don’t— I don’t drive?”

Zoe frowns. “Do you take the bus?”

Evan turns pink, and Connor wonders if he’s redder because of the cold or not. “Yeah, it’s…yeah.”

Zoe looks to Connor.

“What?” Connor asks.

“What time does the bus pick you up?” Zoe asks.

“Uh…” Evan slows his walk. “I— around like…6:35?”

Zoe purses her lips. “Okay. Monday? We can swing by and pick you up.” She twirls her car keys around her finger. “Unless you hate my music choices as much as Connor does.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Evan says quickly.

“Too late,” Zoe sing songs. She unlocks the car and pops the trunk open. She puts her guitar in and then takes her saxophone from Connor. “We’d be happy to, right Connor?”

“Duh,” Connor says. “The bus is bullshit.”

“Good for the environment,” Evan says. “P-public transport!”

“We’re already using this car.” Zoe slams the trunk shut. “So it doesn’t actually matter. No additional cars on the road, just one less Evan the a bus.”

“Uh…”

“Sleep on it.” She rubs her arms. “Let’s go before I freeze.” She glances to Connor as she moves to the driver’s side. “How are you alive?”

Connor shrugs and pulls open the car door. He slides into the backseat next to Evan. “Can’t feel cold if you’re dead inside.”

Zoe twists around in her seat to glare at him before shutting the door. She turns on the car, blasts the heat even though it’s just air at the moment, and plugs her phone in. “Today we’re listening to Billy Joel,” she announces. “Get over it Connor.”

Connor just leans his forehead against the cold window as Uptown Girl plays from the speakers.

Zoe asks for directions a few times, but for the most part, they drive in silence aside from the Billy Joel in the slowly warming car.

Connor sits up when they arrive at Evan’s. “I’ll text you,” he says.

Evan gives him a smile. “Y-yeah. Thanks for the ride.”

“I’ll see you Monday at 6:40!” Zoe calls out before he shuts the door. She turns to look at Connor. “You moving up?”

“I guess.” Connor unbuckles and climbs over the center consul to get into the passenger seat. He buckles back in and Zoe backs out of the driveway.

“So…” she says slowly. “You and Evan.”

“What about us?” Connor asks flatly.

Zoe glances to him. “Anything…up?”

“Do you want me to say it?”

“No, but I can’t stop you from doing shit.”

“The sky.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “Great, now that that’s out of the way—”

“Nothing,” Connor interrupts. “Can’t two people be friends?”

“Well, yeah, obviously.” Zoe taps on the steering wheel. “You just seem like more than that.”

Connor scoffs. More like barely that. “We aren’t.”

“Do you want to be?”

Connor stares at the road. “The light is green.”

Connor spends most of his Saturday writing his paper. Because Alana had written all over his outline and now he feels obligated to make something half decent out of the genius she turned his bullshit into. Also, she shared her essay with him on google docs the night before for him to edit — he does not know why the fuck she did that and hates the fact that school emails are standardized so she didn’t even have to ask for his email — and offered to edit his in return. He’s not going to give up that opportunity. He’s doing fine in english but another solid essay grade can get his parents to calm down for at least a day.

He texts Evan and draws when he’s not writing. The other weekend, Cynthia dragged him off to the store with her, so he threw a cheap set of kids’ watercolors in the cart. And a box of Capri sun. He sits on his floor and drinks a Capri sun while he waits for a painting to dry. Evan is making lunch right now, so it’ll be a few minutes before he responds. Evan doesn’t usually text Connor while he’s making food, apparently the risk of fire is higher than normal, and that’s not just Evan’s anxiety talking.

Evan had texted him the night before thanking him for the ride home. Connor had replied ‘what are friends for’ and then threw his phone across the room so he didn’t have to read Evan’s response. It didn’t end up mattering, because Evan’s next text wasn’t sent until this morning, and it was a frantic apology because he fell asleep before responding.

Connor just said it was fine and changed the subject as fast as he could.

Connor sighs and gets to his feet. As he waits for the painting to dry, he’s really fucking impatient, he takes pictures of some of his least shitty doodles from class and posts them on a randomass tumblr he made after Evan suggested posting his art online. Mostly Connor did it out of curiosity, he didn’t really use the site otherwise, just posts drawings and then vanishes for a few days, but it’s also good because it means he has somewhere where all his art was stored digitally. He might’ve accidentally spilt a mug of coffee all over a notebook the other day. And he distinctly remembers setting a few sketchbooks on fire back in middle school.

From: Ev To: Connor      Back ! ANd I didnt evne burn anything

Connor smiles to himself and leans against his bed.

From: Connor To: Ev      congrats you now have the cooking skills of a 12 year old

From: Ev To: Connor      :((

Connor hesitates before typing out his next message. He really shouldn’t ask — it’s a fucking terrible idea on so many levels — but it’s been slowly eating away at him. Which doesn’t make sense. But whatever.

From: Connor To: Ev      doesnt matter though i mean youre having dinner tonight wth jared right??

He puts his phone on his desk and goes back to painting and tries not to think about it for a few minutes. It’s not fair of him to get jealous. Because Jared is trying to get better. He’s still a dick but there’s an attempt there.

Connor hasn’t changed anything.

He sits on the floor and works on the painting. Now that he has slightly less shitty watercolors, they’re still pretty garbage but they aren’t old and mostly gone, he uses way too much purple again.

Whatever.

He doesn’t check his phone again until he has to wait for more paint to dry. He’s tempted to grab a sketchbook and keep ignoring it, but that’s not fair to Evan.

From: Ev To: Connor      Oh  y eah      We used to ha ve dinner a lot togethe r when ew wer elittle      All oru moms were friends      Kinda weird that were doing it again but… NIce?? Hopefull y ?      My mom s ocming which is nice      She hasnt been home ofr a few nights so yeah

Connor takes a slow breath before replying.

From: Connor To: Ev      thats pretty cool      i hope its fun and the food doesnt suck

Evan replies almost immediately, even though Connor took almost twenty minutes to respond.

From: Ev To: Connor      Thnk you!!!      Jareds moms are really good cook sso itll be good I think      I hope dinner goes ok for you tonight !! Good luck :)

Connor stares at the smiley face and falls on his bed with a groan.

—«·»—

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Evan lately,” Larry says, pushing quino around his plate.

Connor resists the urge to roll his eyes. They never really talked about that. Sometimes, when Zoe goes over a friend’s house or has a friend over, Connor will give Larry a very pointed look and Larry will find something on his phone fascinating. An amazing double standard.

And, like? Of course he spends time with Evan. They’re best friends— pretending to be best friends. Connor doesn’t know how to get that through Larry’s thick skull.

Evan is Connor’s best friend.

“Well yeah,” Connor says, stabbing a piece of kale with his fork. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Wait, shit— 

Zoe chokes on her drink.

“What?!” Larry practically shouts, silverware hitting the table.

Connor opens his mouth to explain that technically, no, they aren’t boyfriends, though they are friends who are boys, even if sometimes Evan looks at him and makes Connor feel like he’s turning to putty. But they aren’t actually—

He glances to his mom with wide eyes. “Mom? Are you okay?”

Cynthia smiles, eyes watering. “I’m just so happy for you, sweetie!”

Connor slowly looks around the table. His mother crying tears of joy, his father staring at him in shock, his sister trying to bite back a smile.

Connor needs to talk to Evan immediately.

They’re fucked.

—«·»—

Connor grabs Zoe’s before she can disappear into her bedroom. She stiffens and he pulls his hand away. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine.” She crosses her arms. “I thought you told me nothing was going on between you and Evan.” She raises her eyebrows.

Connor grimaces. “I— don’t tell Evan.”

Zoe tilts her head. “Don’t tell Evan…you’re dating?”

Fuck. “No, no, fuck.” Connor frantically searches his mind. “I, uh, we weren’t going to…tell people? Yet? And I…fucked that up. So don’t— don’t mention it to him until like he says something or whatever, okay?”

Zoe mimes zipping her lips. “Secret’s safe with me. But also, I fucking knew it.”

Connor forces a laugh and runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah. You did.”

Zoe goes back into her room and Connor grabs his phone and goes down to the basement. He wonders if he can get his door back for Hanukkah, but for now, this is the only private place he’s got. He would lock himself in the bathroom, but that’s still way too close to the rest of his family members for comfort.

He flicks on the light as he heads down the stairs and grabs a blanket off the back of one of the chairs. The basement is about half finished and has been since Connor was in middle school. One of those projects that Larry never got around to finishing. Now they mostly use it for storage and hanging out when it gets too hot in the summer and even central air isn’t working well enough. Him and Zoe used to camp out for weeks in the basement on air mattresses and stay up way past their bedtimes giggling.

Now it’s December. He hasn’t been down here since he punched the far wall when everyone else was asleep. Him and Zoe haven’t spent time together in here in years. They haven’t done much together in years.

Connor wraps himself in a blanket and sits down in one of the old oversized chairs. They’re only down here because the went out of style and were deemed unworthy for the living room.

He unlocks his phone, scrolls through his contacts, and presses call. Then he listens to the phone ring and hopes that they’re done with dinner at the Kleinmans’ while he waits for the call to be answered.

“Hello?”

Connor grits his teeth. “Hi. I…might need help.”

“Is it about Evan?”

Connor frowns. “Why do you assume it’s about Evan?” It is but—

Jared laughs. “Dude, we aren’t friends. The only reason you talk to me is because of Evan. What’s up?”

Connor blinks. He’s just gotten so used to having Jared constantly around that it’s like they’re basically friends. But not. Because Connor doesn’t have any real friends.  

“I,” Connor clears his throat, “my family now thinks Evan and I are dating.”

There’s a long pause. Connor waits for Jared to start cackling, but Jared just whispers, “Holy shit.”

“Say whatever shit you want to now,” Connor mutters. “Get it out.”

“Holy shit,” Jared repeats. Connor rolls his eyes. “Murphy, what the fuck.”

“Yeah, I know, I fucked up.”

“What are you going to do?” Jared sounds almost amazed.

Connor frowns at the phone. This is not how he thought this conversation would go. “Pay Evan two hundred dollars? I know you meant that as a joke but—”

“Fucking shit, my dude. What the hell!”

Connor drags his hand through his hair. “Kleinman, my mom started crying when I said Evan was my boyfriend, okay? I can’t— fuck. I don’t know.”

Jared whistles.

Connor picks at his nailpolish. “Would Evan…go along with it? Do you think?”  

“I think that’s a question for Evan.”

“I’m asking you.”

Jared snorts. “Okay, fine. I think he’ll go along with it.” It almost feels like Jared is going to say something more, but he doesn’t. “You got two hundred bucks lying around?”

“No,” Connor admits. He has an idea. It’s a terrible idea that could backfire, but it’s an idea.

“So…how are you going to get it?” Jared gasps. “Oh shit! Are we going to rob a bank?”

Connor frowns. “No? Why is that the first thing you came up with? Why would you rob a bank for two hundred dollars? Wouldn’t fucking…normal robbery be easier?”

“Fuck off. Are we doing that?”

“No.”

“Well we both know you’re not getting a job—”

“Fuck you.”

“—and that would probably take too long. Are we going to sell weed?”

“What? No,” Connor says. “Also how long did you restrain yourself before asking that?”

“Too long for that boring answer and reaction,” Jared admits. “Give me something to work with, stoner kid. We could just steal it. I know you said no, but—”

“Jared what the fuck,” Connor interrupts.

“Dude, you aren’t offering any ideas here, I’m just trying to help out.”

Connor rubs the bridge of his nose. “Fucking— do you know how PayPal works?”

“Yeah sure,” Jared says. “Super easy, why?”

Connor sighs. “Would you be willing to help me set one up?”

“Ten bucks.”

“Fine.”

“Yeah sure, you wanted some help on calc anyway. Do you have info on your bank account, by the way?”

“I…can find it,” Connor says slowly. “Does tomorrow work? My house?”

“Yeah sure, my man. Shoot me an address and a time. I expect snacks.”

 Jared shows up on the doorstep ten minutes earlier than Connor expected with his backpack slung over one shoulder and a Starbucks drink in his left hand. “Sup.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “You’re early.”

“Fashionably.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Whatever.”  

Zoe leans out of the dining room. “Who’s here?”

Connor steps aside to let Jared in. Jared waves at Zoe.

Zoe squints. “What are you doing here?”

“So nice to see you again too, Smaller Murphy,” Jared says. He kicks his shoes off and puts them next to Zoe’s converse.

“Calc,” Connor says. “I’m…not doing great.”

“But you aren’t failing yet,” Jared says. “So we’re just going to keep you from not doing that. What are you learning again?”

Connor shrugs. “Something implicit. I’ll show you the homework.”

Jared nods. “Chill, chill.”

“Aren’t you friends with Alana?” Zoe asks.

“I…guess?” Connor frowns. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“She’s the valedictorian, isn’t she? Why didn’t you ask her for help?”

“Uh…” Connor looks to Jared.

Jared takes a sip of his drink. “I’m genuinely offended, by the way. I’m no Alana Beck but I am passing AP Calc BC, which is more than you can say for seventy percent of our class. Don’t take it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Zoe assures him. “Just didn’t tutoring was your…thing.”

“Alana tutors,” Jared says.

“I know, that’s my point.”

“Ha ha very funny. She tutors a lot of people so it makes sense that I take someone off her workload.” Jared points to Connor. “As her friend, Connor understands.”

“Right.” Connor nods. “That.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t judging you or anything I was just wondering. Have fun. Don’t set the house on fire, I’m going over Pippa’s to work on our history project, and Mom and Dad are out shopping or something.”

“I’ll keep Jared away from anything breakable,” Connor promises.

“I remind you I’m doing you a favor,” Jared says.

“You’re making me pay you.”

“Shit you’re right.”

—«·»—

“This is easy shit,” Jared says, looking up from Connor’s textbooks. “Really easy.”

Connor flips him off.

“I’ll explain it!” Jared promises. “This makes my job easier, probably. So back to real reason I’m here—”

“You are here to help me with math.” Connor reaches for his laptop. “I’m going to open commissions.”

Jared stares at him with a blank expression.

“Commissions,” Connor repeats slowly.

Jared blinks. “Since when do you draw?”

“Do you actually know anything about me?” Connor asks.

Jared looks away. “Valid. How can I help?”

“Mostly just need help with PayPal. And maybe wording the post? I don’t know shit about talking to people.” Connor opens his laptop and logs in. He closes a few tabs and opens up tumblr. He hesitates and then opens his blog. “Here.”

“Your theme is awful,” Jared says flatly.

“Did I ask you?”

“Didn’t have to.” Jared clicks a few times. “Dude, if you want to be selling your art, you need a theme that isn’t painful to look at.” Connor opens his mouth to protest, but Jared holds up a hand. “I’m doing you a favor here. Give me like ten minutes. I will change your world.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

Jared pushes away in the desk chair. “Too late, I’m not helping if we don’t change this ugly ass theme. Doodle or something while I do this. Make a commissions banner, I don’t fucking know.” Jared hunches over the laptop and starts typing.

Connor stares at him. Hopefully Jared isn’t going to charge him for this too.

Forty minutes later, Connor is putting aside a random drawing and Jared is looking up from the laptop.

“Bam, motherfucker,” Jared announces spinning the laptop around. “A picture heavy theme with easy navigation, readable text, and colors that don’t make me want to stab my eyes out.” Connor leans forward to see it. It actually looks pretty decent. And pretty professional. Jared has also added a few links, including one to Connor’s still nonexistent PayPal and a commissions page. “By the way, your art is pretty rad.”

Connor blinks. “Thanks. Did you want that bank account information?”

“Yeah sure.”

Connor gets up from the floor. “Let’s break into my dad’s office.”

Jared sets aside the laptop. “Sweet.”

—«·»—

Connor sits down in the chair in Larry’s office. He pulls open one of the lower drawers in the desk and flips through the the hanging folders until he finds one with his name.

“Don’t steal my identity or anything,” he says to Jared as he hands him one of the folders. “But see if anything in there is what you need.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jared starts flipping through the papers. “Your identity is too lame to steal.”

“Thanks.”

Connor skims over various forms and papers with his name all over them. So weird that he’s attached to all of these things but doesn’t understand any of them. That might be concerning. Is he supposed to know what these mean? He squints at something that looks like it has something to do with money.

“I can’t believe you’re going through with this,” Jared mutters.

Connor looks up. “With?”

“This fake dating shit.” Jared puts a stack of papers down on the desk. “I thought this was convoluted before.”

“You helped.”

“So you two keep reminding me.” Jared flips a piece of paper over. “I think this is it.”

“Cool.” Connor puts his folder away and Jared puts Connor’s laptop on the desk. Connor fills out what he can and Jared helps with the rest.

“And you have a PayPal,” Jared announces, finishing the form. “If you click this you can transfer money to your bank account, which is how you’ll get the money off the internet and into Evan’s hands.”

Connor nods. “Makes sense.” He grabs the papers and puts them back into the folder. He puts it back in the bottom drawer and makes sure everything is just how Larry left it before he gets up from the chair.

“I genuinely didn’t think either of you would get invested in this shit,” Jared says as they stop in the kitchen to grab a bag of chips.

Connor shrugged. “I fucked up, that doesn’t mean anything.”

Jared gives him a flat look before biting into a chip. “Let’s just finish this shit so I can teach you how implicit differentiation works.”

Connor wrinkles his nose. “Fine.”

They bring the bag of chips up to Connor’s bedroom and sit on the floor with Connor’s laptop in front of them. Between handfuls of chips, Jared sentences to the post.

“We can’t call it ‘I’m Gay Give Me Money’,” Connor protests.

“Why not?” Jared asks. “It’s tumblr.”

“What’s your point?”

Jared pulls the laptop closer and starts typing. “We just say like… ‘I’m trying to meet my boyfriend’, we stay vague on the details no one wants to know the complexity of this shit and also it’s weird as fuck, ‘so I’m opening commissions’. Blah blah blah here are details…” Jared looks up at Connor. “Any suggestions for prices?”

Connor shrugs.

“You are the least helpful person,” Jared mutters. “Okay…going on what I saw on your blog…” He types rapidly for a few minutes. “And posted.”

“What?!” Connor grabs the laptop from Jared. “Why did you do that?!”

“You weren’t going to have anything to say so fuck it, it’s posted.” Jared pops another chip in his mouth. “Chill the fuck out.”

Connor reloads the page to check the post. He doesn’t have any idea if the prices are reasonable, but Jared put up Connor’s email and a link to his PayPal and tagged the post with a few tags that make sense and a few that don’t.

Connor groans. “If you fucked this up for me—”

“I didn’t,” Jared says. “I am doing you so many solids right now. And now I’m about to try to teach you calculus. I am literally a god.”  

Connor resists the urge to slam his head against the keyboard.  

#connor murphy #evan hansen #convan #tree bros #deh fanfic #my fics #to have a friend #hi im dy ign

[saladbroth]

Late Night Anomalies

My slightly belated contribution to Day 4 of @seungchuchuweek Free day (Crushing, sort of getting together, Coffee Shops)

Phichit is exremely tired on his usual train ride home, decides to sneakily take a phot of his kind-of-crush he always sees and fails to do so. They meet again in a coffee shop when Phichit is too sleep deprived to find a way home. They meet a third time in a restaurant, thirdwheeling (and fifthwheeling) and Phichit has a weird but great idea.

Phichit is tired. He is so tired that he actually considers taking that one fucking picture for Yuuri, that he has been begging him to take. Because, even though Phichit is tired as hell he cannot under any circumstances fall asleep. The guy is in the train. Again. Which shouldn’t be as surprising as it is to Phichit at the moment, because, goddamnit he’s been on the same train as Phichit for the last two months. It’s very probably just because Phichit hasn’t slept in the last 56 hours due to his exams and bus shooting schedule so he is just living in some kind of trance where apparently everything surprises him. Even the regular appearance of the pretty Korean guy who is sitting a few feet away from him.

And because Phichit is really, really tired and apparently exceptionally careless today he decides to try to take a sneaky photograph of Pretty guy and send it to Yuuri so he can gush about him later.  Phichit fumbles to get his phone out of his pocket and almost drops it in the process of doing so, the short moment of panic waking him up a little. It only lasts for a few seconds though, before his mind is clouded with fatigue again. Phichit presses the home button and the screen lights up immediately. His three hamsters are his wallpaper and he smiles at them before remembering what he actually had wanted to do. Take a photo of Pretty Korean, without him noticing. Shouldn’t be too hard, Phichit is like, super good at taking photos subtly, otherwise he wouldn’t have that much blackmail material of any of his friends.

Phichit goes to his camera and raises his hone while pretending to type. He’s trying very hard not to look suspicious while also doing his best to find a nice looking angle. When Phichit finds it, he takes the photo. And the lightning goes of. And Pretty Korean looks up, at him, directly. Phichit thinks that he wants to die now. Or at least disappear. Dark grey eyes are boring into him and he shamefully lowers his phone to his lap and starts chewing on his lips. “Uhm.” he says and curses himself because normally he would probably be able to make a joke or something. The Korean raises his eyebrows, then looks Phichit directly into the eyes for a few seconds, before turning away. Phichit looks away fastly too and feels himself blushing deeply. It’s too late for anything and he’s just too tired to deal with his embarrassment . So he just pushes the thoughts aside and closes his eyes for a second.

“I’m sorry sir, you fell asleep and I don’t want you to miss your stop, so where do you need to get out?” a female voice pulls him out of his sleep. Phichit startles and looks up to see a woman with long dark hair in a braid and violet eyes. He opens his mouth to say something but doesn’t manage to get anything out except for a sound that’s somewhere between “Hu?” and a yawn. She smiles. “Which station do you need to get off the train? I hope it’s not too late already.” she repeats and Phichit finally feels in a state of being able to answer. He looks at the signs, where the next stations are announced and realizes that he has missed his station. His groan seems to give the woman her answer and she gives him a pitying look.

“Thank you for waking me up, though. That’s really nice.” Phichit says and picks up his backpack from underneath his seat. She nods at him and make her way down the waggon to wake up another sleeping passenger. It’s dark out, Phichit realizes when he gets off at the next stop and he tries to find his orientation. His mind is still hazy and Phichit walks up to one of the train line’s plans. It turns out, that he is not that far away from his actual stop so he just decides to walk. The movement and the fresh air will probably do him good. So he starts his way, with no real destination or actual knowledge of what he’s doing. About fifteen minutes later he is pretty sure he’s lost. Or just too tired to actually recognize anything. His salvation comes in form of a coffee shop. The smell hits him when somebody enters the shop and Phichit stops dead in his tracks staring at it. He sees one barista behind the counter and two people sitting by the windows and decides to get himself some caffeine to get home safely.

Phichit regrets it though, as soon as he enters. Because behind the counter stands the Pretty Korean, looking up when the doorbell jingles. He squints at Phichit and recognition passes over his face, before it falls into a passive and neutral mask. Phichit shifts uncomfortably but he can’t leave now, because a) that would make things even more awkward and b) he really wants a coffee. So, he strides over to the counter and puts on a smile. He tries to, but considering his lack of sleep he isn’t sure if it works. “Hello, welcome to Crispino’s Café, what can I get for you?” Pretty Korean says and Phichit squints at his nametag. Seung-Gil, it says. Well, at least he now knows the name of the handsome man. Phichit thinks that Seung-Gil is handling their kind of awkward situation really professional. Well, he guesses that Seung-Gil has to, and Phichit understands because he himself works in a clothing store on weekends and he is very professional. He just helps people, even when they argue and he is very good at saying not so nice things when people choose the wrong things in a nice way. And especially that one time, when the three girls were gossiping like hell while shopping he didn’t start gossiping with them or stopped doing his work to eavesdrop. No, he just continued refolding shirts because; Phichit is in fact, very professional as well.

Also he’s been daydreaming he realizes as Seung-Gil clears his throat and has his eyebrows raised. Honestly, his eyebrows are even more amazing up close. Very dark and bushy and they are angled nicely. Phichit starts wondering if Seung-Gil gets them done professionally. “Sir? Are you going to order anything or just keep staring into thin air and keeping me from cleaning?” the Korean says, and there’s a hint of annoyance in his voice. Not so professional then, Phichit could have done that better, he is sure. And he’s almost slipping into his thoughts again. Goddamn fatigue. “Uh, yeah. Sorry,” he says and stands up straighter (he starts laughing internally at that) “Uh. Like, could you maybe just fill a big cup with espresso?” he asks after scanning the Café’s menu. The barista looks at him, questioningly. “I’m pretty sure that much caffeine is not good for health,” he says.

“Yeah, well. Neither is staying up for almost sixty hours and standing under stress during that time, but here I am,” Phichit comments. Seung-Gil’s eyebrows are amazing, because he can lift a single one. It’s really fucking unfair that he is this pretty and so talented. “Well then. Are you sure you don’t just want a big cup with black coffee?” he questions. “Not to be rude or anything, but like, shouldn’t you just accept my order without questioning it?” Phichit counters. “I would, but it’s part of the contract to watch out for students who want a shitload of caffeine in the middle of the night.” Seung-Gil says and puts his hands on the counter, leaning on it. “Hm. Wait how do you know I’m a student?” “Who else would want that much caffeine after not having slept for a long time when it’s exam time in universities?”

“I guess I didn’t consider that. Can you just please, please get me something big and warm that wakes me up enough so I can get home safely without falling asleep on the sidewalk?” Phichit asks, exasperated. “If you’re that tired why don’t you just take a taxi?” Seung-Gil suggests. Phichit has to laugh at that: “I’m a student. How the hell am I supposed to be able to pay a taxi?” “You seem to have enough money for coffee.” “A cup of coffee is hardly more expensive than a taxi unless you’re at Starbucks which I am not, for obvious reasons,” Phichit says. He then stifles a yawn.

Seung-Gil seems to consider that then says: “I’ll make you something. Not that liquid heart attack but something to wake up a little. Name?” “How should I know what that thing is called? You are the barista in here, not me,” Phichit questions. “Not the name of the drink. Yours,” Seung-Gil explains and grabs a paper cup as well as a pen. “Oh,” Phichit suddenly feels stupid, “Uhm. Phichit. With P H” he adds. Because every coffee shop he’s ever been to, got that wrong. “Alright. Wait here, will you?” Seung-Gil says and scribbles on the cup before starting to bustle around the machines. Phichit watches and his eyelids start fluttering again, weighing a lot more than usual.

“So. Uhm. I just wanted to say sorry for taking that picture of you in the train. It’s just, you’re like, really pretty and my friend didn’t believe me, so I wanted to give him proof and I didn’t know the lightning was still on,” Phichit apologizes, finally. He feels better instantly. “Yeah, it was kind of clear that you didn’t know. You looked really surprised,” Seung-Gil says, deadpan. Maybe Phichit doesn’t feel better. He isn’t sure yet. So he just laughs nervously and uncomfortably and then sighs. He’ll probably regret his actions later. Seung-Gil turns around again, the cup in his hand. He puts it on the counter and punches something in the cash register. Phichit is suddenly fascinated by the steam that curls into the air from the cup. It’s forming figures for a split second and then changes again. “The steam is almost as pretty as you, Seung-Gil,” he says and doesn’t even really register the slight blush spreading on the Koreans face.

He explains what’s in the cup to Phichit – a lot of black coffee, one double espresso, caramel milk and two shots of hazelnut syrup. Phichit is mesmerized by the way he talks and his voice and doesn’t even listen properly to Seung-Gil. He pays and takes his cup and then Phichit is really surprised by how good it tastes. “What did you put in there? It’s so good!” he exclaims and Seung-Gil looks confused. “Maybe I’ll tell you another time. Just get home and sleep,” he says. “Yes, I’ll do that. Thank you! Goodbye!” Phichit says and leaves. The coffee is the best thing ever and he makes his way home, safely, even managing to properly change and brush his teeth before he falls into his bed and sleeps right away. In the next morning (or rather, afternoon because he wakes up at 2.30 PM) he gets embarrassed again and spends good five minutes groaning and cringing. Then he sees his coffee cup, standing on his bedside table and is surprised that his name is actually written right for once.

He becomes a regular at Crispino’s though in the two weeks he’s been going there now he’s only met the grumpy barista Michele, the excited Emil and Georgi who’s kind of dramatic but in a nice way. Two weeks after the Seung-Gil incident (that Leo and Guang Hong found so funny they laughed for about half an hour) he is having dinner with Yuuri and Viktor. Bad idea. He seems to have forgotten that he third wheels literally every time they go out together. It’s not like they’re doing it on purpose they just start talking and kissing and giggling among themselves at some point while Phichit sits next to them contemplating his life. This time they had wanted to meet up as a trio because Phichit belongs to the official Viktuuri-Wedding-Planner-Squad. As Yuuri’s best friend and best man they had wanted to talk about guests, decoration, stuff like and somehow it’s turned into Viktor and Yuuri sharing loving glances and talking about how amazing the other will look in his tuxedo. Phichit watches the other people in the restaurant and chokes on his water when he spots Seung-Gil six tables away.

The Korean is sitting together with two girls and two other guys and Phichit takes out his phone to zoom in closer on them, to almost choke again when he realizes that the guys are, in fact Michele and Emil. One of the girls has her back to him but she’s got bright red hair. The other one has long black hair and when she shifts a bit Phichit recognizes her as the woman from the train, that woke him up. In the following half an hour Phichit watches the other table closely and still keeps up with Yuuri and Viktor. It gets obvious that Seung-Gil is fifth wheeling pretty soon. Phichit feels his pain and looks back at Viktor and Yuuri who are scrolling through some locations on their phones. When he looks back to the other table again, Seung-Gil is gone. Phichit feels kind of disappointed and promptly starts looking around the restaurant, trying to spot Seung-Gil eventually taking his phone’s camera for help.

“Honestly, did nobody ever teach you that it’s impolite to take photos of people without their consent?” a voice says next to Phichit who jumps and turns around to see Seung-Gil standing a few feet away from his chair. “Uhm,” Phichit says intelligently “Actually I was watching you fifth wheeling your group over there and wanted to know where you went. Which now, that I said it, sounds really weird.” Seung-Gil raises his eyebrows. He looks really good, he’s wearing a black turtle neck with long sleeves and how did Phichit never see this gorgeous jawline before? “It doesn’t seem as if your two companions give you that much attention right now, does it? So you’re not in a better position than me,” Seung-Gil says. “I never claimed to be! Also, they’re planning their wedding!” Phichit protests.

Seung-Gil gives the two at Phichit’s table a look and seems about to go, when Phichit is struck with an idea. “Hey! Okay, so I have an idea that’s actually somewhat weird, but I think I fucked up any first impression anyway so it doesn’t matter. Do you want to get out of here? We could go for a walk or something, I mean, it’s better than watching your friends being in love, right?” he proposes quickly. Seung-Gils stops mid turn and looks at him, is eyebrows are scrunched together in confusion. “Are you serious?” he asks incredulous. “Yeah? Kind of? Would I have asked otherwise?” “We don’t know each other though?” “A lot can change in a night?” Seung-Gil keeps staring at Phichit like he’s trying to figure something out.

“I guess? I’ll just say my goodbyes, I think. Meet you outside in ten.” the Korean says finally and just walks of to his table. “Guys, I think I’m gonna go home now, yeah? We can meet up some other time to talk about your wedding,” Phichit addresses Yuuri and Viktor, who look up and nod. They all say their goodbyes to each other and Phichit leaves the money for his food and gathers his stuff up. He’s pretty sure that they are going to have sex later. Then Phichit exits the restaurant, wrapping himself up in his coat. It’s getting warmer but it’s still cold so he slings his Bordeaux coloured scarf around his neck. He’s glad he put makeup on today, because he looks better than two weeks ago with it on his face. Seung-Gil comes out shortly after, wearing a coat as well. It’s black and has a high collar and he looks very attractive in it.

“So, where do you want to go?” he asks and regards Phichit with alert eyes. “The river. It’s pretty there.” Phichit decides and Seung-Gil nods, approvingly. They start walking in silence and then Phichit speaks up: “I’ve been coming to Crispino’s a lot lately. Haven’t seen you there anymore though.” “Michele told me. And I only work the late night shifts.” Seung-Gil answers  and Phichit can see, that he is being watched from the corner of Seung-Gil’s eyes. “I think I have to apologize for my behaviour that day. I was really out of it, back then,” Phichit says and looks at the ground he’s walking on. The cracks in the sidewalk seem very interesting right now. “It’s okay, I guess. I mean, you seemed to be weird and yes, you taking a photograph of me wasn’t really the most pleasant experience for both of us, but I thought you were funny,” Seung-Gil says then pauses a few seconds before continuing. ”Did anyone ever tell you that you seem kind of drunk when you are really tired?”

Phichit laughs and says: “Yeah, I’m actually told a lot. I don’t even know why I get like that. Normally I’m better at social stuff without making a complete fool of myself.” Seung-Gil looks at him shortly before turning back forward. “I’m not trying to be rude, I’m just blunt, as I’ve been told, but you generally see to be a bit weird. A good kind of weird, because normally I wouldn’t talk this much to someone I don’t know. I’m not really good at interacting with others,” he says and scratches the back of his head. Phichit is observing him and waits, so Seung-Gil can add something if he wants to. He does. “I don’t normally just take walks with people, not even my friends.  I know it may sound weird, but you make me feel kind of comfortable.” Phichit blushes at the words, and if his eyes don’t betray him, then so does Seung-Gil.

They’re nearly by the river now. “I’ve been told that I have this kind of effect on people,” Phichit says. They lapse into silence again, but it’s not uncomfortable. They reach the promenade near the river and somehow seem to have the same thought, because both Phichit and Seung-Gil move to the handrails and sit down. The river is about seven meters underneath them and Phichit sits down, leaving his legs to dangle freely over the edge of the wall and leaning on the lower bar of the handrail with his arms. Seung-Gil sits down next to him shortly after and they just watch the water flow by for a few minutes, the light of the streetlamps glittering beneath them on the water. “So, what do you do except saving the lives of sleep deprived students?” Phichit asks. “I study veterinary medicine. What about you?” “That’s really cool. I study media and communication and I try myself at professional photography,” Phichit answers. Seung-Gil makes a soft sound. “That seems like it fits to you. Many people that know me always think I should study something like law. Or, well, it’s mostly my family saying that. But they are really conservative and I don’t have that much contact with them.” he says and turns his head a bit to the left, so that he is looking at Phichit.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, no offense. I didn’t even tell Sara about it, and she is what I consider my closest friend.” Seung-Gil adds. “As I said, I have that kind of effect on people. Also, with some people in live it just clicks. Look at Yuuri and me for example. The dark haired guy with the glasses at my table. He’s really socially anxious, shy as hell and not talkative at all, but we are best friends. When we met some years ago, he only talked much to me, and nobody else. And his fiancé, the silver haired guy, Viktor, it took him ages for Yuuri to finally talk to him properly. Viktor once said I am a fountain of good feelings and comfort, which is why anxious or laid back people talk to me a lot  and find it easier to open up.” Phichit says thoughtfully and shifts a bit. “Well, he’s not wrong. Sara, she is the one with the black hair and one of the owners of Crispino’s says that I am just too blunt for my own good at times. Which is true, but she also says that I can be enjoyable company if I want to be,” Seung-Gil mumbles.

“Wait, Sara is one of the owners? Holy crap, the world is so small.” Phichit exclaims and can’t help the grin spreading on his face. Seung-Gil shoots him a questioning look. “The evening I first came into the Crispino’s she was the one to wake me up on the train. I’ve overslept my station. So I wanted to walk home, and well, the rest is history.” Phichit tells him. “I know you overslept your stop.” Seung-Gil says and then blushes hard. “What? How?” Phichit asks. “I mean, we did take the same train home for two months, and I may have noticed you before you tried to take that photo,” the Korean explains. They sit in silence again, both blushing.

“Tell me more about your friends.” Phichit demands, after having set in silence for some time. Seung-Gil seems to be taken by surprise but still comlplies. “Sara and Michele, I assume you know him, they are siblings and own the Café. Sara still works at an animal shelter and Michele studies psychology in his first semester. They’ve had some disputes in the past, because he was really protective of her and went overboard. It got better thought, because of Emil, you know him too I think. Emil has been crushing on Michele ever since High School and two years ago befriended him. They’re together now, and Michele’s and Sara’s relationship is a lot healthier than before. Mila, the redhead, she is a dance instructor and local theatre actress so she doesn’t have the time to work at the Café, but she is Sara’s girlfriend,” Seung-Gil explains. It’s a lot, what he says and he’s not used to it. Phichit can tell by the way Seung-Gil swallows a lot as if to keep excess saliva out of his mouth and the way he licks his lips after talking. Yuuri did the same in the beginning of their friendship, though what seems to be evolving between Phichit and Seung-Gil can hardly be seen as friendship, not from Phichit’s side at least.

So Phichit starts talking about his friends. The very extra Viktor and the way he and Yuuri are just too in love. He talks about Yuri Plisetsky, the ever angry design student and his boyfriend Otabek Altin who studies music. He tells Seung-Gil about Leo de la Iglesia, one of his oldest friends and Leo’s boyfriend Guang Hong, who is an art student and the most talented person Phichit knows. He enjoys telling the Korean about his hamsters and his shenanigans with Yuuri and Viktor, the shit Yuri starts and the movie nights he has with hi older sisters. Seung-Gil is a good listener and when Phichit is done talking he smiles, and thanks Phichit for telling him all of this. They talk longer. It’s nothing remarkable. Books, movies, music, countries they want to travel to. Things they want to do some day, and they don’t realize that time is passing. It’s almost midnight when they do, and together they walk to the next train station. They talk during the ride, until Seung-Gil announces that he has to get off the next one.

They hastily exchange phone numbers and then Seung-Gil turns gets up and turns around to Phichit. “I’ve had a great night, and I want to thank you for it.” he says with a small smile on his face. Phichit likes that smile, a lot. “I can only say thank you.” he answers and grins up at the Korean. It’s Seung-Gil’s stop. The train slows down and comes to a halt. Seung-Gil looks at Phichit once again. “I don’t do this, normally, but this night is a night of anomalies, so.” he says and before Phichit can say anything Seung-Gil has walked back to him, leaned down and kissed him on the lips. It’s short, too short for Phichit’s liking, but Seung-Gil is out of the door before he can react and the train sets into motion again. Phichit is absolutely stunned. His phones notifications go of.

from: Seung-Gil Lee It seems that you weren’t the only one to find somebody on your  train to home attractive.

to: Seung-Gil Lee That’s good to know. Especially if I want to ask somebody that I find attractive on my train ride home if he wants to go out to grab some coffee tomorrow. ;)

from: Seung-Gil Lee Be glad that that somebody works at a coffee shop so you can get coffee without having to pay. See you tomorrow at 2/ Crispino’s?

to: Seung-Gil Lee Yes! Looking forward to it, sleep well!

from: Seung-Gil Lee You too, don’t stay up to long or you’ll space out all the time and talk nonsense. Which is actually nothing bad. It’s sort of cute.

Phichit is a little bit tired, but he’s also feeling like he’s melting. And it’s great.

#seungchuchu #seungchuchuweek #Seung-gil Lee #phichit chulanont

[happypillfanfic]

CHAPTER 15

Sky:

I literally cannot process the attitude I have flowing through me right now as I sit here being forced to pee on a stick. And, the fact that I hear him pacing just outside the door, yeah, that’s definitely making things worse so I decided to take my sweet time and let him sweat it out. I mean, come on, I don’t need this stupid stick telling me something I already know. After wasting about ten minutes, I flung open the door and stormed past him leaving the results on the sink for hm to see himself.

“Oh, and I’m ready to go home now, thanks.” I sassed

“Baby.” He sighed walking after me “My bad, alright? You just been acting kind of weird and after a few drinks, Rodney had me thinking a little crazy.” He admitted rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“So why not just ask?” I snapped “Jesse I would tell you if I thought we were having a scare. And, as for acting weird, I’m pretty sure I tried explaining to you earlier that my birthday was coming up and it puts me in a not so good head space. Oh, also... if we’re talking about possible babies, why aren’t we knocking down kendra’s door to make her take a test?” I griped putting my hand on my hip

It wasn’t really my intentions to throw that in his face but I was so hot about this situation I just blabbed whatever I thought would piss him off in the moment, and I could definitely see that I had struck a nerve... but, come on, it literally was just a few months ago that she brought her possible pregnancy to him and I haven’t heard a word about it since.

“Alright,” he nodded narrowing his eyes at me “You really foul as fuck for that one.” He muttered “Seriously?”

I rolled my eyes at the back of his head and followed him outside to the car. Well shit, if he wanted to have an attitude, then I was damn sure gonna have one too, so you already know I made damn sure to slam the door hard as I slid back into the car.

“Watch my shit.” He hollered

“Fuck your shit, and fuck you too. Take me home!”

He sucked his teeth and let his head fall back against the head rest. I could see the defeated look on his face, but it wasn’t fazing me. I might be foul for what I said, but he was just as foul for forcing me to take that test without even saying a word about it to me first. Two can definitely play that game.

“Baby.” He spoke up softly “I’m sorry. I really don’t wanna fuss with you.”

“Jesse, just take me home.”

“Na. For real, you not going no place until we straighten this shit out. I care about you way to much for all that.”

“Who are we kidding? I’m too fucked up in the head to try and be in some relationship. I seriously just can deal with all of this right now. You’re better off without me- you and I both know that... and you know what, I’ll just walk home.”

“Hell na. Get your ass back in thus car.” He demanded as I attempted to walk off

I didn’t get but about ten steps before he was on my heels. I hadn’t realized that I was crying until tears had fogged up my eyes. He kept trying to wrap his arms around me to offer some comfort but I just kept pushing him away until I could bare it anymore and we both fell into the grass beneath us as I now sobbed.

“I told you, I told you! I’m too broken... just let me go.’

“I can’t do that Sky.” He said calmly “I’m not leaving you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well if you won’t, then I guess I will.” I said finally cathcning my breath “I need to fix myself first. I can’t do this with you anymore.”

“Sky, please don’t do this. Over one little argument? Really? I said I was sorry.”

“It’s so much more that that. Mentally, right now, I can’t handle being in a relationship. As much as I care about you, this is just something that I have to do.”

“Sky...”

“Please take me home now.”

Without saying another word, he stood to his feet and helped me up. He held my hand tightly as he walked me back to the car and dimly smiled at me as he closed the door. I seriously wanted to scream the entire way back to my house, that’s just how horrendously quiet and awkward the space in the car was between the two of us. I was hurting so bad I had to force myself to focus my gaze out the window. I was afraid that if I looked at him I would cave in go back on everything.

“This... this isn’t for good right, Sky?” He asked as we pulled up in front of the house.

“Goodbye Jess.”

I slipped out of the car quickly and rushed inside. Once I was finally behind the closed door, I knew I was safe to break down freely once again. I felt so hurt, and so wrong to sit there with tears running down my face, but I know deep in my heart that I am doing the right thing.

“Honey, what’s the matter, are you alright?”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you- I’m fine. I promise.”

“Doesn’t look like it. Come here.”

She hugged me briefly before walking me into the living room and sitting us on the couch. I could see in her face that she wanted to pry but she just stayed quiet and waited for me to make the next move, and I have never appreciated anymore so much. Considering most of my life has been giving statements and therapy sessions, it was... relaxing to know I finally had control over the situation.

“I’m alright, auntie.” I assured her “It’s just been a seriously long night and I was put in a difficult position and I’m pretty sure I broke Jesse’s heart. It’s just that I’m kinda struggling mentally right now and I can feel it affecting out relationship so I let him go...”

“Well I appreciate that you shared this with me, and I can understand that you’re struggling, but with everything you’ve been through, it might be crazy to not be struggling. I know how much you two cared about each other so I’m sure he understands- even if it’s just a little bit. I’m proud of you, honey.”

“Thanks auntie. I’m gonna get some rest. I definitely need it if I’m going to have any chance at passing these tests tomorrow.”

“Come knock on my d or if you need anything, okay?”

“I will auntie. Goodnight.”

I laid in bed with a heavy heart and a heavy mind, but I knew it was going to be alright. If Jesse and I are going to have any chance at being happy together I have to work on myself and get back in the right headspace... but, first things first- finals.

Jesse:

I slept maybe like a total of three hours, and it was safe to say that I had no chance at passing any of these bullshit tests today. They were on the back burner right now, all I cared about was seeing Sky, even if it was for only a brief second but after my first three classes had passed without any sight of her, I was thinking that was out of the question.

“Where’s Sky?” I asked sitting down at the lunch table next to Jae. “I haven’t seen her all day and I know she cares about her grades way too much to just ditch these stupid ass tests.”

“Oh, yeah... she came in early and took all of her tests in the guidance office with her counselor. She’s already done and headed home now. She wasn’t in a very good place so mom called in to make things a little easier for her. She was up all night having these weird episode.”

“Episodes?” I asked raising a brow

“I shouldn’t be the one telling her business like this, but, she came home really upset last night and all throughout the night she kept having these really insane panic attacks. Like, I’m talking fine one second and the next she was bawling until she couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t catch her breath. It was so scary. Mom had to stay in the room with her over night so she wouldn’t hyperventilate. It’s all normal with her bi polar depression, mom said sometimes stress or overwhelming situations can trigger them.”

“It’s all my fucking fault.” I sighed rubbing my hands down my face “It’s all because of me...”

“Not even. With Sky’s condition, she actually needs meds and-“

“Na, Jae... you don’t understand. I made her take these pregnancy tests and-“

“Woah, hold it. Did you say pregnancy tests?” She muttered low interrupting me.

“They were negative...” I sighed shrugging

“Jesse, what the hell?”

“It just... Man, I don’t know. It just happened. She was fussing at me about making her take it one minute, and the next she’s bawling telling me that she’s broken and shit. I didn’t understand it really but she said she needed some space to fucking fix herself or whatever... but she never seemed broken to me... I just miss her already....”

“Jess I’m so so sorry. Well, her birthday is literally tomorrow, why don’t you help me set something up for her. I’m sure she could use a little pick me up, I mean shit, she’s obviously hurting too ya know?”

“Yeah, I feel you.”

“Oh, looks like you have a visitor.” She muttered nodding over to Kendra who was standing just behind me

“Not now.” I barked shaking my head at her. “I can’t deal with you right now.”

“You don’t look too busy to me with your little girlfriend MIA and what not.” She snickered

“Don’t get hit in your mouth today.” Jae warned

“Whatever. I’m just saying, do I need to remind you why you stayed in my line?”

“Just back off. Do I look interested in your used up shit right now?”

“When you miss how I taste you know where I stay.”

Jae went to get up after her as she walked away but I quickly stopped her and sat her back down. I’m done entertaining her ass and Jae was not about to give her the attention she was fishing for, fuck all that.”

“You better handle that.” Jae snapped “Before I do.”

“Get real Jaedyn, you know I don’t want anything to do with her.”

“Wassup wassup.” Rodney said announcing himself as he took a seat next to Jae, greeting her with a kiss “Aight, so, one why I just see your girl ducking out early she ain’t eating with us? And two why was Kendra’s nasty ass over here?” He asked

“First off, fuck that bitch she’s irrelevant and secondly, mind your business.” I muttered “But we’re just taking a break is all.”

“Oh shit. My bad, my bad.”

“It’s good. You guys do your thing. I’m gonna get out of here.”

I slipped out the front doors of the school and hurried over to my car before the security could stop me. As I hopped into my car I heard the passenger side door open and my eyes went wide... I must have looked at this bitch like she had three heads.

“Yo, get the fuck out of here.” I shouted “Why the fuck did you follow me Kendra?”

“What? Don’t act like your’re not interested. After all, I don’t see Sky around so?’

“You are so fucking foul! Leave me alone!”

I knew she wasn’t going to move her ass so I quickly texted Jae and told her to hurry to my car and thankfully she was there in less than a minute.

“What’s going on?” She asked raising a brow while Kendra just laughed

“Yo ge this bitch out of my car!” I hollered

“You can either leave on your own terms, or I can make you leave. You chose, and you better hurry.” Jae warned

“Whatever. You’re just mad that I got to him first... again.” She snickered “Get real. Acting like your panties haven’t been wet for him your entire friendship. Jealous ass bitch.”

Jae flew over to the passenger side door and yanked that bitch out to the ground by her hair. The whole time she was screaming but I let Jae have her moment. Kendra was too bold for her own good, and I mean, Jae did warn her. Once enough was enough I hopped out and pulled Jae off of her and tossed her in the car.

“So.. them panties stay wet for me huh?” I asked chuckling as we pulled out of the school parking lot

“Fuck off, no. I don’t even know what that crazy dumb bitch was talking about.”

“Quit playing me Jae.” I teased

She stayed quiet for the rest of our drive but I could see how red her cheeks were, and I was definitely getting to the bottom of it. As soon as we pulled up in front of my house she yanked the keys from my hand and rushed in.

“Okay, Jae.” I shouted walking in. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?” She questioned plopping down onto the couch “That you’re full of shit? Yeah, I’ll second that one.”

“I don’t want you, drop it” she sassed folding her arms over her chest

“Prove it.” I challenged taking the seat next to her

“Prove it? Prove it?” She laughed “And how would I do that?”

I pulled her into my lap and kissed her lightly. In all honesty, it was completely innocent but it was escalating too fast and before I knew it she was letting out a soft moan against my lips.

“Stop, stop.” She muttered lowly pulling away from me “What the hell was that?”

“Calm down Jaedyn we was just fooling around. It definitely not that deep.”

“But... what about Rodney? My boyfriend, your best friend?”

“Quit buggin. Don’t be mad because Kendra outed your ass.” I teased

“You know what, fuck you. Why would you even believe anything that bitch says?”

“Cause ya’ll used to be close friends.” I shrugged

“For your information, after being dogged out by Kaleb for some south side bitch at a party an hour away I got faded, and yeah I confided in her about your dumb ass.”

“Mhm.”

“Not about that. I told her that if you weren’t such a hoe I could definitely need someone like you in my life, but little did I know already had your dick was already well acquainted with her. I never once claimed to want you. And even though me and Rodney just kinda fell into place, I really care about him and our relationship so that’s why I’m buggin.”

“Ya’ll need to fuck already or something man.”

“That is definitely none of your business... but, we are.”

“False.”

“And how do you figure?”

“Jaedyn, if ya’ll are fuckin something just ain’t right cause my ass definitely just had you moaning after on kiss, so it’s one of two things either he ain’t doing you right, or he ain’t doing you at all.”

“What the fuck ever. It’s just a little awkward between us is all... our first few times didn’t go so well and he’s been a little nervous about it all.”

“Word? What happened?”

“I’m just not as experienced as he is so..”

“I hear you, I hear you.”

I was ragging her for buggin, but I guess it was me who was really buggin. Thes past couple of months Sky has been attached to my hips and it’s really killing me that I haven’t seen her all day... I’m so worried about her... this is so much harder than I ever thought it would be...

-

#chris brown #chris brown fan fic

[beartes22]

More Zoyalai

So this is like...crackish. But I had a lot of fun writing it so...

(In all fairness, this is a scenario that could legitimately occur in canon, maybe. I hope)

Nikolai was radiating nervous energy, as if he were ready to burst into action but the timing was not right.

Zoya was part saint, part dragon, part tiger, part herself and it was driving her mad. On one hand, Juris and his dragon urges were one and the same. “Don’t submit to anyone” “You are a queen” “The world is a platter you can reach” “Aniquilate the Darkchild”. On the other, that line of thinking had led her to this path.

A path she clearly should regret a lot more she does. Ironic, how her prideful ways had cost her all dignity.

(Honestly, she was this close to do a Nina Zenik, cut herself some bangs as a disguise and go to lose herself in the fjerdians whatever, finding inappropriate lovers and liberating Grisha all the way.

Although maybe the bangs were a little overdramatic, as much as killing Fjerdians sounded therapeutic)

Zoya had been in some remote cave for hours and still hasn’t gathered the strength to look up from where she has buried her head into her hands.

Nikolai’s baffled silence was not helping matters.

“I...did you just? Kidnapped me as a dragon? In my wedding day? In front of a thousand witnesses? A dragon!?”

Zoya took it back. His silence was better than the alternative.

“This is Juris’ fault” She muttered bitterly against her palms, unable to look at him. Unable to look at anything. 

“...Since when are you half-dragon?” Nikolai was still at it. Relentless as ever “I mean I knew you were different. Your glare had gotten so much better but a dragon!?”

How inconvenient.

“It’s a Grisha thing”

It was an excuse that had come in handy a lot of times. Incredibly, considering how shabby it was.

“Still. A dragon?” Nikolai shook his head. She had not looked but she knew. The air moved with him. The smell his movement made. The sounds. Her senses were overwhelming like that. Some days, if she concentrated enough, she felt as if she were drowning in him.

She was not as adverse to the situation as she should, which was a problem she should not have overlooked. Look at where ignoring problems got her.

Zoya took a breath, gathered whatever dignity she could find and didn’t look at Nikolai at all. She would act as if nothing ever happened and, if the Saints don’t want to end like Elizaveta, it would hopefully work. 

“May I remind you, you are part volcra”

“Point” Nikolai tilted his head. Zoya didn’t let herself hope “Are you going to explain yourself or are we remaining in this cave until Tolya and Tamar come at you for kidnapping the king of Ravka on his wedding day?” He asked, more curious than mad. Things like these were the reason why Zoya didn’t believe in Saints. 

They don’t give you a fucking break. 

Taking a deep breath, for patience and strength, Zoya considered the situation. It wasn’t pretty. A Dragon kidnapped the King in front of a thousand witnesses in the royal wedding. A dragon that was Zoya herself. Because she let her feelings get the best of her.

“...We are waiting” She decided. Wisely. 

“Never took you for a coward Nazyalensky”

“It’s a new development. It comes with the knowledge that I will never live this moment down” She finally turned her head, looking at him. He was as handsome as ever in his wedding attire, even after the flight. The want was overwhelming. The bitterness rising in her chest felt like flames to burn that mediocre princess, Ehri.

At least Alina was interesting. That Shu Han garbage was just self-pity incarnated.

“Well,” Nikolai averted his eyes “I’m sure there was some emergency you have not told me about, don’t be so hard on yourself”

Zoya re-buried her head in her hands, vaguely wandering through Juris memories half-hoping the knowledge on how to make the ground swallow her was lost somewhere. It was not.

You are strong enough to survive the fall

Zoya has never met someone so infuriating in her life. She should have left him to die, that bond was clearly a mistake. Her life will be much easier without it, amplifier or not.

“There was no emergency” She managed to say between her teeth.

“...Explain yourself” Nikolai’s voice was not cold, no, not really. But it was serious, lacking in joy and charm and that Saints damned edge of relief when he realized he wouldn’t be a husband that day. It was an order from her King.  

Zoya didn’t want to obey. There are falls, she thought hysterically, that one hopes not to survive.

“I- My feelings got in the way of my duty” She admitted, the words were as painful as any lost battle, her pride stinging with humiliation. The dragon was too close to the surface, a snarl of disgust almost overtaking her.  

“I don’t understand”

“I” She enunciated with barely contained rage. How dare he be this obtuse, now of all moments “could not stand to see you married”

A beat.

“But I thought you wanted me to?”

Ravka falling to ruin or not, Zoya will murder him. He sounds honestly baffled, incredulous as if Zoya hadn’t been pining after him since the moment she met him.

(Well maybe not pining, exactly. At least outwardly. Genya said no one noticed.)

“I overreacted.” She forced herself to remain calm “I am sorry, your highness”

“...You overreacted when you planned my marriage or when you dramatically whisked me away from the altar?”

“The second one” She managed to grit out between her teeth

“So you panicked” Nikolai shrugged, wearing casual arrogance effortlessly “it happens to the best of us”

What. The. Hell.

“There was no emergency” Zoya insisted, trying to tell him with her eyes alone the truth. Nikolai was not usually this thick. They have planned entire attacks this way- Complex, everything-that-could-go-wrong-did-go-wrong-but-we-raise-to-the-occasion plans that changed in the middle of battle with just a glance. It’s improbable he can’t read her now.

“I don’t believe that”

Impossible, more like.

“I did not act as your general” She raised her eyebrows significantly

“...Oh.”

Nikolai blinked in the classical ‘I-still-don’t-understand-but-I-already-asked-for-clarification-one-and-I-prefer-never-to-know-than-to-look-like-an-idiot’ look her students tended to wear around her on her bad days. Zoya was very familiar with that look.

She stripped it violently from the little idiots with relish. Now, the only one to find the process painful was herself.

“Or as your friend. Or as someone with Ravka’s best interest at heart”

It was humiliating.

“Then how did you act like?”

Saints help her, especially Elizavbeta. May she ended the job she began and drown her in honey.

“A foolish girl.”

At this Point, Zoya would honestly prefer it.

“...I don’t believe that”

Forget that hag. Zoya will kill him herself. Slowly. Then, she will roam as a dragon, only turning back after centuries because she can’t let herself live with this shame. 

“You are infuriating”

“Coming from you, that’s quite the compliment” Nikolai grinned but the confusion remained in his eyes. What a moron.

“I could not stand to see you marry to another.”

A beat

“What”

Zoya has come too far to back out now. She was a dragon and she did not cower from anything-

“I’m in love with you, Nikolai.”

This was a terrible idea. Awful. Nikolai had actually choked on air. Forget roaming, Zoya was going back into the Fold. Right back.

Juris has been alone and forgotten for centuries. It was not nearly enough to forget this episode but it was a start.

“...What”

Well. That was an answer in itself. If hurt a little (a lot) that he never considered her that way but what was done cannot be undone

“Do you want me to take you back?” The sooner she can start forgetting this mess the better

“What?” Nikolai squeaked. He seems speechless, which she thought impossible. Then, this day was full of impossibilities “Back- I...Give me a minute”

“You are speechless.”

“That you, the most unromantic practical person I have ever met is so in love with me that she has risked everything including the fate of her country transforming into a mystical dragon just to whisk me away from my bride in the most dramatically absolutely romantic escape ever while I had no clue whatsoever of your feelings? Yes, I find I have no words”

“You are right. This was a mistake. I’m taking you back”

“Let me think!! I was not prepared for this, dammit! I…” Nikolai mumbled something to himself “Do you really love me?”

“No. I just kidnap kings for fun”

“You do!?”

“You are usually not this stupid”

“I thought you only tolerated me so excuse me if I am a little shocked!”

“Nikolai, I let myself be drowned in honey by a deranged overpowered unknown for you. I have lost innumerable nights to watch over your volcra escapades. I allowed you to bring the Darkling back to Os Alta.” A pause “Alive.”

“YEs! Because I am the King of Ravka!”

Honestly, Zoya should have let Juris kill him when she had the chance. 

“It’s because you are Nikolai.”

“Stop doing that, it’s uncharacteristic and it’s giving me palpitations” Nikolai hissed, his cheeks a furious red

Zoya ignored all warm feelings of satisfaction on her chest to roll her eyes

“I am done with this. We are going back”

“Fine. But I will not marry Ehri” Nikolai’s eyes were shining with the same mad light of his better schemes. Zoya had a hate-love relationship with that light.

“...I assure you I can control myself”

“I have my doubts of that, all things considered, but that is not the reason.”

Forget love-hate. It was hate-hate.

“Please don’t say anything stupid”

“I, dear Zoya, are a romantic at heart. And I was content to settle for an arranged marriage, certain that my feelings could never be reciprocated”

And just like that, her heart plummeted to the ground.

“...You are still in love with Alina?” She managed to say with a straight face, hoping the heartbreak did not show on her expression. Nikolai stared at her.

“You are an idiot.” He said like insulting her did not cost live or limb “An absolute moron. A walking disaster. How did I not notice? I have been utterly blind”

Zoya tried a few breathing exercises, which did not work considering that her breath was wasted on not laying waste to the disrespectful imbecile in front of her. It said a lot that she did not murder him in that instant. 

“You thought I barely tolerate you” She felt obligated to say. If he were literally anyone else she would have tear him apart for insulting her.

Love was making her soft. And stupid.

“Within reason!”

“What reason?”

“You don’t laugh at my jokes”

“They are not as funny as you think they are”

Nikolai clutched at his heart dramatically

“Lies! Slander! How could you”

“Easily” Zoya rolled her eyes “If you don’t mind could we get to the point?”

“I have recently discovered that my feelings are, in fact, reciprocated” Nikolai deadpanned slowly. Zoya felt insulted. “Which changes things” He continued, uncaring of the sting of Zoya's hurt pride “Because I am not in love with a married woman I have not seen in five years and who I only saw as a dear friend”

So not Alina then. Nikolai was just in love with Another Woman. Cool. Zoya was alright with that, never mind that she just opened her heart at him and then the insensitive ass decided to follow his heart for some undeserving scum who just apparently revealed her feeling-

“...Oh.”

They stared at each other in silence for a long time, processing the new information like complete morons.

(They are responsible for a country. Seeing as they collectively have one whole neuron, it's a wonder Ravka is still standing)

“If I kiss you right now, will you maim me?”

It's not fair he has dimples when he smiles that widely. Zoya's brain is useless like this.

“Only if you want to”

“That’s unfairly hot”

“Everything I do is like that”

Nikolai laughed. Then he kissed her. Zoya threw herself to the kiss as she does anything that interests her in her life. With untamed passion and the determination to demolish whatever stood her way- Nikolai may be half-pirate, despite whatever privateer bullshit but a dragon-

“I can hear you thinking” Nikolai mumbled against her lips, her dimples as deep as she’s ever seen them.

“Then you aren’t doing your job right” Zoya snarled before biting him, as tender and fierce as she was able. 

A dragon hoards. And Nikolai was hers.  

(Tolya had to bleach his eyes when he found them much later. ‘We were going back to the palace in a minute’ his ass.)

#Zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lanstov #kos spoilers #I hope you liked it! I have fun writing morons.

[computerguideworld-blog]

How Game Of Thrones Ends Based On Computer Simulations

New Post has been published on https://computerguideto.com/must-see/how-game-of-thrones-ends-based-on-computer-simulations/

How Game Of Thrones Ends Based On Computer Simulations

We love Game Of Thrones, but it’s not without its flaws. So we ran a 100-percent accurate simulation to see how the story would have played out if the characters didn’t spend half their time sleeping around, torturing each other, and talking about their feelings. The highly advanced technology we used was Nintendo’s Advance Wars: Dual Strike, a 2005 video game about anime characters fighting with tanks.

No gratuitous boobs in this, but we’re sure somebody on the internet has fixed that by now.

We created a map, let the game’s artificial intelligence run amok, and watched as years of rambling storytelling were ruthlessly condensed into 38 minutes of all-out warfare. We also got drunk, watched porn, and grew beards, for maximum authenticity.

So here’s Westeros, which most of you know better than your own country:

And here’s our perfect 1:1 recreation:

*Play for full effect*

The Starks and their allies are red, the White Walkers are blue, and the Lannister-Tyrell alliance is green. Dorne and the Freys’ Twins start off neutral, while Stannis is cut because being overlooked is his lot in life. The Iron Islands are represented on the side, but the Greyjoys aren’t, because the only thing they’ve achieved in five seasons is one very uncomfortable fingering scene, and that can’t be recreated on a Nintendo console until Bayonetta 3 is released.

Across the ocean is Essos, where Daenerys (yellow) has spent five years yelling about slaves while acting entirely with her impressive eyebrows. Here’s her part of the world:

Mother of dragons, first of her name, breaker of chains, protector of pixels.

Now we need to create the Advanced Wars equivalent of 20,000 bearded men who want to kill each other. Game Of Thrones has more political factions than most real countries: Starks, Lannisters, Baratheons, Tyrells, Martells, the Night’s Watch, white walkers, wildlings, the Targaryens, the dozens of interchangeable one-dimensional villains Daenerys has butchered, rogue actors like Littlefinger, that kid who’s way too old to be breastfeeding, and on and on and on. But because most of them are ultimately irrelevant — just like in real life — so we’re chopping this story down to the essentials. First up are the Starks, whose 18,000 men were mostly peasants with pointy objects. So assuming each unit represents 2,000 men, here’s what Robb’s forces look like:

“Nine’s more than enough to invite to a wedding, right?”

The thing that looks like a duck with wheels represents his mounted units, while the soldiers carrying poster rolls / RPG launchers are his knights. And just to his north is a horde of white walkers, which we’ll assume have overrun the wildlings. As for Team Lannister, they start with 20,000 well-trained and equipped soldiers, as well as a small navy …

… while Daenerys has 8,000 Unsullied, 2,000 mercenaries, other miscellaneous soldiers, and three dragons represented by stealth bombers. See, our high-end simulation technology is flawless.

Right down to the dragons’ baffling decision to not simply eat every fleshy human and rule the planet their damn selves.

Snow falls as the war begins, and the very first thing the Starks do is march 2,000 men north to Castle Black and kill 1,000 white walkers.

“You know murder, Jon Snow.”

Fuck. Yes. The walkers were teased from the very first scene of the very first episode, only for 47 more hours to pass before Jon killed a single one. But there are no stories about incest and long shots of people walking endlessly through the wilderness here. The Starks get down to business, taking the walker threat seriously and acknowledging that having the realm’s only line of defense against a terrifying supernatural horde be a collection of poorly-trained rapists isn’t a great idea. While Jon immediately starts the war we’ve been waiting for since episode one, Robb marches the rest of his troops toward the Twins.

It’s amazing the progress you can make in a war when you don’t wait for all your soldiers to die first.

In the show, the Lannisters dealt with their enemies mostly via political machinations and cunning plots. But our Lannister AI said to hell with all that. They also march on the Twins, as well as sending Jaime and Bronn with 4,000 men to take Dorne by force …

… and two assassins equipped with wildfire (represented by remote bombs) straight at the heart of Dany’s forces.

Where, in keeping with the law of the land, they stop and wait while other people do shit.

Dany, meanwhile, sends one team to take Qarth while the rest of her troops march on Meereen, condensing four seasons of wandering and whining into one bold move.

Fire cannot kill a dragon, but boredom can.

So to recap, after a single day of combat, Jon is in charge of the Night’s Watch and leading the battle against the walkers (which, on the show, happened in season five), Robb is at the Twins (season two), Dany’s taking Qarth (season two) and Meereen (seasons three through five), while the Lannisters and Tyrells are actively engaging both of them with actual military tactics (season hasn’t-happened-yet). But while our simulation is cutting the show’s fat, it retains its flair for sudden and dramatic deaths. Sorry, Kit Harington groupies, but the light goes out of Jon’s beautiful doe eyes on Day Two.

“For the article.”

He exploded, and then his corpse vanished, so there’s no convenient resurrection or Jesus metaphors for him. But he takes thousands of walkers with him, and it fulfills something Jon predicted in the show — that the Night’s Watch could survive one night of attacks, but not two. Things go better for the Starks south of the Wall, as Robb, free from the sexy distractions of Charlie Chaplin’s granddaughter, begins his conquest of the Twins.

Amazing what you can get done when you keep your Little Tramp all zipped up.

No sooner do the Starks lay claim than the Lannisters massacre 2,000 of them in a single gruesome day. In no dimension is holing up with Walder Frey a good move.

“The Lannisters send their fuck yous.”

Meanwhile, their wildfire-armed assassins bring Dany’s dragons to the brink of death, and they wipe out three-quarters of her Unsullied in the process — a tactic that is shockingly more effective than one glass of bad wine and Jorah Mormont’s fickle boner.

The Unsullied’s nonexistent boners were simply no match.

Dany responds by merging her dragons into one three-headed terror with some horrible arcane magic and then, ugh, retreating to Meereen and Qarth to rebuild / sit around and grimace. So just like in the show, we get one awesome dragon moment, followed by a whole lot of nothing.

With pixels, it was too hard to tell if she shit herself this time.

On the third day of conflict, the Lannisters and the Starks start their epic battle …

… while the white walkers seize Castle Black. We’re three episodes into the Nintendo DS version of Game Of Thrones, and while there are no tits (a feature we are supplementing by browsing “Busty Asian Beauties” while the simulation runs), everything else is way more awesome.

Aside from Joffrey still running amok instead of choking on poison and vomit.

On the following day, Daenerys flies her hydra-dragon over Dorne, an important world event the Starks and Lannisters completely fail to take note of because they’re too busy massacring each other.

Had the real Daenerys thought of this, George R. R. Martin could’ve moved on to not finishing a whole other series years ago.

Jaime and Bronn’s troops capture Dorne by standing on it, which is slightly more realistic than the fights they got into there in the show:

“First take, nailed it. Cut!”

The Starks are forced to give up ground at the Twins to hold the Wall …

… while Dany’s King Ghidorah kills 200 of Jaime and Bronn’s men.

You make Jaime fight without Brienne constantly saving his ass, and look what happens.

Despite all the awesome action happening elsewhere — a three-headed dragon attacks a city held by two fan favorites — the camera decides to focus on Meereen, where absolutely nothing occurs. Huh, it’s weird that season five’s storylines play out exactly the same in both versions. It’s a great tactic, though — Dany announces her intimidating presence to Westeros with an attack on the one stronghold that resisted her distant ancestors. That will get her more support than five years of sitting around and grumbling ever could.

Over the next few days, the Starks hold Castle Black but lose the Twins to the superior numbers and resources of the Lannisters, Dany expands her holdings in the East, and Jaime and Bronn flee Dany’s dragon, which moves on to harassing Highgarden. The Starks are confined to the North, but there’s a glimmer of hope — the Lannisters land 4,000 men at the Wall, in an apparent sign that they’re willing to put aside their differences and battle the Walker horde …

… Kidding! The Lannisters immediately attack the Starks, right in front of the horde of ice monsters that want to kill them all and rule their corpses. Which is absolutely what a bitter, vengeful, and drunk Cersei would do. For her, it’s better to see the world destroyed than to see her enemies succeed. And all their attack does is benefit the walkers, as there are now even fewer good men standing between them and civilization.

If you can’t trust an incestuous, murdering wino, who can you trust?

With that incredibly destructive act, everyone in the Seven Kingdoms must be cheering for Daenerys’ dragon to slay the short-sighted Lannisters and save Westeros. So it’s a bit anti-climactic when the exhausted dragon runs out of energy, crashes, and dies. Maybe don’t take your storytelling cues from this particular event, George.

The dragon is exactly how Martin feels after writing more than ten words a day.

Still, Daenerys soldiers on, taking most of Essos with good old-fashioned soldiers alone.

No Unsullied victory teabaggings, cause, you know …

The Starks and the Watch successfully repel the Lannisters in the North, while in the South, Moat Cailin continues to hold out remarkably well (just like in the show). But their numbers are depleted, which means …

… the white walkers are south of the wall for the first time in 8,000 years, and we’re still in season one. The Lannisters are able to occupy Winterfell, the seat of their most hated enemy, but it’s a Pyrrhic victory. The walkers soon push them out and seize the North, and with the new resources available to them, they start fielding tanks. We shall assume these tanks are undead. Thanks a lot, Cersei.

Shame! Shame! Shame!

Arya may have escaped and Sansa is probably being sexually assaulted somewhere, but otherwise, the Starks are dead. The last hurrah by the North is a screaming kamikaze attack on the walkers led by Ramsay Bolton — an oddly heroic yet sufficiently crazy way for the show’s most hated character to make his exit. The Lannisters and walkers begin fighting, while Dany builds boats, lands her vanguard, and finds the southern half of Westeros almost completely undefended.

Everyone was distracted while mourning the tragic death of the guy who castrated dudes and raped girls.

She immediately marches on King’s Landing and defeats the remainder of Jaime and Bronn’s weary soldiers.

Sisters and prostitutes everywhere are inconsolable.

Jaime dies in the city he saved, at the hands of the daughter of the madman he saved it from. It’s a dramatically satisfying conclusion to his character, and it begins the great Targaryen-Lannister-Frost-Monster War. The Lannisters are able to rally their troops and defend King’s Landing, but at too much of a cost. The white walkers march to the Twins and start slaughtering them. It’s unclear if the dying soldiers are able to grasp the narrative irony and thematic significance of being massacred there.

“The Braaaaains Of Castamere.”

Dany lands additional troops and makes another attempt at King’s Landing, and the Lannisters are unable to fight off her naval assault — as they did Stannis’ on the show — because they blew their wildfire on their assassination attempt. On Day 22 of the conflict, Daenerys captures King’s Landing:

With the Mother of Ghidorah on the Iron Throne, the Lannister and Tyrell armies disband and their cities declare their loyalty to the new Queen. At this point, the walkers have overrun the North, but Daenerys has the heartland of Westeros and the combined might of Essos behind her. It’s numbers versus resources, with the only question being how efficiently those resources will be used. So it’s the fight the show has been hinting at for years, reached in under half an hour of simulation time.

The “Previously On Game Of Thrones” intro will be nothing but an ad for the one-disc complete series DVD.

To avoid being overrun, Dany immediately retreats to build her forces and otherwise sit around doing nothing, because while you can take the queen out of the shitty plotline, you can’t take the shitty plotline out of the queen. But Daenerys’ decision also highlights her ruthless side: She lets King’s Landing fall to the white walkers, the entire capital city slaughtered and zombified merely so she can rally her troops.

We’re starting to think she might hold a grudge.

But it works. The Queen gets her army, lines it up along the banks of the Trident — where the Targaryen dynasty fell in the first place after Daenerys’ older brother died in battle — and now she’s either going to restore her family’s name or doom the land to a reign of endless darkness.

Or spend three more seasons sitting around debating which is better.

It’s the final epic struggle, with every character who’s survived to this point putting aside their differences to battle a supernatural threat to their very species. Turns out they don’t need a dragon at their backs, because the true dragon … is teamwork.

The battle takes almost as long as the rest of the war combined, but Daenerys does it. They retake King’s Landing. Fictional humanity is saved!

“It’s Queen’s Landing now. Any objections? No, didn’t think so.”

From there, she drives the white walkers back beyond the Wall, then marches into the far North and topples their frozen stronghold. The Seven Kingdoms are reunited, and their greatest threat is destroyed.

Her traditional warrior garb of a red ball cap, power suit, and half-undershirt struck mortal fear into her enemies.

Oh, and Bran got eaten by zombies at the start of all this, because no one cares about him.

The end!

So there you have it. The dragons are a paper tiger, and Dany will become Queen not through their power, but by giving Westeros what it’s lacked for so long: a ruler willing to unite people against true evil. Jon will give his life fighting the white walkers. Jaime will die trying to redeem himself in the eyes of the people he loves. The Lannisters, in their arrogance, will fail to learn from the mistakes of the Starks. History repeats itself, as the final battle occurs on the same ground where this conflict began years ago. And, most importantly, a decade-old Nintendo game can tell an epic story more efficiently than a big-budget HBO series.

For more 100 percent not wrong insights into ‘Game Of Thrones,’ check out 6 Insane (but Convincing) ‘Game of Thrones’ Fan Theories and 19 Game of Thrones Plot Twists That Would BreakTthe Internet.

Subscribe to our YouTube channel, and check out The Definitive Answer To Game Of Thrones’ Biggest Mystery , and other videos you won’t see on the site!

Also, follow us on Facebook, and let’s get as drunk as a Baratheon or something.

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/