#do they just. carefully sidestep these topics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ericsonclan · 2 years

Text

Not Interested

Summary: Omar shares with Louis that he's aroace.

Word Count: 2126

Read on AO3:

Omar could feel the heat from the grill as he placed down the burger patties. In an instant, the scent of cooking meat wafted in the air as the sizzling grew in volume.

“Ruby, I’m gonna need new fries dropped in five,”

“Got it!” Ruby called out as she worked on cutting some club sandwiches and plating them. She made sure to get the plating just right, having a good amount of fries to sandwich ratio. Once she was happy with the results she dinged the bell. “Table twelve is up!”

“On it!” Sophie grabbed the plates, placing them carefully on her arms before heading out. “To your left, Lou!”

“Oop,” Louis awkwardly sidestepped her then made his way over, ready to help organize orders. “What orders are we working on?”

“The ones for tables seven and ten,” Omar replied calmly and flipped the burgers. Placing slices of cheese on a few patties, he then got to work on the caramelized onions. A soft smile pulled on Omar’s lips as the rhythm of the kitchen was found. This was his happy place. Being able to cook and hearing that people enjoyed their food, there was never anything else quite like it. With Ruby’s help and Louis’ guidance, they were able to put out orders at an alarming rate until the lunch rush was done. After that orders appeared at a slower rate.

“Ruby, mind running the stove and grill for a few?”

“Not at all,” Ruby smiled and handed Omar a water bottle so he could take a minute to catch his breath. Omar accepted the water gratefully and finished half the bottle with ease. As much as he loved his passion for cooking he knew the importance of taking frequent breaks.

Louis suddenly appeared in the order window. “So, now that the orders have slowed down I can finally get to the topic I wanted to talk about today,” He leaned his arms on the window counter, a playful smile on his lips.

“You mean you didn’t want to talk about a dozen orders of cheeseburgers?” Omar sarcastically asked as he used a hand towel set aside for him to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

“Nope, although that was a wild lunch rush.” Louis grinned. “I’m here because I saw this cute girl at a booth who absolutely loved your cooking. She might still be there if you wanna talk with her for a bit,” Louis wiggled his eyebrows teasingly while Omar stared at him.

“Not interested.”

“Come on, man, it’s nice for the chef to talk to the customers.”

“But that’s not why you’re pushing for me to talk this time, is it?” Omar looked over at Louis.

Louis gave a mock surprised face. “Holy- You found out my secret! Yep, I felt like playing matchmaker. Everyone keeps falling in love around here so I thought you deserved a turn.”

Omar was silent for a beat.

“Not interested. Ruby, how are the ribs doing?”

“Just fine. They’ll be ready by the time dinner rolls around,”

“Great, and what about desserts?” Omar had completely moved onto the new topic. He made it clear that he had no interest in Louis’ suggestion

Ruby’s face fell for a second. “Sorry, the line has been so hectic lately that desserts have taken a hit.”

“Okay,” Omar nodded. “Louis, we could use another set of hands back here. Someone with pastry experience would be good.”

“Oh, alright, leave it to me and Vi!” Louis gave a thumbs up then went to check on an issue when he heard Marlon’s voice outside. Louis’ thoughts remained on his conversation with Omar though. Maybe he just wasn't interested in girls. Louis pondered that for a moment then settled on that answer. Yep, that had to be it.

So he changed course over the next few days and kept his eyes out for any guys that Omar would be interested in. Louis took the slower moments in the day when work wasn’t so demanding on him to find someone. He leaned against the wall, scoping out the customers for a few minutes.

“Stop staring, you’re gonna scare them off,” Violet strolled forward.

“Oh, right,” Louis scratched the back of his head with a smile. Violet’s eyes narrowed, studying her best friend for a second.

“You’re acting weird.”

“Nope! Just being my normal weird self,” Louis responded as he acted casual. Violet crossed her arms then followed his gaze over to where it once had been. There, sitting in the booth, was a lanky guy who was busy checking his photos on his camera while he waited for his food.

“Why were you checking him out?”

“I wasn’t, not for me anyway. I was checking him out for Omar. I’m already taken anyways,” Louis glanced over at the guy and noticed that he was finally touching his food. As soon as he bit into the chicken sandwich his eyes began to shimmer. He seemed really fascinated by his meal and stopped for a moment to jot down the restaurant’s name.

“Hey, do you think he’s gay?” Louis asked and waited for a response from Violet but it didn’t come. When he looked over he saw Violet’s expression. “What?”

“How the fuck would I know that?”

“Becuase you’re gay so your gaydar must be insanely good,”

Violet was about to point out that not every gay person had good gaydar but she just sighed deeply in response instead. There was a moment of silence between the pair of best friends.

“So?”

Violet looked up at Louis then rolled her eyes and glanced over at the guy. “Yeah, probably. I have to get to work and so do you so quit slacking off and doing stupid shit,” Violet walked away but Louis stayed where he was until he decided to talk to the guy.

“Hey there, are you enjoying your food?”

Louis’ voice made the guy glance up. Immediately a friendly smile appeared on his lips.

“Yeah, it’s great.”

“My name’s Louis, I’m one of the owners of Ericson’s Diner,” Louis held out his hand and smiled when the guy grasped and shook it.

“Trey.”

Omar was busy with the orders that kept piling up. He and Ruby were quickly in the weeds. All he could do was buckle down and work to the best of his abilities with Ruby. The two struggled in the kitchen, wondering when they would catch a break when Louis strolled in.

“Omar, buddy, guess who found you a guy-”

“Not interested.”

“Come on, you didn't even hear-”

“Louis. I’m not interested.” Omar shot a look over at his friend then sighed when he saw the flicker of emotion in Louis’ eyes. “Meet me out back on my break.”

Louis beamed. “Awesome! Okay, now let’s get you out of the weeds,” He rolled up his sleeves and went to work. It was thanks to everyone working together that they were able to get through that random influx of orders. It had bled into the dinner orders and the rush had lasted until the restaurant was closed. After Omar and Ruby had finished closing down the kitchen, Ruby wandered off to find Brody and get ready for their girls' night while Omar grabbed a water bottle and went out back. A few minutes later Louis showed up with his usual happy expression.

“Hey, sorry about earlier,” Louis scratched his head and gave an apologetic smile.

“It’s fine,” Omar picked at the plastic cover of the water bottle. “I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“It’s okay,” Louis sat down next to Omar. “The orders today were insane so you didn’t get a chance to meet the guy but maybe he’ll show back up soon. He loved the food. His name is Trey and he works as a-”

“Just stop,” Omar cut Louis off. It took him a moment to realize how harsh that sounded. “Sorry. I’m not interested though.”

“You didn’t even meet him though,” Louis pointed out as he leaned back on his arms.

Omar stayed quiet for a minute, debating whether he really wanted to delve into this. Louis could tell that his friend was thinking about something serious so he didn’t speak up again.

“I’m not interested in guys or girls. I’m not interested in anyone that way.” Omar spoke in a softer voice than usual. “I get that you like playing matchmaker but just stop doing it for me.”

“Oh,” Louis stared at the sky for a few seconds. “So when you said you weren’t interested that was for dating in general?”

Omar nodded but didn’t elaborate anymore.

Louis looked over at his friend but Omar wouldn’t make eye contact so Louis’ gaze returned to the night sky again. He had just always assumed that everyone wanted to be with someone. Ever since he was a kid, Louis had always thought that romance and finding a special someone was the best thing ever. Even when he didn’t have the best example of love in front of him growing up, he still believed that. But sitting here with Omar he began to realize that his view might be narrow.

A silence overtook the space between them for a while before Louis rose up to his feet.

“Alright, I got the message loud and clear, I won’t bother you about it anymore,” Louis smiled then gave a quick goodbye. Omar returned it and sat in silence.

That went about as well as he could have hoped for. He figured things might be a little awkward between him and Louis from now on. Anyone that he had told about this always got weird about it. With a long sigh, Omar finished his water then got up to leave.

Just as he had guessed, things were a bit disjointed between him and Louis at first. Omar didn’t really know what to do besides roll with it. The days slowly went by until it reached Friday, a day that all the different couples that worked at Ericson’s Diner seemed to have an unspoken agreement was a date night. Omar usually didn’t care at all but ever since he opened up to Louis, he’d started to feel a bit alienated. Something that he had fully accepted about himself was becoming something he was growing self-conscious of. He hated feeling this way and so he decided to try to push it away and make tonight a fun night for himself too.

As he watched Aasim help Ruby with her coat though and the two shared a kiss, Omar felt those feelings of self-consciousness return. He held onto them until he heard Louis’ happy voice behind him.

“There’s the man I was looking for,”

Omar spun around to see Louis walking forward with Violet and Marlon beside him.

“Got any fun plans tonight?”

Omar knew his answer was no but he wasn’t really in the mood to say that and then get replies about their nights. “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you aren’t busy, wanna come over to my place? Vi, Marlon, and I are having a pizza night. Wanna join?”

Omar’s eyes widened for a second before returning to their normal state. “Aren’t you three usually off with your girlfriends?”

“Yeah, but we make sure to set aside time for friendship nights too. We saw you and figured you might have fun,” Marlon chimed in with a casual smile.

“We’re gonna watch Ratatouille since Mar has never seen it,” Louis noticed the shimmer in Omar’s eyes at the name of that movie.

“Don’t know how Marlon hasn’t seen it. I thought he watched all the rat movies. Figured he connected with his kind.” Violet held a small teasing smile on her lips which only grew when she saw the frown on Marlon’s lips.

“Whatever, I’m not arguing about this again.” Marlon was quiet for a second but caved in. “I don’t even look like one, okay? I thought you were over giving me shit about my looks.”

“Eh, the haircut that you got for Soph only bought you some time,” Violet held onto her smug expression. While the two of them butted heads Louis kept his attention on Omar.

“So, you in?”

Omar thought for a second. The awkwardness between him and Louis seemed to be fully gone. Maybe things wouldn’t end up going like they had in the past after all.

“Okay,” Omar gave a short nod which made Louis’ smile grow.

“Awesome! Okay, you two, you can fight about rats in the car,” Louis led the way with Omar. He struck up a casual conversation with him; his usual energy had clearly returned. Omar couldn’t help but smile at that. Even though it wasn’t something he normally did, he was excited for this friend's night.

#twdg #twdg omar #twdg ruby #twdg louis #twdg violet #twdg marlon #twdg trey #louis omar brotp #louis violet brotp #louis violet marlon brotp #aroace #fanfic #ericson's diner au

6 notes · View notes

the-single-element · 6 months

Text

Good morning.

In today's Good News, we begin the second phase of the Jerusalem Debates. The authorities whom Jesus embarrased with that question about John have decided to retaliate against Jesus with the same tactic: to ask him a question with no good answers.

The result is a famous exchange that has been interpreted... many different ways, over the years. Jesus's answer to the question is often deployed in arguments about the relationship between Church and State, and about how or whether to bring our convictions about God into politics. It's a bitter sort of joke, given that the answer in question was carefully crafted by Jesus to sidestep a thorny political debate of his own time.

But that's not the only thing it was crafted to do.

So let's begin with the context of what this controversial tax even was. Israel, at the time, was an occupied territory under the thumb of the Roman Empire. One of Rome's methods of extracting weath from its subjects was "head tax", where every person was supposed to contribute a denarius (the "laborer's daily wage" mentioned elsewhere in the Good News). Of note: citizens were exempt from this tax; it was paid only by the subjugated, and served, in part, the social purpose of highlighting that subjugation.

Needless to say, this was very unpopular in Jerusalem. But it wasn't just unpopular for being unfair, or for being a microcosm of the Roman occupation in general. Rather, the fact that the money was going to an emperor who styled himself divine... well, for some, there was the issue of idolatry, right? Of offerings to foreign gods. It was a wedge issue for the biggest and most contentious political divide of Second Temple Judah: between the "zealots", who violently resisted Northern Mediterranean assimilation, and the "Hellenists" who were already somewhat culturally Greek. By Jesus's time, there had already been one failed rebellion over it, where the zealot revolutionaries tended to burn down the houses of people willing to play by Caesar's rules.

So Jesus faced three dangers, when he was asked this question. First, there were the pure practical consequences: speaking out against the tax could get you arrested by the Romans, while calling it permissible would invite mob reprisals. Then there was the risk of alienating half his audience; which of us "politically minded" people in America would keep listening to a favorite teacher if we found out he'd recently endorsed someone of the wrong political party?

But the worst risk was that Jesus's already chronic problem with being misunderstood would only intensify if people could slot him neatly into a political bucket. Everything else he'd try to say, from then on, would be heard as if it was more polemic on the Roman Topic, even though what he'd come to Earth to teach people was about something very different.

Thankfully, Jesus is used to this particular type of trick question. He's been asked one before - about the woman caught cheating on her husband, where his critics tried to get him to choose between either openly going against Moses, or else advocating for religious capital punishment (which, by that time, Temple authorities usually tried to avoid imposing in practice, and anyway would be illegal under Roman law).

In cases like these, Jesus's favorite technique seems to be to thread the needle by deriving his answer, not from Torah, but from the behavior of the very people who asked the trick question. "Let the one without sin throw the first stone" seems on its face to go along with the law being quoted, but in practice prevents the punishment from being carried out - which ends up in a very similar place to what Jewish folks were doing anyway. Simultaneously, he manages to make the event yet another warning against knee-jerk condemnation.

This same technique is what Jesus deploys in today's Good News. He turns the question back on the ones who asked it: "if you have an objection to paying taxes to Caesar, where's your objection to using his coins, with his head stamped where images of the Roman gods used to be? If paying tribute to Rome is idolatry, wouldn't that mean that having a graven image in your house, and using it every day, is even more idolatrous?"

Once again, Jesus has threaded the needle. First, he avoids the danger, by giving an answer that both the Herodians and the Zealots would accept; to one used to Northern Mediterranean culture, he's calling the whole matter ridiculous (with the famous "render Caesar's to Caesar, and God's to God" conclusion maybe even inventing the "separation of Church and State", if you squint). To the Zealots? This is calling and raising them - presenting a provocative view, perhaps, but one very in line with their desire to un-Romanize the Holy Land (and to them, his concluding statement might have sounded more like "throw away what is Caesar's so that you can focus on God"). Either way, it strengthens him rhetorically, and weakens his debate partners by making them look inconsistent, lukewarm instead of hot or cold (as we once heard him put it via John of Patmos).

But then - just as in the case of the adulterous woman - Jesus takes this answer one step further, and swings it back to one of his central teachings. Recall how suspicious Jesus has always been of wealth, and the way it tends to bend our moral thinking. Consider that, whoever was listening to his answer, the undercurrent was to belittle the coin itself. A Hellenist might hear him call Caesar's coin unnecessary to the work of God, a separate magisterium. A Zealot might hear him call the coin actively dangerous. Either one, then, would be more primed to hear what he actually wants them to learn: that to do God's work you must sometimes throw earthly riches away. It's only a little later, in Mark and Luke's Good News, that we'd have the chance to see a poor widow using a much smaller coin to pay a much steeper tax, this time to God rather than to Rome. Perhaps even high enough to touch the Kingdom with it.

That's the potential that Jesus is trying to get us to aspire to. If Caesar is irrelevant to the Kingdom, what is relevant?

Well, Jesus has hidden one more clever metaphor in his exhortation here. If you can tell that the Roman coin is Caesar's because Caesar's image is on it, then what bears God's image? Just as the image of Caesar stamped on a denarius coin makes it valuable to those who care about Caesar, our fellow human beings - made in the image of God - should be valued to those of us who want to go about doing God's will. And just like Caesar's coin returns to Caesar, our own "metanoia", our own reorientation towards God, is the journey we're called to make.

In other words... "return to God", and "care for each other". The same message Jesus has been trying to get us to understand all year.

We're reaching the end of Jesus's message, this late in the year. This preaching he did in Jerusalem was some of his last work: an attempt to recapitulate the important points, and put a bow on things, before he went to the Cross to teach his final lesson. In doing so, he's once again showing us how to follow him, whether we're new to the idea (like Cyrus, who did God's will despite never being a Jew) or doing it on purpose after much practice (like the Thessalonians who Paul thanks so profusely in his letter).

So, if Jesus took this moment to focus on what really matters, let's do that, too: refocus ourselves on the Kingdom of God, and in doing so, enter safe into his treasury.

0 notes

kuralione · 2 years

Text

VtK Snippet

So this bit of writing was inspired and concocted from a conversation/collaborative idea brewey in #idea-sharing on the VTK discord. Vonn proposed the heartbreaking idea of the whole villain reveal going badly and being afraid of Cassian. And that she witnessed him loose control and go on a mini rampage.

People ran with it (myself, Edgar Allen Hoe, Sleep Deprived Viola, and Jormus). I wrote this based on that, and they deserve credit for some of this writing as my Google doc for writing this was a mess of copy pasted and modified copies of what they wrote.

————

Every evening like clockwork, Cassian called her at six—the same time Yuri had called him when she was in America. The phone calls had started a week after the Lampas investigation concluded and had continued uninterrupted in the two months since. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to pick up the phone.

Still, Cassian left voicemails.

And Yuri didn’t delete them.

The villain’s messages were reminiscent of their old check-ins. Mostly, Cassian filled her in about his day. He usually spent several hours training in his personal gym—a perk of being the Vilzone boss—though on some days he’d spar with other Gadam villains. He’d thrown Black Hand out a window last week when the other villain had started a bar fight. Occasionally, he was dragged into leadership meetings by Driver, but the former-boss typically handled Vilzone management. Yuri often knew about all the fights and incidents the Gadam Vilzone was involved in before they were reported in the news.

Turning her phone over to Lampas was the right thing to do, Yuri knew. Cassian was the Gadam Vilzone boss and with how free he was with his words, these voicemails were probably an intelligence gold mine. Despite her better judgement and contrary to the promises she had made to the investigators if the villain Cassian was to contact her, Yuri couldn’t bring herself to go to Lampas. Her phone would be taken and her number would be changed to one her brother hadn’t known by heart. Or Cassian could simply stop calling entirely.

Gangu might be gone, but Yuri wasn’t ready to lose the only thing she had left of her brother.

So these voicemails—these calls—were Yuri’s little secret.

Yuri knows she should let Gangu go. Her little brother was lost the moment he awakened as a villain. Although his heart may still beat, the person he was was dead and gone. Cassian was just another villain—another monster who’s only relevance to her life should be the shadow his presence cast over Gadam as an apocalyptic class threat.

Yet, Yuri couldn’t help but see some of her brother in this monster.

She didn’t want to.

Everything would be so much easier and less complicated if Yuri only saw a monster when Cassian was shown on the news. Because she did, she remembered the day the sky was eaten by shadows, buildings burned with black fire, and Gadam shook as the villain boss’s violent power caused localized earthquakes. Cassian, with his creepy creepy mismatched glowing eyes and signature claws which were so often wreathed in shadows in the pictures, was utterly bone chillingly terrifying. Yuri had seen footage of his rampage. A living nightmare—the kind of villain that awakened once in a generation and Gadam had the misfortune to be cursed with.

Cassian was a monster of apocalyptic proportions.

The villain never asked her to contact him or pick up or respond. He carefully sidestepped the topic. Cassian pointly didn’t talk about a lot of things actually. There was never mention of the rampage, the lies, or his existence as a villain in any meaningful detail. Avoidance was always Gangu’s preferred strategy.

Cassian also called her every day to assure he was eating healthy and so not to worry about him. He complained about Driver and Crow calling him ‘dark duckling,’ and told her about his most recent culinary forays. The most recent of which had ended in disaster and a minor house fire. Apparently Black Hand had bet Cassian couldn’t cook using his fire powers and he’d decided to take the other villain up on the bet.

The person on the other end of the line was painfully alien and familiar. Gangu had awakened before she’d gone to America. The one who had seen her off at the airport and called her everyday had been Cassian. It was just that now Yuri knew and the villain had stopped pretending. Well, Yuri still wasn’t sure how much of this was an act and how much was genuine.

The uncertainty was eating her alive.

It was nearly six and Yuri sat alone on the living room couch, waiting. A minute passed and then another. Then…

Her phone rings.

Once.

Twice.

The phone didn’t ring a third time. Yuri didn’t know what possessed her, but she snatched up her phone and picked up. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t do anything to acknowledge the reality that she’s taken the villain’s call. Yuri just held the phone close and listened.

Cassian recovered quickly from any surprise at not being relegated to voicemail, an inhale and barely noticeable delay the only sign of the effect surprise had on the villain. If Yuri could hear relief in Cassian’s voice or excitement in his tone, she pretended not to notice. Instead she listened in silence as Cassian rambled on. He talked and talked about everything and anything, new stories and repeats of tales he’d told in previous calls.

Where the longest voicemail Cassian had left her was fifteen minutes, their one sided conversation went on for over an hour until the villain ran out of words to say. The silence that stretches between them is deafening—filled with countless unspoken words against the unaddressed backdrop of the horror show their lives had become.

“Good night, G—Cassian,” Yuri said—her first words to him in over three months, since everything fell to ruin—and with a click hung up the phone. Then, the tears fell as Yuri resisted the urge to hurl her phone.

(What a fitting choice of name for this villainous version of her brother: Cassian—excessive force, flames, and power. The opposite of the person Gangu used to be.)

She loved him.

Monster as he was, Yuri still couldn’t help but love him—whatever lies her head told her, her heart screamed that he was still her little brother.

#vtk #villain to kill #villain to kill webtoon #yuri gwon (villain to kill)#cassian lee (villain to kill)#villain to kill fanfic #vtk snippet

22 notes · View notes

anasticep · 3 years

Text

Why Julie and the Phantoms is a masterpiece of a show. Part 2. Heroes and Villains or Let that foil shine

NOTE: Thanks again for your kind response to Part 1. I never expected that. It being my first tumblr post and a first meta in quite a long time I was blown away. I read all the tags, some were really hilarious. About having more than one brain cell xDDD I laughed so hard. It means a lot.

NOTE2: Please remember that the gifs are made by me, so don't crop, edit or give as yours.

Part 1.

Before diving into meta, I have to mention that the Villain of the story is actually one of the best in the decade. He’s cool, evil from the start, we understand his motives and we certainly are not supposed to love and make excuses for him. The writers made sure of that. So back to the main topic.

A foil is a character who contrasts with another character; typically, a character who contrasts with the protagonist, in order to better highlight or differentiate certain qualities of the protagonist

Foils in literature are not necessarily antagonists. A friend can be a foil or sometimes even a thing, a song. Whatever can make a good and real contrast to the protagonist. But it’s not very simple to use this author’s device and not fall down a deep hole. Because you have to make sure you did just the right amount of work to make it understandable for a reader, the things you want to contrast are definitely there and still you don't waste a character. On TV it can be even harder given limited air time. And, well, I don’t come across this device being used in full very often nowadays. It’s usually good and evil fighting for the plot. That’s why I personally appreciate JaTP so much.

Caleb is clearly a foil to Luke. As much as I’d love to say that Julie also has one, that’s not entirely true, at least not this season. Carrie is not her foil though it may seem so, and I really think that’s cool as Julie’s journey is being presented through her own demons and I'm going to cover that next. That being said, of course Caleb doubles as an antagonist plotwise, but I personally consider him being written more as a contract to Luke so we could see and appreciate his character and journey better.

1. Origins

Caleb and Luke have extremely similar backgrounds. They are both natural performers. They know how to deliver, because c’mon, “Now or Never” is something and so is “The other side of Hollywood”. Stage is their natural habitat, their element, power. Although they channel this power from completely different places.

Let’s start with our little ball of energy. It’s emphasized TWICE that he doesn’t care about the money aka the physical side of art.

All Luke wants is to make music. Connect with people. He is so happy just to be heard despite him loving to perform. Making music is what makes him feel alive and basically that’s enough. I think if there was no “hologram” magic at all, Luke would have still been extremely happy to make music with and for Julie. Because that’s the way he is.

But Caleb doesn’t know that. He knows, and I’m standing by that, right away that Luke is the one to aim at. Because we always feel the similarity in people. If Luke said yes, Reggie and Alex would have followed. So Caleb recognizes the passion and shoots at them what he thinks is appealing. And, oh boy, he delivers.

“The Other Side of Hollywood” is a perfect song to emphasize Luke and Caleb being foils for each other. Follow me here:

But these lines come from very different places. For Caleb the only thing that matters is himself. He owns the show, he IS the show. It’s about being famous, drowning in applause, admiration. Look at how he performs. Confident, yes, but still very much in control. He must keep his perfect face. No flaws, no real emotions, no real connection (Did you miss ME? I did too // This band is back). Whereas Luke is simply living the best time of his life each time he performs. Is it just jamming? Bring it on. Doing fun riffs? He’s all for it. He doesn’t care how he looks (though who could deny gorgeous sweaty Luke), he owns the show just because he is a natural.

So back to the business. Caleb immediately puts the boys in his own shoes:

On the other side we live like kings // Your soulprint on the walk of fame on the boulevard of your wildest dreams // I got your glamour, got your gold, got all you’ll ever need

And, I mean, he is not that wrong. You can see the appeal on the boys’ faces. They are young, passionate, handsome, talented musicians. Of course they wouldn’t deny fame. Of course they would want all that to some extent. And Caleb is very sure he pulled the right strings.

Watch me make a move, I’m your number one choice

Also I have to mention, as we are talking about TOSOH (IKEA name again) and it being a foil for Luke, thy lyrics still don’t forget about what is important for Reggie and Alex (we’ll talk about that just a bit later):

Welcome to the brotherhood -> Reggie

Where you won’t be misunderstood -> Alex

Then again, lots of foreshadowing in the song, if you listen carefully the lyrics are stressing the true colors of the offer:

A tomb with a view

Man, what a metaphor. I would have run out of there the minute I heard this line. But our boys share one brain cell (I can’t get over how funny this is) and it’s currently taken by Julie, so I don’t blame them.

Disappointment is huge. Caleb read it all wrong. So we are moving to the next point in our Heroes and Villains essay.

2. Recruitment

It’s very cool that Caleb offers the boys to join his band right after Luke offers Julie to join Sunset Curve. They both are going out of their ways to get that (although have different budgets apparently. But look, they live in a garage). Luke made a hit with a bunch of Julie’s not very well structured lines (I love Flying Solo with all my heart as a song, but as a poem it just looks weird to me) to impress her, and we all saw the show Caleb had thrown to impress the boys. Plus food. And fancy dancing. But here is where contrast comes again.

Caleb offers to join the band, yes, but only as backup singers. It’s his show, remember? It’s only about him. He doesn’t care if they are even good. He wants their magic under control.

Share the spotlight with ME / How do you like MY new band?!

Luke offering Julie a spot in the band is a completely different story. He saw what she is capable of. He instantly knows she must be the key to a new sound, a new level. And he, a natural performer, frontman, lead guitarist, steps back and gives the spotlight to Julie. To think about it, he could have just got her magic under control by giving her simple lines, incorporating piano in the songs and that’s all. They would be visible, he would still be a center of attention, and Julie herself wouldn't mind that much. But that’s not who Luke is. Yes, there is a funny scene of “Hey, I’m your lead singer” and “you don’t have to be mean”, but it’s just messing around. Because right after that he finishes Flying Solo, writes several other songs with Julie, seeks her approval of Sunset Curve songs and basically follows her around like an adorable excited puppy.

Moving on and back to the rejection. Again the writers are mirroring them. Julie quits the band & the boys decline the offer. What does Luke do? Well, he tries the way he knows: books a gig, makes Reggie and Alex sing in perfect harmonies and does his puppy eyes thing. And it doesn’t work. And Luke goes to reflect and then probably try to come up with a plan. But something tells me he would not have haunted Julie until she joined them.

What does Caleb do after the initial rejection? Puts a cursed stamp that leaves them no choice but to join HGC. You don’t need to say more.

But in fact the more I think about it, the more I suspect Caleb also not possessing enough mental capacity for a human being. Like, if it wasn’t for Willie, how would they even know? Has Caleb planned to simply show up one day and casually explain? Look, foils in everything.

“You’re in a tough spot… So, you wanna join the band?” | “Looked like it hurt… you know where to find me”

But we sidestepped a bit.

3. Pulling the strings

After the song Caleb comes out to consolidate his success. What he does is clever and, btw, that’s the only time he becomes Julie’s foil. They are stating basically the same thing.

Again, Julie is concerned about the band and the boys, while Caleb is only concerned about having them under control. But they both are pulling basically the right strings.

What is interesting, Caleb actually impressed the wrong person (and that person is our sweet Reggie). Luke follows the string Julie pulled. Although the offer is tempting, he insists twice that they are in a band already directly to Caleb and then in Eats&Beats he says "It's like Julie said, we have a new band, a new sound». No matter what Caleb promised, Luke is not affected at all although Caleb’s offer is a very-very safe choice.

Speaking about using friends as foils, Alex and Reggie also serve as contrast characters for Luke at some points. Luke’s indifference to money is first stressed through Alex who is clearly the chief accountant for the band. His lines about not getting tips, living in a garage and «it’s a little bit about the money» are waved aside by Luke. Reggie is clearly the most affected by the whole Bobbie thing. His lines «I don’t care what Julie said, I’m glad we scared Bobbie», «So we’re gonna forget about getting back at Trevor?» are getting a clear contrast by Luke’s «It’s what Julie said, we have a new band, a new sound» and «He has to live with that guilt».

While editing the article I realised a very cool thing I haven't noticed before. How badly Luke wants to go on tour. And again that's another thing Caleb offers as if reading his mind. That's actually brilliant, to think about it.

Caleb is a VERY good reader. He tests the waters with a speech about disappearing from stage and going around the world and all dreams coming true. Still he doesn’t know the boys and especially Luke, so his phrase “no real connection” doesn’t register that much.

But he learns. Remember the lines I’ve marked before?

Reggie is afraid they will not be together after they cross over. He is in desperate need of a family. So wouldn’t it be nice to spend the rest of your afterlife with your brothers? (Reggie's main insecurity is loneliness, feel of a broken family. That's why he is the most concerned about crossing over. Will his family stay intact?)

Alex is insecure, and not being understood by the people closest to him will always hit hard. So welcome to a place where you won’t be misunderstood. And actually we know there is a guy you like and find comfort in. (Alex's insecurity is growing up in times when he could not truly be himself even with his family and for sure not believing he would ever be able to find someone meant just for him)

That mirrors the whole Luke’s beach speech perfectly. Only comparing them we can truly appreciate why Luke is the leader. He shuts down his own demons to make Alex and Reggie remember that they are not alone (“and I believe in you”. sorry. Olicity fan).

Caleb makes them suffer to get what he wants. But this time he is careful with the words aimed at Luke. Yes, he repeats his words about vanishing and applauses BUT he makes sure that his words about CONNECTION are the key words for Luke. Intense look, calming voice, touching - these are all elements of hypnosis. And Luke is in a daze. (Continuing the parents' thing, for Luke the main insecurity is not managing to connect with his mom. Maybe that's such a big thing for him: through all these people he wanted to find that connection with her)

4. The Hero’s journey

That’s the best part actually but I won’t be saying anything new or that you don’t know. Luke is made of lyrics and music. That’s his soul, heart, that’s the feeling running through his veins. He doesn’t need anything other than that in his life. Playing for eternity is “a gift no musician would ever turn down”. But he actually does turn it down. As well as his dream to go see the world with his band (is there covid in jatp universe?). He is the one who resists the hardest to the pull. Luke, who always has a guitar in his hands, doesn't want to play. Because it’s not only about the music now. He has this amazing girl in his afterlife who was willing to accept them for who they were, helped Luke battle his own demons, eased his pain and made him open up. And it doesn’t make sense any longer without her anymore. “And you’re a part of me now till eternity”.

Caleb, being Luke’s foil, completely misses the whole point of connection. It’s not in his nature. His house band are just recruits (Just so happens you’re in luck we’ve got a vacancy). For Luke his band is his family (We are the only family we ever gonna need). The Connection theme is one of the main in the show. And it’s so cool to show it focused through Luke whose best way of interaction is a touch. But not being able to touch Julie Luke has to find other ways, although it’s not that simple for him. And Julie backs that up: We connect in so many other ways. They literally touched each other's souls. Without knowing she put a stamp of her own on Luke, Alex and Reggie. They’ve never felt loved enough, appreciated enough, supported enough. They’ve only had each other. And Julie’s stamp is love. And for Luke (as well as Reggie and Alex) from now on this girl is worth dying for all over again.

_______

So yeah. I hope you enjoyed it, as I for sure enjoyed writing. There is gonna be a part 3 about Julie and a few honorable mentions of parallels of the Pilot and the Finale (I hope at least to do all that). I’ve also figured very very cool connections in the songs and I can’t wait to share.

Also as I was heavily speaking about The Other side of Hollywood, @catty-words has a wonderful meta on rain metaphors here (sorry for tagging, if you don't want to be tagged), check it out if you somehow missed it. It's super clever.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #alex mercer #jatp meta #jatp analysis #my gifs #my edits #don't crop #please be nice #caleb covington #ana's meta #am i smart? i am #having more brain cells then sunset curve

91 notes · View notes

captainjimothycarter · 3 years

Note

Trope meme for Steggy 48. Fake dating and 60. Poorly timed confession

This is...whatever my brain came up with.

“Are you alone?”

Steve looked up from where he was sketching in the notebook, running a hand through his hair. He knew her - the bright-eyed woman above him. She looked stunning with her hair perfectly pinned to mimic Victorian Curls and bright red lips. Her hazel eyes looked to be searching his, almost frantic and nervous. He could see how she struggled not to look behind her.

He did for her, seeing a bunch of frat boys from their classes clambering around the front entrance to the diner. A nasty feeling in his gut told him they were also around back.

She spoke without moving her lips too much, holding onto her jacket like she might take a seat and Steve could easily put the two and two together. They thought she was meeting him here and on the off chance she wasn’t, they were going to pounce.

They were waiting for her to exit and while Peggy was amazing in the classroom with her snappy comebacks and sass and putting the sexist pigs in their place, there was no way she could fight off the five, if not more, boys waiting for her.

And he knew she could throw a punch after watching her sock Hodge, the leader of this group, in the face after a nasty comment and accidentally caught an elbow in his gut when he was behind her in the library.

She was still waiting for an answer, her face carefully poised.

“I-no, I mean…” He flinched at his own words and Peggy gave a small laugh. “I mean, yes I am. I’m here alone. Here.”

He helped her sit down, feeling how shaken she was under his fingertips and waving to the waitress. Angie instantly came by, putting down a few drinks and a basket of fries and winking at Steve as she left.

“I-didn’t, I wouldn’t ever order for you, I mean…” Peggy’s brow rose and Steve swallowed slightly. “I just...she just did that.”

Peggy laughed again, sounding more relieved this time as she picked up a fry and bit into it. “Angie is just like that. Always insisting she’s miss matchmaker. You’re Steve, right? From my history and French class?”

“Yeah, and just about any other time I’m in the library. Are you alright? What the hell are those guys doing outside?”

They were still waiting, passing a bottle back and forth, still glaring at the window. He got an icky, nasty feeling as he looked out at them.

“Being douchebags,” she huffed. “Hodge, it seems doesn’t like that I scored higher than him in our last test in History nor does he like it that I socked him in the face after that nasty comment about my brother. I’m surprised I didn’t get expelled for that one.”

She seemed to eye the way Steve’s ears turned a shade of pink but didn’t say anything as he picked up a fry and twirled it around his fingers.

“I’ve been hearing them talk all week about it. He’s in my biology class too, unfortunately. Dumb as a sack of rocks, that one. He has some pretty transphobic views too.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Unsurprisingly. I wonder how the hell he even got into the university in the first place.”

“Oh, his dad donates a hell of a lot to the college and bribed the board members.” Realizing how sure of himself he sounded, Steve cleared his throat. “Or so I’ve heard. So, Hodge is pissed about that so he decided to what? Track you down?”

“So to speak, yes. He wanted to show me a lesson. In what a sexist asshole he is, then that’s already done. I ran to the first public place I saw and saw you sitting here, I hope that’s okay. I’m not ruining anything am I?”

She sounded generally concerned and Steve had to force himself to put down his drink to meet her eyes. Under his yellow light, he could make out the hints of gold reflecting in them. “No, no. I was just wasting time. I didn’t feel like being by myself in the dorm while Sam and Bucky are on their date. Plus, Angie is good company. Sometimes.”

“I heard that!”

Steve and Peggy both laughed at the shout from the kitchen.

It was close to two in the morning by the time the pair had decided to leave. Steve hadn’t even noticed how their hands were joined together, having reached for the same salt shaker. They’d never pulled them apart.

They had talked about everything from classes, to how Professor Coulson was heard to be the worst and best teacher, their families, even if Steve was reluctant on his.

And the guys still waited, growing increasingly impatient and nasty in their looks.

It didn’t surprise Steve when the door kicked open and a very drunk Hodge stood there. Peggy stood up instantly, half shoving Steve behind her.

“Carte-r-r-r-” He stumbled a few steps and stood face-to-face with her and Steve had to give Peggy props, she didn’t even flinch as he burped. “I got a b-bone to pick with you!”

The second he went to touch her, Steve jumped to his feet and shoved Hodge back, sending him tumbling back. Somehow the broad bastard kept his balance.

“You lil’ scrimp!” The man was yelling now, charging after Steve until he sidestepped the idiot and it sent him hitting the table head-first.

Steve snorted.

“What? You two datin’ now?” He glared between Peggy and Steve like they were nothing but dog shit under his boot. “Always knew you liked wimpy guys, that why you never went out with me, Carter?”

Peggy huffed. “I never went out with you, Hodge because you’re an arrogant, sexist pig who can’t count down from ten without being confused. Or answer a basic question. How you tie your shoes together, I’m unsure. And for your information yes we are.”

She pulled Steve in by his shoulders, laying a swift kiss on his temple.

“You ain’t gonna get high grades that way, Carter! Suckin’ the dick of the dean of the college’s kid!”

“You’re the dean’s kid?” Peggy had spun around to look at Steve, ignoring Hodge when he stumbled back to them.

Steve could feel his face heating up and nod. “Yeah, uh, Chester Phillips is my step-dad and he hates this son of a bitch here.”

“Only bitch I see is you!” Hodge went to snarl at Steve, any advancements he made were blocked off by Peggy’s fist to his throat. It dropped him down fast.

The guy was wheezing and Steve couldn’t even feel bad, even as flashing blue lights indicated Angie must’ve called the police. “Next time,” Angie told them as she handed Peggy a stun gun. “Use this on the bastard. He runs his mouth too much.”

Steve was exhausted. It was near four in the morning by the time they’d got back on campus. Hodge had been promptly for a combination of things, including assault and underage drinking, not to mention most of his crew taken with him.

They’d stayed late to help clean up the mess and give their statements, but still, Peggy hadn’t said a word about Dean Phillips being his step-dad. Even as they were walking up to her dorm.

“So,” Steve sighed as they stopped outside of her room. “I guess you don’t want to see me anymore?”

Even with the bags under her eyes, she looked beautiful, if not confused. “And why wouldn’t I, Steve? Because your step-dad is the dean of the college? Or because I told Hodge we were dating?”

His shoulders shrugged. “Both, I guess. I just…” He made a noise in the back of his throat.

“What you did tonight, standing up for me, to an idiot like Hodge was very brave and I thank you.” She smiled as she bends down to barely brush her lips over his. “As for who your step-dad is… I don’t care. I know you got in on your marks, on your smarts, as did I. Even if we were to date, it would be because I like you, not for Phillips.”

The kiss had all but frazzled his brain, catching odd ends of her sentence. “Wait - like me…? You-you, like me?”

Peggy couldn’t help the small laugh. “I have since our first group assignment together.”

Right. That was…news to him, but it made sense with the knowledge that Peggy always seemed ready to ask him something before changing the topic.

“I...I uh...would you want to...go out sometime then? A proper date.”

“Only after this gal has had some sleep. Thank you for everything, Steve. Shall we say...noon tomorrow?”

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steggy Prompt #CJC's Story #babylawyeroq

21 notes · View notes

draw-you-coward · 3 years

Text

or are we demtists

“Is this human?” Roza asks.

The wide-eyed server, about to leave their table and most likely gossip to her colleagues in the kitchen about the talking plants using the wrong fork, gives him a look that says she is more keen to misunderstand him and risk awkwardness than to take the question at face value.

“It is just about the right consistency,” Roza continues, crushing her diplomatic dreams.

“It is beef liver, I believe.” Trahearne saves her from answering with a courteous smile. “Thank you very much.”

She hurries away, shooting Roza a glance Trahearne has seen many, many times before. At least it isn’t directed at him today.

“There are sylvari who harvest and sell their own fruit. I do not see why cannibalism is so different,” Roza complains as Trahearne unfolds his napkin for him. “Is that not how breast milk works?”

Pale Mother. Trahearne spreads the cloth over his lap. “I thought you didn’t like milk?”

Roza watches the smooth movement of his hands. “I do not. It tastes too alive.”

“There you are. Perhaps people are put ill at ease by the closeness to sentient life.”

Roza makes a noncommittal noise, bookmarking the topic. He is studying Trahearne carefully, expectantly, not yet having learned what to do in upper class establishments such as this. They are here for public relations, or at least that is what Trahearne has been telling himself, since how could he pass up an opportunity to go someplace he would not have been able to afford with a dozen scientific expedition grants? And of course his commander has to come along. For public relations.

Roza picks up his knife and fork when he does, copying and no doubt memorizing how he is eating. Just barely two years of age and he has learned so much and become so mature. He only sticks his nose in where it doesn’t belong if he can be subtle about it, and he knows how to be charming when arrogance will not get him his way. Trahearne at two years old was a socially inept mess.

“Have you thought about the treatise Malomedies suggested you write?” He speaks up after Roza tastes his wine, making a face of disgust. “The world is ever an audience for new theories exploring the threads of necromancy, especially from a sylvari.”

“Not necessarily a positive audience. At most, anything I write will be treated with polite condescension, and at worse, disdain. I think I shall wait until I have empirical work to show for my theories before I publish anything. I have only one chance to make a first impression—it had better not be an embarrassing one.”

Trahearne certainly hopes people have forgotten his embarrassing first impressions. “Well said,” he replies, and Roza smiles at him.

“I have been thinking,” he announces, cutting into his meat as if his knife were a scalpel, “That come the unfortunate event of your death, I would not consume the parts of you unfit for necromantic rituals. I respect you far too much for that.”

Trahearne bites back a smile. “I am honoured.”

“Very good. Laranthir was offended.”

He can’t imagine why. “Did you say you’d eat him?”

Roza huffs. “Well, yes. There isn’t much of him that would be of use, since he is not magical enough. You on the other hand… you are a gold mine.”

“And you are the poor unfortunate chipping away at me until you find something valuable?” Trahearne is amused.

Roza’s voice quietens. “All of you is valuable.”

Well.

Trahearne watches as he drinks deeply of the wine he had scorned, inexplicably struck soft. And here they sidestep, they dance shyly away, but into a blind waltz of their own. And when they will meet…?

Who knows. Roza should certainly not be drinking wine like water. Trahearne touches his wrist lightly, and he flushes and looks away, and downs the entire glass.

One step together. A small one.

~*~

(link to Another date)

#trahearne #roza #gw2 #drabble #writing #cannibalism mention #alcohol #food mention #hhhh 👁👄👁

17 notes · View notes

harcourtholmesii · 3 years

Text

A Strange Meeting

Fandoms: Dead by Daylight

Pairings: None

Warnings: - Reference to Violence - Referenced Gore - Referenced Death and Torture - Implied, Stated and Referenced Prejudice - Pretty Poorly Written

Words: 2019

I wrote this sometime ago, but I felt like posting some of my older works to Tumblr to get them out there. In this one, to clarify, I have this little headcanon that the Entity would want to get the most it can from its survivors and killers before tossing them into the void. So, the Entity forces some killers to be survivors and some survivors to be killers, so it might leech as much emotion, hope and fear out of them all.

Enjoy!

She had found a quiet place. It was hidden deep into the woods, far from the campfire’s warm glow, and out of sight of those judging looks. She could hear, carried along by the chilling wind, the faint cries of Dwight and Kate’s hollers as they searched for where she had hidden herself away. With her back pressed firmly to the chipping bark of the ulmus- elm behind her, she brought her knees up to her chin, muting her sobs. The cold wind swept through her, and beneath her long sleeves she could feel her hairs rising in horripilation.

Goose-bumps. It was what everyone else called it. But why not use the scientific term? She didn’t understand. According to David, and everyone else probably, there was a lot she didn’t understand. Her father called it a ‘brilliant mind’, an ‘inquisitive mind’, but her mother referred to it in much the same way as everyone else. ‘Special’. ‘Unique’. ‘Unusual’.

When the world around them began to collapse, everyone else ran to the door. When she was alone in the collapse, she just had to collect that one insect. Where one should run for a teammate, she had to collect the sap and take notes. She couldn’t help herself. That was what she knew; botany and entomology were her video games and childhood toys. She didn’t understand these trials. Never had she wished to be swept into a life or death game, and whilst other survivors lived for the chase, she despised having to run around. Her legs ached so much at the end of a trial, she would rarely wait to reach the campfire before collapsing to her knees. Even when those black, arachnid-like appendages tore her away from the safety of the fire, she could rarely find the strength to continue these trials any longer.

Claudette’s head snapped up, hearing heavy footsteps approaching. It sounded much like David or Bill’s heavy boots; the last people she wanted to talk to. As she brought a hand up to the tree behind her, gaining some purchase on it so she might stand quickly and run, she was interrupted by the face of a man she had not met out in these woods. She had never run into another lost soul on her own before. She had always been by Dwight or the others, but now, she was caught out and unsure how to react.

He was enormous. Like an ursus arctos horribilis- Like a grizzly bear in size, he was packed with muscle with wide grey eyes. He turned a dark gaze down to onto her; those grey eyes filled with mild curiosity. They carried a familiar weight to them, like the gazes she had seen many times when their group met survivors who had been there just as long as themselves (or perhaps longer). They were weary, exhausted and yet they looked at her with aroused suspicion. She noted the faintest dark stains on his clothes; there was blood, yes, like there always was, but a black powder mixed with mud and dirt caked the white of his collared shirt. He wore dark overalls with one strap snapped on the right side and, much like everyone else, his clothes were in such a disarray. How could a man like this be one of them? It was much like when she met David; just how could a man of his size, strength and temperament be a survivor?

A crunch of leaves and twigs alerted her, Claudette’s eyes travelling up to the man’s face as he ducked down beneath a branch and with his back pressed to the tree, slid down to sit on her left side. He dropped heavily into the mix of dirt and roots, but kept quiet. She didn’t like this. She wanted to speak up and tell him to go away. This was her spot. But, instead all she felt was the urge to stand and return to the campfire.

“Please stay.” Claudette hadn’t realised she had already started making a move to stand. His voice shocked her. It was a growl. Not like a threatening growl, but his voice was deep and broken that when his plica vocalis- vocal cords produced his words, it reminded her much like the deep bellows of a bear. She swallowed around a lump in her throat, feeling how her body tightened in fear. Her joints were strained, prepared for her to jump up and run like her body had never done so before. Even when she was in a trial, she had never felt so terrified. Nervously, she let herself slump back into her place at the base of the elm’s trunk. She was shaking.

“W-Who…” She swallowed again, trying to gain the nerve to speak. “Who are you?”

He turned his head to look at her; a slow, bored motion, with his grey eyes meeting hers. Even like this, he was still at least a foot taller. He was just… so… big…

“Someone like you.”

“H-How do you kno-?”

“I guessed.” He interrupted her, turning his head away, his right hand brushing lightly at the dirt between them. She bit her lip to keep herself from yelling at him at how he was getting her jean pants dirty. What did it matter? They were dirtied from mud, blood and torn to shreds at the calf and knees. He glanced back up at her, one large finger beginning to scratch a pattern into the dirt. “Lost.”

“W-What?”

“You seem lost.” His eyes turned back to the dirt, glowering at a mistake he brushed away with his knuckles. His attention returned to dividing his gaze between her face and his picture.

“W-Well, I’m not. I know where I can go and-”

“It is not what I meant.” He said, stopping his digits from digging into the dirt. He turned his body, angling it towards her, a foot between them. He was uncomfortably close for her liking, but he didn’t push further. “Your mind seems elsewhere.”

“And how do you know that?” She pulled her lips tight into a frown. She didn’t appreciate how he was analysing her. It was like how her mother tried to send her to a therapist, except instead of a sense of duty to her mother, she was kept there by her fear rooting her feet to the ground.

“I know.” He hummed, returning to a relaxed position around the tree. “No one runs from the fire except for a few reasons. Since you are not screaming…” He trailed off, letting Claudette fill in the rest.

“I… I just can’t deal with this any longer.” Well, he was certainly doing better than her therapist and actually getting her to spill something personal. Whether out of fear or not, it didn’t really matter. “I’m constantly afraid. I can’t keep up with this. I just… I just want to go home.” The world around her grew blurry, her eyes beginning to sting as tears welled up and then rolled tracks down her hot cheeks.

He didn’t speak. He had stopped drawing in the dirt, and kept his eyes trained on her and how she rose her hands up in fists to wipe away the tears. “I just want to go home to my parents. To my microscope and studies. I want to go back to college. If anything, people whispering behind my back is nothing compared to a hook going through it.” She bawled, bringing her body into a curled position.

“What is a m-micro-… ma-icro-scopp?” Her wide eyes turned to look up at him, surprised to find him tilting his head like a giant dog. He was curious, and the thought that this man didn’t know what a microscope was… It was a welcome distraction.

“A-…” She wiped the tears from her eyes, trying to gather herself. “A microscope i-is a tool used to analyse samples. Like being able to see… Um…” She reached down to the grass and dirt, pulling up into view a single leaf, crumpled, but otherwise intact. “Inside a plant there are cells. By having a sample like this leaf under a microscope, you can see them.”

“How?” His growl of a voice caused her body to shudder. Despite her discomfort, his being there as a stranger just listening to what she had to say reminded her of how someone would message the forums asking a simple question she could answer. At least over the internet and in the college chatrooms, people appreciated her knowledge.

She expanded on how it all worked, and felt herself go on and ramble. What could have been answered in fifty words had ended up becoming an entire thesis. Then came the questions about how she got into college studying science as a woman and what the internet was. Like Ashley and Laurie, it seemed he had been ripped out of a time long before her own. How long had he been here? Still, who knows how much time passed, but through it all, whilst he sketched into the forest floor, she answered all of his inquiries and explained how it all worked. She appreciated how he didn’t seem to have any prejudices despite his time, and when bringing up the topic, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

“It never mattered to my father. It doesn’t matter to me.”

When Claudette felt her rump and tailbone beginning to ache, she stood slowly, feeling a little better to talk to someone other than her teammates. As she stood, so did he; carefully sidestepping around his sketch until he faced her. She felt a little trapped just due to his sheer size and might, but when she moved, he did not reach out or follow behind. Instead, he took a step back in the opposite direction.

“Come with me.” She said, feeling a flush enter her cheeks. It was a little embarrassing saying that so quickly, but after their hours (she had to presume) of talking, she didn’t want to return to the group without him. Who knows? A man of his size might be able to help them in the trials.

“No.”

“W-Why not?” She felt a little astounded. Why wouldn’t he want to come? “I-It is okay. No one is going to run you off. I just needed time to myself. You should come with me. I’m sure the others will be happy to meet you.”

“No. I have my own to return to.”

“There are other campfires?” He looked over his shoulder, back through the thick woods from whence he came.

“Hundreds.”

“W-What?”

“Hundreds, scattered all about. We can’t go very far, but you are not the first person I have met out here.” He stepped away from her, the shadows over his form hiding his face from sight. The moonlight streaked that streaked through the woods refused to move and just grant her one last look at him. “I have to return to my own. In time, may we meet like this again.”

“Wait!” But already, he had vanished back into the dark. How a man like that could move so quickly and quietly, she had no clue. But apart from his patch of dirt, there was no sign he had even been there. In the dirt, what she saw drawn there was a truly nice sketch, if a little primitive due to the lack of tools. It was her face. Her face was in the dirt, with a small smile on her face. She bit back a huff of laughter- not out of actual amusement, but out of sheer irony that he would predict the outcome of their conversation.

She turned on her heel and went back the way she came, noting the carvings of Mashtyx in the bark of the trees, reminding her of her path. Now, as she returned to the safety of Kate’s lullaby and the warm glow of the campfire, she came to realise what was stained on his clothes. What gave him such an earthy smell. It was coal dust, much like what she smelt in the coal mines of the Macmillan estate.

#DBD #Dead by Daylight #The Trapper #Claudette Morel #DBD Fanfiction #DBD Fanfic #HarcourtHolmesII

8 notes · View notes

l0lsat-wod · 3 years

Text

~Random Domestic Head Canon Series~

On the topic of fear...

Hawks x fem OC

Warning! Slightly steamy toward the end - read at your own discretion!

Misaki had never been a fan of horror movies. Particularly the ones that were designed to terrify people about perfectly normal occurrences—like the power going out during a typhoon. The tropical storm had hit land earlier that afternoon, prompting the government to issue a discretionary advisory to remain indoors until the worst of it had passed. And so, Misaki was contently snuggled into her bed with one of her favorite books, a pair of earbuds nestled into her ears and playing a soft symphony of orchestral music in an effort to drown out the sounds of the storm raging outside her apartment.

Under normal circumstances, she would not have thought twice about the lights flickering for a moment before snapping off. Being the overly prepared person that she was, there were several, strategically placed flashlights and candles all over her apartment; at least two weeks’ worth of emergency provisions were also stashed away in her pantry in the event that she became unable to leave. The building she lived in had fortified storm glass on all of the doors and windows that was certified to withstand winds up to 190 km/h. She had absolutely no reason to be worried about being alone in her home during a typhoon.

Under normal circumstances.

Goosebumps skittered over the skin of her arms and neck as she was suddenly awashed in pitch black. The sun had already gone down outside her window almost an hour ago, granting an ominous feel to the torrential rain that poured from the angry clouds overhead. She could hear it over the music playing in her ears, beating against her windows with a driving force that threatened to overcome the reinforced glass. Taking a deep, calming breath, she carefully set her book aside and removed her earbuds, placing them on the nightstand before reaching into the drawer to pull out the flashlight inside. She clicked the button on the barrel of the device to turn it on, sighing softly in relief as the bulb flickered to life and cast a beam of bright light across the floor of her bedroom. Her relief was abruptly replaced with a flash of panic as the light suddenly cut off and she was once again bathed in darkness.

Misaki had never been afraid of the dark. She didn’t believe in ghosts or any of the multitude of creatures that were made up to keep little children from venturing out of their beds in the middle of the night. It had always been a philosophy of hers to face things that seemed intimidating with a rational mindset. Prepare. Remain calm. Don’t overreact. As was her mantra in fearful situations.

Under normal circumstances.

But Misaki’s circumstances were somewhat abnormal at the moment. She had engaged in an activity recently which she’d never allowed herself to experience before—mostly because she found the practice of subjecting oneself to something that was made to induce irrational fear utterly ridiculous. However, she had grudgingly let Hawks talk her into watching what he called a “cult classic” horror film during their regular date night last week. The black and white zombie flick had been more campy than frightening, but Hawks had insisted that they watch it in the dark in order to set the proper mood. She hadn’t thought the experience had affected her much, until this moment.

A soft rattling sound from the main room made her jump. Her eyes, which still weren’t quite adjusted to the dark, shot over toward her bedroom door. A sudden wave of fear sent shivers racing up from the base of her spine to the roots of her hair. Reaching out for her phone on the nightstand, Misaki kept her eyes trained firmly in the direction of the living room. Visions of zombies clamoring at her front door filled her mind, feeding her irrational paranoia about the skittering, scraping sound that was probably just a piece of debris washed up onto her balcony by the storm. She felt her hand brush the edge of her phone on top of the nightstand and a new wave of horror assailed her when she heard it clatter onto the floor a moment later. The light from the screen flashed for a second before going dark.

Her heart plummeted into the pit of her stomach. Not only had she apparently forgotten to check the batteries in her stash of flashlights, but her ridiculous fearfulness had sent her only other source of light into the oblivion of darkness beneath her. She slid her eyes closed and took a moment to calm her nerves, determinedly beating back the thoughts of zombies and any other nonsensical fears her subconscious mind had seen fit to drum up to suit her current situation. Swallowing down her anxieties, she carefully swung her legs over the edge of the bed and settled her feet onto the floor, sighing dejectedly when she didn’t feel them brush against her phone. Making her way across the room by memory alone, Misaki slowly and carefully headed for the bedroom door.

Almost apprehensively, she stepped out into the living room of her apartment, scanning her cherry blossom colored eyes across the open space for any signs of abnormality. She still couldn’t make out much more than vague shapes in the darkness, but her eyes finally appeared to be adjusting. Her bare feet softly padded across the cool hardwood, carrying her over to the side table next to the couch where she had another flashlight stored—hopefully with a set of fully charged batteries inside. She sighed in relief, shoulders visibly slumping, when she clicked the button and soft light lit up the space—and remained lit.

Again, the scraping sound drew Misaki’s attention, but it wasn’t coming from the balcony—it was coming from the front door.

Panic gripped her. Who in the world would be trying to access her apartment during a typhoon? She hadn’t ordered anything to be delivered, and maintenance would have announced themselves before attempting to enter her home. Her subconscious brain took the opportunity while her conscious mind was spinning through all of the possible rational explanations to remind her of the zombies, and she immediately shook her head against the thought. The most likely scenario, she decided, was that someone was attempting to break in and rob her. Now that she could handle.

She kept her footsteps light as she tiptoed across the room to the front door, picking up the softball bat that she kept in the umbrella carousel next to the entryway closet as she moved. She lifted it up over her head in preparation, clicking off the flashlight as quietly as she could as the lock on her door clicked open and the handle began to turn. As soon as the door crept inward, she swung her bat down, aiming at the top of her intruders head. The trespasser swiftly sidestepped the swing, gripping her wrist and sweeping her back up against the wall behind her. The glow from the emergency floodlights in the hallway outside her apartment just barely illuminated the side of her intruder’s face, and she sucked in a sharp gasp of surprise.

“Keigo?”

He glanced up at the weapon she’d used to attack him with and asked in an incredulous tone of voice, “Is that a steel bat?”

“It’s composite,” Misaki grumbled.

Hawks sighed as he released her and stepped back. “Steel would be better if you’re planning to use it for self-defense, you know?”

She dropped the bat back down into the umbrella carousel and shrugged. “The steel ones were too heavy.” Turning toward him, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts and shot him an incredulous glare. “Mind telling me what you’re doing coming in through the front door unannounced?”

His hand rose to rub the back of his head in a sheepish gesture. “Sorry about that. I kinda dropped my key on the balcony and it got washed away by the rain… I tried calling once I got inside but I couldn’t get through.”

Misaki widened her eyes and blanched, suddenly remembering the scraping at the balcony door earlier, and her fallen smartphone laying on the floor of her bedroom. “So that was you…”

“Who did you think it was?” Hawks curiously asked, cocking his head to the side with an expression of concerned interest etched across his handsome face.

There was no way in hell she was telling him that she’d considered there might be zombies trying to break into her apartment.

Crossing her arms, she turned her head to the side and scoffed, glancing back at him mischievously from the corner of her eye. “Just some vagabond looking to escape the rain and raid my food stash.”

He raised an incredulous eyebrow. “On the twentieth floor?”

“Was I wrong?” She playfully shot back.

Hawks let out an uncomfortable chuckle while nervously scratching his cheek with his gloved finger.

The lights in her apartment abruptly flashed on, drowning out the shadows and illuminating the two of them—one clad in an oversized light gray sweater and sleep shorts, and the other in a sopping wet beige hero costume. Blinking at the sudden brightness that seared through her retinas, Misaki quickly noticed the growing puddle that Hawks was making on the hardwood floor of her rented entryway and gasped. She flung the front door closed and reached behind him for one of her fluffy scarves hanging from the coat rack on the wall, tossing it at his feet before pushing him into the open doorway leading into the kitchen to his right. The floor in there was tile at least.

“Hey—!” He protested at her forceful actions.

Her eyes flashed up at him in warning as her dangerously low toned voice growled, “If you ruin these floors, you’re paying to have them replaced.”

“Geh—!” Hawks flinched away from the death glare currently aimed his way before shrugging out of his coat and gloves and carefully laying them in the kitchen sink. His boots and pants were next until he was standing there in his damp, but no longer dripping undergarments. Holding up his hands in a peacemaking gesture, he cracked a nervous grin and asked, “Better?”

Raking her eyes down his scantly clad form, she took a long moment to enjoy the view before she heard him nervously clear his throat. She finished sopping up the puddle he’d made and stood, stepping toward him and tossing the wet scarf into the sink with his clothes. He held his ground, gazing down at her with heated interest as she invaded his personal space. She held his stare as she slowly and deliberately trailed her index finger down the middle of his pecs and between the chiseled line of his abdomen to curl into the waistband of his boxer shorts.

The telltale bobbing of his adam’s apple drew her gaze just before his lowered voice murmured, “Misa-chan?”

Sliding her gaze up to his, she smirked at the heady look in his golden stare and the faint flush coloring his cheeks. She could almost hear the thrumming of his heart in his chest, beating at a cadence to match her own as she felt her arousal spike in response. She was suddenly transported back in her memory to the night that they’d watched that ridiculous horror film, could feel the rush of adrenaline that had sent her pulse racing—and the excitement that had lead to a very passionate lovemaking session right there on the living room couch as the credits rolled.

Her smirk widened into a wicked grin; perhaps horror movies weren’t so nonsensical after all…

Part of a planned series of short, domestic drabbles featuring Misaki and Hawks. They will be based on how both of them react to certain emotions (mostly). This one is Misaki's fear drabble. Planning to write Hawks next - wish me luck! 😬

Might add some tags later... might not... who knows! 🤷

2 notes · View notes

sagemoderocklee · 4 years

Note

Prompt list 2, #11 for gaalee!

okay, it’s been ages since i reblogged whatever that prompt list was and i don’t remember what it was and i was only able to find one list of prompts and tbh, i had so much fun writing Gaara drunk for Kado that i’m just gonna roll with the prompt I found because i need a warm-up writing exercise to get me movin today. this is kind of aimless and rambling and not really anything special fyi.

based on the prompt it’s probably obvious, but tw for discussions of alcohol use (past, not shown) and also for insensitive jokes surrounding drunken sex (there wasn’t actually any but kankurou can be an asshole)

things you said when you were drunk

Gaara groaned, rolling over and directly into another body. It was a well-muscled body, because it felt like Gaara had rolled directly into a wall. His mouth tasted foul. Worse than foul. Was there a word for that? He didn’t know, and his brain wasn’t offering up any stronger alternatives at the present moment because it was head was pounding as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.

He forced his eyes open, lifting his head to stare at the prone figure at his side.

“Oh no,” he groaned. What happened? Had he really gotten so trashed at his sister’s wedding that he’d taken a stranger up to his room and--

“Good morning!” The stranger was awake. And very loud.

Gaara groaned in protest, pulling his pillow over his head.

“I am so sorry,” the man dropped his voice. Barely. “Would you like me to order some room service?”

Gaara shook his head beneath the pillow. What he wanted was for his drunken mistake to go away. Far away.

“I am sorry, I could not hear you. What was that?”

“Please,” Gaara begged, voice cracking. “Please, don’t talk. Just... shhhh.”

The man gave a quiet little ‘ah’ of understanding, rising from the bed and shuffling around the room. Gaara changed lifting the pillow up to look at the stranger, who was busy putting a shirt on. Gaara’s face flushed.

“Do you--do you know what happened last night?” he finally asked. He shifted, rising from the bed in a hunched fashion, blankets falling to reveal his rumbled suit.

“Of course! You got very, very drunk and uh, well...” The man flushed, his odd, boyish face turning bright red. He coughed. “You said some.... things. I promise, nothing happened.”

“Then... why are you in my room?”

The man laughed, as loud as he talked. “We are in my room. You were too drunk to tell me what room was yours, and I could not find any of your friends or family to help me. I did not want to leave you all by yourself in your state, but I promise, I was a perfect gentleman.”

His rescuer struck a pose, the most dramatic thumb’s up Gaara had ever seen, and smiled with all his teeth.

“Are you sure you do not want me to order some room service? I have it on good authority that the free coffee is not particularly good, and I am sure you could use a pick me up.”

Gaara’s stomach turned over. He smacked his lips, his mouth as dry as a desert. Finally, he relented. “I could use some coffee.”

“Perfect! Here.” A menu was thrust into his face, the words blurring for a second. “I was going to order breakfast, too. Feel free to pick out whatever you want.”

“Um... I don’t wanna put you to anymore trouble,” Gaara hedged, though he couldn’t deny he was hungry.

“Nonsense! If it was any trouble, I would not have offered.”

“I can pay you back--”

“Please, think nothing of it.” The man disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, leaving Gaara to look over the menu and wonder about the finer details of the night before.

He could remember the first toast and the second toast clearly, but by the third his memory was fuzzy. He’d always been a lightweight, but he was usually more careful about how much he drank, knowing full well the limits of his tolerance.

The man returned from the bathroom, smiling as though he hadn’t spent the night before partying. How could he be so chipper first thing in the morning?

“Did you decide on what you wanted?”

“I’ll just have a plain omelette.” That should hopefully be gentle on his roiling stomach. “And a coffee. Black with sugar.”

“That sounds like the perfect thing to perk you up!”

Gaara didn’t want to ask, but he had to know. “What exactly happened last night? I mean, I know nothing--nothing happened between us, but I don’t remember even meeting you.”

The man’s expression was caught between open embarrassment and dejection. “Ah, I should have realized you would not remember that. I think you were already quite drunk by the time Naruto-kun introduced us.”

“Naruto? So then you were one of Shikamaru’s guests?” He’d had to assume, given that no one else was in the room with them that this stranger hadn’t been anyone’s plus one. And he certainly didn’t seem like the sort of person his sister would associate with.

“Indeed, I was! Shikamaru-kun and Naruto-kun are very dear friends of mine, and I was overjoyed to hear about Shikamaru-kun’s engagement to Temari-san! She is your sister, right?”

“Um, yeah. How come I’ve never met you before the wedding?”

“I live abroad! I work in the film industry, so I am always traveling back and forth between LA and Japan. Of course, when I got the invitation, I was worried I would not be able to make it, but thankfully, my schedule opened up and here I am!”

Gaara had to wonder if everyone in LA was this upbeat and earnest.

“And can I ask your name?” An embarrassed flush crept up the back of Gaara’s neck, mixed with the guilt of having forgotten everything about the man.

“Rock Lee!” Again, the man gave a thumb’s up, the dramatic flair perfectly suited to a career in film, Gaara thought dryly.

“Rock Lee. Well, Rock Lee, I appreciate you taking care of me last night. I hope I wasn’t too much trouble.”

The embarrassed flush from before returned to Rock Lee’s incredibly expressive face, a dead giveaway that he was leaving out some very important details. He laughed nervously, waving his hands. “N-no! You were no trouble at all, Gaara-san! Just a little too drunk to be left alone!”

“What are you not telling me?” Gaara asked, but Rock Lee had already picked up the phone and dialed room service. Gaara narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t avoid the conversation forever. Gaara was still in his room, after all.

Once their breakfast order had been placed, Rock Lee offered to let Gaara shower while they waited, a clear sign that he was trying to avoid filling Gaara in on all the horrid details from the night’s festivities.

Gaara allowed him to sidestep the issue--a shower did sound nice and perhaps if he let it go, Rock Lee would drop his guard and let something slip.

By the time he got out of the shower, their food had arrived, and Lee had changed into fresh clothes.

“Breakfast!” Rock Lee chimed. “How was your shower? Do you feel rejuvenated?”

Gaara couldn’t fathom the way Lee spoke. He shrugged. “A bit. Food smells good.”

The omelette was perfectly bland, and the coffee sufficiently strong, which went a long way in lifting Gaara’s mood and settling his stomach. He eyed Rock Lee carefully from the corner of his eye as he ate, weighing the best way to get the truth out of him.

“So,” Gaara began when his omelette was almost gone and his head had cleared. “Did you have fun last night? I mean, before you had to babysit me.”

“I did not mind that!” Rock Lee insisted. “And I did have fun! It was so wonderful seeing all my friends again, and to be able to celebrate Shikamaru-kun’s union with your sister!” A tear glistened at the corner of his round eye, caught between his thick lashes.

“Um, yeah. It was great. Really nice ceremony and all.”

“The ceremony was magical!” The tears in his eyes welled, fat drops clamoring to be free from the clutches of his lashes. “I have never seen such a splendid wedding! Well, I have not been to very many weddings. My friends, Neji and Tenten, are getting married next summer--oh, but you probably do not remember them.”

“They don’t sound familiar,” Gaara confirmed.

“Well, Neji is Hinata-san’s cousin--”

“And that is?”

“Naruto-kun’s girlfriend!” Lee said, scandalized. “How could you not know her?”

“Honestly, I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend.” Had she been with him last night? Gaara remembered running into Naruto, but he definitely didn’t remember a woman with him.

“Oh, that is--well, I suppose you and Naruto-kun have not been in touch recently! Because they have been dating for some time now.”

The look on Rock Lee’s face kept Gaara from countering this fact. Clearly, there was trouble in paradise if Naruto had been dating her for ‘some time’ and not told Gaara.

“So,” Gaara quickly searched for a new topic, something that would lead to more concrete answers about the night before. “Naruto dumped me on you, and then ran off with his girlfriend?”

There was a long moment of silence wherein Rock Lee’s expressive face pinched tight, his strange mouth pressed into a line so tight his lips went white. “Actually, he was distracted by Sasuke-kun, but... well that is always how he has been. But I did not mind taking care of you!”

“My brother says I’m a handful when I’m drunk,” Gaara goaded. “Says I get really weepy.”

“Not at all! You were perfectly happy to be in my company! You even--” He stopped short, flushing. He cleared his throat. “You were very happy to spend time with me, even if you do not remember.”

Damn. So close.

“Huh. Well, lucky you then. You didn’t drink much, I take it.”

“Actually, I cannot have alcohol at all. It... does not agree with me.”

Gaara snorted derisively. “I don’t think it agrees with me either.”

“True,” Rock Lee said with a laugh. “However, at least you do not cause property damage when you drink.”

Property damage? Gaara’s curiosity was piqued, but as he opened his mouth to ask further questions, his pocket began to vibrate. The caller ID was a photo of Kankurou, and he answered quickly. “Hey.”

“Heyyyyyy,” Kankurou drawled, his tone arch. “How’s my lil brother doin’ today?”

Gaara glared. “Hungover, no thanks to you and Naruto.”

Kankurou guffawed, his laugh echoing loudly through the phone’s speaker. “I’m sorry,” he said after a minute, completely unapologetic.

“No you’re not,” Gaara said.

“You’re right. I’m not. Soooo. What happened with that guy? The bowl-cut? You two were gettin’ pretty cozy, eh?”

Gaara caught Rock Lee’s wide-eyed gaze at that moment, both of them equally red thanks to Kankurou’s carrying voice.

“Unlike some people,” Gaara stated, accusingly, “Rock Lee didn’t abandon me to fend for myself.”

“Oh, I bet,” Kankurou teased.

“Fuck you,” Gaara said, rolling his eyes. “He made sure I was okay. That’s it.”

“So if I go to your room right now, I’m not gonna find that bowl-cut in there?”

“You’re not gonna find me in there, either. I’m in his room.” Not exactly proof solid that nothing happened, at least not in Kankurou’s mind, but Gaara knew his brother. He’d be knocking down Gaara’s door any minute.

Kankurou whistled. “Damn. And you expect me to believe nothing happened?”

“He’s right here. You can ask him yourself.” Gaara put his phone on speaker, holding it between himself and an indignant Rock Lee.

“Oh shi--”

“Hello,” Rock Lee greeted, his tone clipped. “I will have you know that I would never take advantage of someone in their drunken state and I do not appreciate your mockery!”

Gaara sniggered, covering his face with his hand, while the other end was silent.

“Damn, looks like you got yourself a knight in shining armor, huh, lil brother?” Kankurou finally said. “All right. Guess I better leave you to it. Sorry for insulting your character, Bowl-Cut.” Again, Kankurou did not sound even the least bit sorry.

Rock Lee’s huff of indignation made it clear he wasn’t buying Kankurou’s apology.

“Whatever, jackass,” Gaara said. “I’ll see you later.”

He hung up without another word, tossing his phone on the bed.

“Sorry about my brother.”

“That is all right. I know what it must have looked like to others, but I promise I would never do anything untoward!”

“Yeah, I gathered,” Gaara said. “I appreciate it, by the way.”

“Please, do not mention it. Common decency does not need to be rewarded with thanks!”

Gaara eyed his phone thoughtfully, a thought occurring to him. “I suppose that’s fair. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

He snatched his phone from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom again, opening up his photo album. Sure enough, there were countless photos and videos from the night before, including a particularly long one, the thumbnail of which he could see Rock Lee’s shining black bowl-cut.

He pressed play.

“--so cute,” a drunk Gaara slurred, the image shaking as he held his phone and zoomed in on an oblivious Lee sitting with a pair of people he didn’t recognize.

Naruto’s familiar snicker echoed through the video. “You think Gejimayu’s cute?”

“Shhhhh!” Gaara shoved the camera and his free hand directly into Naruto’s face, clamping a hand over his mouth. “He’ll hear you!”

The camera zoomed in on Rock Lee again, his friends rising from the table and disappearing on the crowded dance floor.

“You want me to introduce you?”

“Noooooo,” Gaara said. “No, he’s--he’s so--”

The expression on Naruto’s face was one of comic confusion. He stared back and forth between the camera and Rock Lee, eyebrows high on his forehead. “I don’t know a single person who’s ever looked at Rock Lee and been flustered. You are drunker than I thought.”

“Dick,” Gaara grumbled, training the camera on Rock Lee again. “Oh, shit.”

The video ended, the camera half falling as Gaara fumbled to turn it away from Rock Lee who had caught him filming.

Gaara swiped to the next photo, which was of him and Naruto, both utterly shitfaced. The next item in his album was another video, shorter than the first.

“--dare you to go talk to him!” Naruto was egging Gaara on.

Gaara snickered, even his laughter filled with drunken slurring. “What--what should I say?”

“Tell him you think his eyebrows are sexy,” Naruto laughed.

Gaara swung the camera around so that it focused on Rock Lee over his shoulder.

“You have to come with me,” Gaara begged.

Gaara couldn’t take it anymore and he closed out of the video, his face awash with heat. He wondered if he’d ever actually told Rock Lee his eyebrows were sexy or if he’d done some other embarrassing thing in front of him.

Either way, he was amazed the man hadn’t abandoned him.

When he returned from the bathroom, Rock Lee had gathered up their dishes and was making the bed.

“Are you feeling all right?” he asked, looking up from his task.

“Yeah, I--” He stared at Rock Lee’s face and his thick eyebrows, embarrassment hot in his face. “I hope I didn’t say anything or do anything last night that was um...”

The smile Rock Lee sent his way was filled with fondness, which was strange given how little Gaara remembered from the night before.

“You do not need to worry. Even if you were a bit handsy,” he added, then blushed.

Gaara was mortified, but he couldn’t say he was surprised to by the admission based on what little he’d been able to bring himself to watch on his phone.

“I’m so sorry,” he managed, fighting to find his voice through embarrassment.

“Please do not worry! I did not mean to say that, I was just--I mean--it was fine! Honest! I understand you were drunk, and Naruto-kun probably put you up to it--”

“What? No! He didn’t--I mean, he encouraged me to talk to you because I thought you were cute--”

“Right, when you were drunk--��

“I think you’re cute now!” Gaara said quickly. “I’m just not... good at this stuff.”

A smile worked its way onto Rock Lee’s face, so wide it looked like it hurt. “Really? You--you actually think I am cute?”

Gaara shifted awkwardly. “Yeah, I mean, is that really so surprising?”

Rock Lee laughed. “For me, yes. Most people do not think I am cute.”

“Their loss.”

“Do you,” Rock Lee began, then stopped, hesitating. “I hope this is not presumptuous of me, but would you want to grab dinner sometime?”

Gaara couldn’t quite believe his luck. He’d have to thank Naruto for foisting him off on Rock Lee, because if he hadn’t, there was no way Gaara would have worked up the nerve to have talked to the man.

“I’d love to,” he finally managed, a smile on his face.

Who knew waking up hungover could end so well?

#naruto #shippuden #rock lee #gaara #gaalee #uzumaki naruto #leegaa

35 notes · View notes

prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

What Happens After Midnight

Summary: You normally spent every year trying to avoid your relatives at the annual NYE’s party. But with a twist in fate, you would meet someone who would change your viewpoint of the last hours of each year completely.

Pairing: Yoo Kihyun x reader

Prompt: Fake!Boyfriend/Fake!Girlfriend AU

Genre: fake boyfriend au / fluff

Warnings: typical cliché fairytale talk that I like to do a little too much!

A/N: this is part of the @kwritersworld Christmas Prompt Event. I chose to do mine for a New Years Eve scenario so hopefully that still works! This is the last fiction of 2019, thank you everyone for a fantastic fiction-filled year!

Word count: 4014

Letting out an anxious breath, you sidestepped through a gap your Aunt Marcie hadn’t overtaken yet, her voice booming around for all those who wanted to hear about her year in business for the fourth time this evening.

You didn’t like parties at the best of times, but the end of year party was the one you despised the most.

As a family, you all opted to spend Christmas in your close-knit units, meaning the festive day was quiet and cheerful most of the time. You liked this part of the tradition, knowing you could stay in your Christmas pyjamas all day until helping in the kitchen with dinner. Your family never really did much and you loved that. You could be comfortable and not worry about impressing anyone.

New Year’s Eve was an entirely different story. Your whole family would get together and host a hall where friends, family and even colleagues were welcome to join. It was messy in your opinion, no true rhyme or reason. Family would catch up, judgements would be made, competing over who had the most successful year. Friends would attempt to get involved and you had no idea why the work colleagues came. Most of the time they would just hang out together by the bar, not participating in the antics of your family.

You did love some of your family but it was just too much socialising for an introvert like you. If you hadn’t been expected to attend as a family member each year, you would be at home, nestled in front of the TV watching a movie on Netflix and no doubt be asleep well before the New Year even rang in.

Instead, you were skirting through crowds in attempts to remain unseen, holding your breath and making rounds of the room constantly, lessening the chance of being caught by anyone. There was only a little over half an hour left until the clock hit twelve and finally then it would be acceptable to escape. You couldn’t exactly exclaim to have a headache like last year. It was written within the family newsletter that you had left early for little reason and you would at least last until then to remain out of the gossip lines of the party write up this year.

But luck would not grant you an easy passage all night long. You had avoided your Uncle Matt’s magic tricks that hadn’t changed over twenty years and ducked out of sight from your cousin Melissa’s constant gushing over her recent engagement.

There was, however, no way to escape your cousin Joshua. You should have known better and when he rocked up in front of you, it took all your effort to not openly roll your eyes or backtrack in your step. “Well, well, well. I thought I wouldn’t see you all night long, Y/N. Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Nowhere, I’ve just been making my rounds.”

“No headache this year?” he remarked, feigning concern as he examined you from head to toe. You suppressed the urge to stamp on his expensive boat shoes, even though it was highly inviting.

After all, he was the one who ratted you out last year to his mother, the editor in chief of the family newsletter.

“Absolutely not, though perhaps if I spend too much time in your company, I’ll feel one come on.”

“Now, cousin why are you being so foolish? We used to be the best of friends, didn’t we? Being the same age meant we were basically raised as twins.”

You smiled forcibly, knowing those innocent years were long gone. You had considered him like a brother until he exposed your secrets in high school one year for everyone in the hallway to hear. You had since taken a distinct dislike to spend any time in his company.

Whilst he relished in discovering more weaknesses to drag you down with.

“No boyfriend this year?” Joshua questioned, looking about you as if one would magically conjure up. “Again?”

“Is everything going well at the office?” you bit back courageously, somehow surprising yourself as much as you did Joshua. Your momentary burst of confidence waned and you tried to grapple onto what little remained. “I hope it’s going well for you.”

“Y/N, how dare you talk of that here!” he hissed and you stepped back, blinking rapidly as you bumped into someone.

And your breath hitched in your throat when they wrapped an arm around your waist. Darting your stunned focus up to the face of the person holding you, you merely stared at his side profile until he angled his head, smiling at you graciously. You were grateful for the firm grip around your waist as you felt your legs weaken a little.

He was far too handsome for you to handle right now.

“I finally found you. How could you play such a trick on me, baby? I just went to the bathroom and then you were nowhere to be found. I’ve been looking for you all this time!”

No one responded immediately, your gaze still upon the handsome stranger’s face and Joshua was watching you both intently. With a subtle press of his fingers into your side, you straightened, an awkward, breathy laugh tumbling out of you in response. “Oh, uh, I was-”

“Is this your cousin you were telling me all about?” the man prompted and you looked between them, suddenly nodding your head vigorously.

Joshua tentatively held out a hand to take the stranger’s outstretched one. “Joshua Melton. And you are Y/N’s friend?”

“Friend?” he repeated and chuckled, shaking his head. “Not unless that’s how you refer to someone you’re dating. Right, Y/N?”

It was growing difficult as you struggled to keep up with the conversation and not grow faint from the smell of his aftershave. You were overstimulated in this environment and so you snapped away from the stranger’s side, causing him to eye you carefully. He was working too hard on your behalf to mess this up and so you took over, slipping your arm more comfortably around his middle.

You then smiled. “How silly would it be to call you a friend-”

“I’m Yoo Kihyun. I work in marketing and met Y/N when she was doing an article on the trending marketing tactics of twenty-eighteen.”

You looked at Kihyun in wonder. You had edited an article on that topic and so it surprised you that he knew who you were and yet you had no idea where this mystery man had even come from. Still, he was helping you regain some credibility in front of your cousin and that was all you needed to focus on right now.

“I guess you’ve been so busy at work Josh that you hadn’t even heard my dating news?”

“I mean, it is early days,” Kihyun offered and you nodded thoughtfully, trying not to grin too much.

“It’s in that stage where I feel like every time I see you is the first time all over again.”

Kihyun snorted and Joshua chuckled hollowly.

“Well, uh, I’ll leave you both to it. Y/N, lovely to see you!”

“You too, Josh!” you called after his tailwind departure, trying not to giggle in triumph. You then turned to Kihyun, who was still holding you. Looking at his embrace, your cheeks flared. “Oh, uh well um-”

“We’re a couple now, at least for tonight, so we better make sure it remains a known fact for old Melton there,” Kihyun told you and you nodded gingerly, slipping away just enough to grab Kihyun’s hand and lead him over to an empty seating area along the wall.

“Thank you so much. You have no idea what your help tonight means to me.”

Kihyun shrugged, smiling at you again. “I think I have a fair idea.”

“You do?” Blinking slowly, you tried to remember if you had truly met Kihyun anywhere. He allowed your curious examination before chuckling softly at you. “Have we met before?”

“I’ve seen you before, but this is our first time talking, Y/N.”

“Then how do you – I mean, you knew about my article and everything!”

“Well, when you come to events like this each year, you kind of get the rundown of family dynamics after a while.”

“This isn’t your first time?”

Kihyun shook his head, turning thoughtful. “I think it’s about my fourth time? I work for one of your relatives and I get a bonus for turning up. Sounds ridiculous, but I work hard-”

“You should be rewarded for it then,” you concluded on his behalf and Kihyun nodded. “Well, again, thank you. Joshua has been holding power over me for years and even though I knew about his rocky position at work, I normally don’t speak up so boldly. I’m really glad that I had support to get through that moment.”

“I have to admit I find you incredibly interesting.”

“Oh?” Your cheeks felt warm again. “You do?”

Kihyun laughed heartily. “You are quite a funny little thing. Each year you try to hide. Why bother coming if you don’t want to be here? The first year I came, you were pressing yourself against that pillar there.”

You glanced at the large column and sighed weakly. You had hoped that hiding behind it in the corner would keep you out of Melissa’s wrath that year. She had just broken up with her soon to be husband for the eighth time and you hadn’t known and mistakenly asked her about him.

Kihyun continued. “And the next year, I swear you dropped to the ground and hid under a table at one point. Then last year you disappeared after claiming to have a headache and until your cousin found you tonight, were you waltzing independently?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, dropping your head into your hand momentarily before peeing back at Kihyun. “I’m rather foolish, aren’t I?”

“You don’t like family gatherings?”

“I might edit articles for several magazines and speak with a lot of people, but I am definitely no extrovert. Events like these really aren’t my thing.”

“Then why come?” Kihyun leaned forward, arching an eyebrow dramatically. “Are you being paid too?”

“No, but I wish I was,” you answered with a laugh. He laughed with you for a moment and you smiled. “This is actually the first event in gosh, ten years, where I’ve genuinely laughed. I owe you a lot tonight.”

“Well, you don’t have to pay me for it; it’s been a pleasure to have something to do other than observe the rituals of this party.”

Sharing a smile, you got lost in his gaze, startled when the countdown to midnight began. You didn’t join in, nor did Kihyun. Instead, you continued your moment.

And when the clock struck twelve, you leaned in and kissed Kihyun.

He didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, placing a hand on your cheek as his mouth pressed into yours. It was the best way to bring in the New Year you decided, and when you finally pulled apart as celebrations rang around the entire party, you smiled brightly at him.

“Happy New Year, Kihyun.”

“You too, Y/N.”

When you opened your eyes the following morning, you couldn’t erase your smile. The events of last night played over in your mind and you rolled about in your bed excitedly, kicking at your sheets as you squealed.

It felt like a dream and yet, Kihyun had truly been a knight in shining armour.

Not only that, he had kissed you again after the first kiss and you had ended the night with one more before getting into an Uber and heading home. It was all so magical; you half expected a solo glass slipper to be sitting over on the chair with last night’s dress.

It was when you got up and started brushing your teeth that you realised there were some flaws in your fairytale ending. You racked your brain for any point in time where you asked for a way to contact him. Surely you would have thought to grab his phone number or a social media account in the very least. But as you replayed each scene carefully, taking your time to cleanse your face in between, you gasped, realising you hadn’t so much as mentioned exchanging details.

After patting your face dry, you reached for your phone on the basin, scrolling through for any new contacts. You knew you had none, but you checked several times, chewing on your bottom lip anxiously as you did so. There was no trace of Kihyun anywhere. Placing the device down with a little more effort than usual, you pouted up at your reflection. It was then that you noticed you had bumped the camera button and went to close out of it, spotting a thumbnail from a previous photo you had taken. Clicking it, you realised your phone did have at least one sign of Kihyun on it, easing your sudden return to thinking it had been a dream. There was only one photo, but it was enough to let your heart sing out as you stared fondly at your selfie with him.

Still, it wasn’t enough. And when you recalled that he worked for a relative, you couldn’t remember which one – or if he had even said who. Your family was large and it would take you some time to find the answer.

With the twist in events, you realised that it was Kihyun who should have left you a glass slipper instead. Aside from his name, in which a quick search on your social media handles and a Google search of his name left you empty-handed, you only had a photo to go upon.

As you thought over his kisses one more time, you felt determined to try and find him all the same. You hadn’t just kissed him out of gratitude, and you were certain Kihyun hadn’t helped you because he was amused by your antics either.

Despite all efforts, you exhausted your resources. You asked around the family as discreetly as you could for Kihyun and came back with no information at all. He eluded you on every step and as the months went by, you slowly became convinced that he was a mystical pixie of the night. It was the only thing you could conclude it to as Yoo Kihyun had otherwise entirely disappeared from your life altogether.

Not that he had been in it for all that long, to begin with.

And so, when Christmas arrived again, you had almost forgotten all about the man who saved you last year.

Almost.

Of course, when your family had gotten together earlier in the year, you had fibbed that your boyfriend had to work overseas so you had chosen to separate for the time being. Somehow, that was all you could hold onto as well. Being unable to find him here felt more plausible when you considered it was because he wasn’t in the city anymore.

And as you readied for the annual New Year’s Eve party, you told yourself you wouldn’t search for Kihyun in the shadows, not even once.

You arrived at an acceptable hour and politely had drinks with Melissa who was newly married, listening to her gush about her wedding as if you hadn’t been there to witness it all. You didn’t sidestep around Aunt Marcie, and you even laughed at one of Uncle Matt’s magic tricks.

And when Joshua appeared in front of you much later into the evening, you smiled brightly at him in greeting. “Cousin.”

“Y/N, how are we doing tonight?” he wondered, leaving you no time to respond before moving onto his next question. “Oh, no boyfriend this year?”

“Afraid not, you know what happened.”

“Yes, yes, overseas you say. You know, I did ponder the idea that you faked it all.”

You shrugged. “And maybe I did. I must have paid him to come over and pretend in front of you, huh?”

“Well, it makes sense, given…”

You blinked as he trailed off, his attention falling from you. “Given what?”

“Sorry I’m late, did you wait long for me?” a voice mentioned breathlessly and you turned, your eyes widening to find Kihyun behind you. He barely gave you a look before turning to your cousin. “Oh, Jenson, right?”

“Joshua.”

“Of course, sorry. I’ve been so busy this year, it’s easy to forget about the small details. Y/N, are you okay? I know I’m really late.”

You didn’t even hear Joshua’s departing sentence, still staring up at the man before you. And slowly, you raised a hand to his face, blinking when your fingers brushed along his jawline. “You do exist.”

“What? Of course, I do.”

Looking around yourself you then dazedly looked back at him. “For only a night?”

Kihyun grew amused. “Ah, right, you seem to be expecting me to disappear after midnight. Maybe leave you a glass slipper? Dive into the back of a pumpkin carriage?”

“Cinderella leaves before midnight,” you replied indignantly and moved over to the same seating area you had last year. Kihyun sat down beside you and it took all your effort to not reach out for his hand. “And Prince Charming discovers her far more easily than you are to find.”

“I clearly left a sore spot, I apologise for that,” he mentioned and you nodded simply. “Did you look for me?”

“I don’t just kiss anyone.”

“But you kissed me, and I could be just anyone. You barely knew anything about me.”

“I still don’t.”

“What are fake dates for? It means the details can be anything,” he offered and you glanced at him cautiously.

“Did you lie about who you are last year?”

Kihyun shook his head firmly. “No, but I wasn’t entirely honest either. I had to go away and help build the new branch overseas for most of the year. It was something I had pre-planned and then I… well, you kissed me first and I should have told you then but I chose to kiss you back and lead you on. I wasn’t in any position to start something with you back then.”

You laughed, shaking your head incredulously. “I told everyone we broke up because you went overseas.”

“That’s uncanny,” he murmured and slowly took your hand. You didn’t refute his advances and Kihyun rubbed your skin gently with his thumb. “I thought of you a lot over this year.”

“Wait, you knew who I was, you could have contacted me!”

“I did, I emailed you in January right before I went overseas.”

“You didn’t!” you exclaimed, feeling flustered at the concept that he had even thought to reach out to you.

He held up his phone after a quick scroll, showing you that he had emailed your work account. Kihyun sighed sadly. “And then I rang your branch in March. They told me you had left your job as you had been given a better offer.”

“So we both looked and found no glass slipper,” you surmised.

“Are you wearing any now?”

“It was you who I thought was Cinderella, remember?” you replied, nudging your heel into the side of his shoe.

“Well, how about we do this the modern way. Give me your number. That is if you want to.”

“Are you going overseas again?”

Kihyun shook his head. “I’m receiving a promotion and running a department here. Permanently.”

You took the phone he held out and put your digits in, saving it and even pressed call before handing it back so you knew you would get his number. Kihyun laughed heartily. And then you let go of his other hand altogether, shooting him a look.

“I tried my hardest this year to not do any silly antics at this party.”

“Except when it comes to me, huh?”

“Well, like you said, as a fake date, anything can be a detail.”

“Can I share what I think would be a good idea to try?” Kihyun asked and you nodded softly. “How about, there’s a guy. Who watched you from afar for four whole years. He was completely intrigued by you but for a while, he felt that you were too closed off to approach. Then he saw you having trouble with a relative and stepped in, offering to be your fake boyfriend to rise above the ridicule of that relative. You kissed him right when it hit midnight, changing how he viewed you completely. Unfortunately, he had made prior commitments and couldn’t just drop them for a beautiful girl he barely knew more than five things about. So he did his best to try and forget about you until he came back. And now he’s slipped back into the role he started last year, though he doesn’t want to be that anymore. He wants more.”

“What does he want?” you breathed, certain your heart was now fluttering around in your stomach wildly.

Kihyun shifted closer, stopping when he heard the countdown begin. Just like last year, you didn’t join in, too focused on Kihyun’s expression. And when it finally hit midnight, his lips crashed down on yours, passionately taking you into another realm of celebrations. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed yourself against him, kissing him back with just as much demand.

When you could no longer breathe, you fell apart, heaving in some air to regulate your breathing from such a mind-blowing kiss. And Kihyun caressed your cheek affectionately.

“Let’s actually date. It’s been fun creating an alternate world with you to fool Joshua, but let’s make it real. I don’t want to have any more time go between us before I get to kiss you again.”

“You’re talking a lot for a guy who doesn’t want any more time to slip by,” you told him before pressing your lips briefly to his again.

“Happy New Year, Kihyun.”

“You too, Y/N.”

Waking up later in the morning, you peered around your room cautiously. There laid your dress from last night over on your chair, and you noticed nothing else was out of the ordinary.

And then your phone rang.

“Hello?”

“So, I was wondering if I could take you out for breakfast. Or I could make you some. I’m pretty handy in the kitchen actually. Wait, you haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

Suppressing your initial urge to squeal out euphorically, you giggled instead. “I just woke up.”

“You don’t say?”

“Wait, you could tell I woke up now? Can you see me right now?”

“I wish I could.”

Relaxing, you played with the edge of your blanket. “So it wasn’t a dream this year?”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Kihyun replied with a laugh and you imagined what he looked like right now. Was he dressed already? Or still in bed like you with messy hair? You sat up then, reaching a hand up into your hair.

If Kihyun wanted to meet up soon, you would need to get moving right now.

“So, breakfast?”

“Give me an hour and I’ll meet you anywhere,” you answered.

“An entire hour? Don’t you think it’s been too long since I last saw you? After all, we’re in that stage where seeing each other will feel like the first time all over again.”

You laughed. “You remember that line?”

“I remember everything about you that I’ve learned.”

“Which isn’t much,” you retorted as you moved into your bathroom.

“No, but I’ve decided that it’s okay.”

“Really?”

“Sure. I have all the time in the world to find out all about you now.”

“You’re not going to disappear again?”

“Not unless I’m disappearing somewhere with you.”

After arranging a place to meet up, you hung up and stared at your reflection in the mirror, biting your lip to conceal your excitement.

You really had hated those parties each year. But they had also been where you met Yoo Kihyun. Bringing in the New Year hadn’t felt this good before.

And you were more than ready to see where this year would take you.

_________________

[MONSTA X Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

256 notes · View notes

utilitycaster · 4 years

Note

I noticed in your tags, you mention the Dynasty and the Empire as ask vs. guess cultures... what do you mean by that exactly?

Here are a couple of links for more reading but it’s also summarized below:

The Atlantic

The Guardian

Basically, while it came from a blog post originally it picked up some speed in pop-social-science circles. “Ask” cultures are ones where it’s seen as okay to say no to a request, and in turn, to ask people for things when you expect that they might say no. “Guess” cultures are ones where it’s typically seen as rude to decline a request, and in turn to request something that the person might not be able to provide (or might be highly inconvenient to provide).

In short: in an “ask” culture you can just ask for what you want without knowing what the person you’re asking will say. There’s a generally more blunt and direct aspect to said cultures. In a “guess” culture you need to consider carefully what you are asking and whether it can be provided, and requires a lot more subtlety, which in turn usually means that communication in that culture involves much more reading between the lines than in an “ask” culture.

As for what you can see in the show: while some of this probably comes from the Mighty Nein clearly being outsiders to the Dynasty and insiders to the Empire, and may also be informed by my perception of the analogous real-world cultures that influenced them, compare the formality and caution of the Bright Queen and Essek to the directness of King Dwendal. The king, while still very suspicious, is much more forthcoming about that suspicion and his speculations whereas the Bright Queen really doesn’t reveal much until she has a sense of the situation.

It also puts the initial meeting with the Bright Queen in perspective - many members of the the Mighty Nein’s attitude towards the favor is “the worst she can do is say ‘no’ to us.” However, in a guess culture, putting someone in a position where they may have to say “no” is somewhat insulting, and generally adds to the picture of the Mighty Nein as totally uninformed about the Krynn culture and history.

Essek is interesting because he does turn down some requests, but he often tries to sidestep, delay, or make up for it or otherwise avoid the topic, and when he does he apologizes for it in a way that I think an asker would not feel necessary (like, these are foreign interlopers bothering you all the time asking you for tons of favors for what is, for your government, a weird sidequest, while you are personally overwhelmed. You can just say ‘no.’) I get the sense that if the situation were reversed, and a Krynn adventuring party had just turned over a beacon to the Assembly (or whatever you feel is analogous), the Assembly would be much more willing to decline requests on no uncertain terms.

I also think that this shows up in more minor interactions; think the Drow John Waters innkeeper, or Fjord’s interactions with the neighbors. It’s generally a lot more delicate of a touch than the Empire.

So in terms of that particular reblog - I think that many of the times when the Bright Queen came off as ‘declining’ to the Mighty Nein she was merely being neutral or waiting for more information and as they are used to more direct interactions they assumed that lack of a “yes” was a “no” rather than a “this is complicated and my response will be oblique as a result.”

#critical role #i am consistently blown away by Matt's worldbuilding #curlzformetal

238 notes · View notes

takadasaiko · 4 years

Note

For the h/c meme: Logan/Veronica h and s please and thank you

FFN II AO3

Summary: When one of Veronica's cases follows her home, it's Logan's life that's put in danger.

Requested Prompt: H+S Stabbed + Someone catches them as they stumble

Worth the Pain

He was running late. The test flights had gone a little longer than usual that day and he'd gotten on the road just in time to find the rest of the traffic heading northbound on the PCH. His commute back to Neptune - usually just over an hour - turned into a two hour affair, and he was starting to count even that as lucky with the way they had come to a complete standstill at one point. He had sent Veronica an update via text and she'd said they would just meet him at Mama Leone's.

Right. Dinner with Keith. Of course that would be tonight.

It was everything Logan could do to get home, get changed - as little as Veronica would complain about him showing up in uniform, Navy whites and pasta did not mix - and get over to the restaurant before the texts started rolling in.

Veronica and Keith were deep in discussion when Logan arrived, dodging a couple of kids that darted back around like they were looking to score points if they took his feet out from under him. He stayed upright though, and sidestepped towards the table in the back corner where the father-daughter PI duo were tucked away. Veronica glanced up. "Hey there, flyboy. I was starting to think you weren't gonna make it."

"Sorry. Long day." He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. Less than he wanted, but he could already feel another set of eyes focused on him with a comment loaded if not fired yet. He flashed their owner a quick smile. "Hey, Keith."

"Logan," Keith greeted. "What had you so tied up today?"

"You heard about the issues the Hornets have had with OBOGS going out?" Logan asked as he slipped into the open seat next to Veronica, across from her father. "We've been trying to pinpoint what's causing it."

"Oh sure, we were just chatting about OBOGS, weren't we, Dad? Daily conversation," Veronica quipped with that very specific smile he had quickly learned meant he was using Navy lingo no one else in the conversation knew.

"On-Board Oxygen Generation System. It pumps oxygen in through our masks so we can breathe. Thanks," he offered to the waitress as she set a basket of breadsticks down.

"What happens when it goes out?" Keith asked curiously.

Logan took a sip from the glass of wine that had been waiting for him. "Best case, you get switched over to the backup and can get on the ground pretty fast. You've got maybe ten minutes before the backup runs out."

Keith's expressions remained carefully neutral and Logan risked a glance over at Veronica who was gaping a little. She recovered quickly. "You know, I never want to hear you complain about how dangerous my job is again."

Logan chuckled. "C'mon. It's not that bad at this stage. It's controlled, every precaution taken. The engineers are trying to fix the multi-million dollar aircraft, not have us crash it."

"Have you been able to replicate the problem?" Keith asked.

"Not yet. It's been smooth flying every time." He reached for a bread stick. Time for a change of subject. "So, why am I calling your job dangerous today?"

"Today, any day," Veronica answered flippantly.

Logan arched a disbelieving eyebrow in response. "Huh-huh."

The conversation shifted again and he let it as they settled into easier topics of baseball, cameras, a particularly absurd stunt Vinnie Van Lowe pulled, weekend plans, and the newest non-chewable chew toy that Pony had gotten into.

"He ate Logan's fancy loafers," Veronica chuckled, still far more amused by it than Logan was. "The ones that cost almost as much as our rent."

"I swear that dog is learning to open doors. There's a reason I like to hang my uniforms up on the highest bars in the closet."

"I think your cap's safe on the shelf."

"I wouldn't put money on it."

"How fast would he become my dog instead of our dog to your captain if Pony got a hold of it?"

Logan flashed her a grin. "So fast."

"Excuse me," Keith mumbled and Logan saw him pulling his buzzing cell phone to his ear as he stood, leaning heavily on the cane he had had to use since the wreck. He mentally cringed at the word. Wreck didn't do it justice. Drive-by with a vehicle was closer, and who was ultimately responsible for it was actually something Logan would be willing to put money on, unlike the safety of his uniform from the chew-happy puppy. He just hoped that Neptune remembered all the shit Lamb had done by the time the election rolled around.

"So does it take the sheriff nearly twelve hours to follow up on every B&E or are we just special?" Keith groused into the phone, reclaiming Logan's attention. Think of the devil and apparently he calls.

"B&E?" he echoed. "Did your dad's place get broken into?"

"The office."

Logan blinked hard a couple of times. "Your office?"

"Yep." Veronica took a long sip from her wine glass and he waited as patiently as he could. Finally she set it down, the glass clinking against the hard table. He saw the subtle shift when she realized he wasn't going to just let her drop it. "We got in this morning and the place was ransacked. Door was broken in, Mac's monitors were trashed, and the filing cabinets had been forced open."

"You think it was someone you're after?" Logan asked, working hard to keep his tone neutral.

"Probably."

"Any idea which case?"

She shot him a look and he knew he'd already pushed it into dangerous territory. It was a delicate balance with their work. While Logan was on shore duty there weren't nearly as many secrets, but overseas he had to stay tight lipped about where they were and what they were doing. On Veronica's end, confidentiality was a must in her day-to-day work life. He understood that and worked hard not to push. Sometimes she'd vent in a vague sort of way without names or details, but mostly they erred on a respect for the confidentiality of each other's work.

Granted, his work only had people attacking him when he was deployed.

"I'm not asking for names," he said after several long, tense moments. "Just…. do you have any suspects?"

"I do."

"And?"

"Well it's not like we can arrest him ourselves," Veronica huffed and Logan reached across the table for the wine bottle to refill her nearly empty glass. She motioned for him to keep pouring and sighed. "We had a woman come in a couple of days ago. Abuse case." He knew he made a face, but if hers was anything to go by it wasn't nearly as toned down as he'd hoped. "She wanted to file a restraining order, we started gathering some evidence to back it up, hopefully get him arrested… I guess he spotted us."

Us meaning her. Her father didn't do a lot of tailing these days.

"Does he know who you are?"

"Obviously he knew where to find us."

"I mean, on sight."

"I don't know. I can usually tell when someone catches me tailing them, but he didn't show any of the usual signs. It's gotta be him though. Dad's been trying to get in touch with the sheriff's department over it all day."

"Useless assholes," Logan breathed, risking a glance at how Keith was pacing as best as he could on the phone with Lamb's office.

"Yeah."

His gaze swiveled back to her and he reached forward, his touch hesitant against her hand, but a sense of relief flooded through him as she turned it over, taking his. He ran his thumb up and down the inside of her wrist in a soothing motion. This was the best opening he had. "Hey, I know you hate it when I -"

"Oh, you know I do."

He stopped, smirked, and waited until her lips twitched into a small smile before he continued. "I know a guy that can install top-line security. I know you guys have cameras, but they're outdated, don't give a clear image. Brian can get new ones hooked up with an alarm system and -"

"We don't have it in the budget."

"Then let me do it."

Her lips quirked up devilishly. "Oh, you're going to hook it up?"

And it was his turn to shoot her a withering look. "Let me pay for it."

"Logan…."

"Please?" He held her gaze, stuck in a battle of wills with one of the most stubborn human beings he'd ever met.

"When's that election again?" Keith groused as he limped his way back towards his seat, unintentionally interrupting the stare-off. He seemed to notice that he had as he slid back into his seat. "What's wrong?"

Fine. She could be stubborn, so could he. "Office or our place, your call," Logan directed at Veronica and saw her stiffen a little at that.

"We don't need a security system at our place."

"What about the drunk Spring Breaker that just about broke down our door last year because he thought it was the place he'd rented?"

"That was one time."

"You're right. I think your office would benefit more from it, but hey, I don't get to make calls on that because I don't work there. I do live at our apartment, so….."

"You're an asshole."

There was less spite in her tone than the words themselves might have indicated and Logan smirked. He turned his attention to Keith as the waitress delivered their food. "Veronica mentioned you guys had a break in. I know a guy that does topnotch security for very reasonable rates."

"Very reasonable when you pay for it," she grumbled and he ignored her.

"It's not like the sheriff's department would respond even if an alarm were to go off at our office," Keith answered with a shrug, digging into his risotto.

"See?" Veronica pressed and Logan kept his focus on her father.

"Still, that alarm'll scare most thugs off from ransacking the place."

"Logan, while I appreciate -"

"Can we just focus on dinner?"

The snap caught him more off guard than he would have liked and Logan glanced over at the woman he loved. She was stressed. From the day, from the case, and from the conversation that they were in right then. Okay. He couldn't fix the first two, but the third he could handle.

"Yeah. Sure." He managed what he thought was a pretty convincing smile. "So, Riles tells me he thinks he can snag some Padres tickets next weekend. Anybody in?"

And that was that. The Mars clan was a stubborn one, and despite Veronica's affections, he was still somewhat on the outside of it. Any offer to contribute was still seen as charity, even if he just wanted to see the people he cared about safe.

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

Logan resisted the urge to ask about the case or push his opinion on Mars Investigations' dated security for the rest of dinner. Veronica did her best to pretend everything was normal, but Keith remained distant and irritable the entire meal. He paid for them and Logan bit his tongue, thanking him instead and said he'd give Riley the green light on the tickets.

He felt the long day and the evening weighing on him as they returned home, cleaned up the newest mess Pony had left of what looked like had been one of Veronica's scarves, and took him out. He wasn't the only one, though, and he circled around Veronica as she stripped her shirt over her head to start getting ready for bed. His touch was gentle and he pressed a kiss to the side of her head. She sighed, but leaned back and he took the invitation to let his kisses start to travel down to the crook of her neck, the apology for making her day even harder in each one. Finally she turned, draping her arms over his shoulders and her fingers teased at his hair. Those clear blue eyes pulled him in and her smile didn't look nearly as forced as it had been all evening. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," he answered softly and she tilted back, letting her hands slide across his shoulders and down his chest until her fingers wrapped in the fabric of his shirt. As she fell back against the bed, she pulled him with her. He leaned in to kiss her and she wrapped her legs around his middle. Logan braced himself with a hand on either side of her shoulders and he could feel her fingers pulling at his shirt, working at the buttons in a way that made him think they weren't going to last long. He smiled into the kiss and deepened it.

A loud pounding at the door startled them both out of their moment. Veronica released him reluctantly and started for her discarded shirt.

"I got it," Logan offered and received a pointed look for it. He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Out of the two of us, which one is still dressed?" He started down the hall before she could argue the logic.

"If it's that idiot from next door tell him he's never allowed to borrow our vacuum again after last time!" Veronica shouted after him and Logan felt his lips quirk up at that.

He reached the end of the hall to get his first look at the figure outside. He was hidden under a baggy windbreaker and a baseball cap, but it could be a guy that lived several units down. Martin? Marty maybe? Something. He'd caught a couple waves with him one early Saturday morning several weeks back. This guy was definitely tall enough.

Logan pried the door open a crack. "Hey, man—"

The figure finally looked up, giving Logan the first clear view of his face. Definitely not Marty. "Where is she?"

"I think you have the wrong apartment," Logan tried, watching the other man carefully. He was twitchy and aggravated like he was hyped up on something. Logan had been in a lot of fights over the years, but these days he liked to think that he knew the ones to avoid. Strangers showing up tripped out on something? Not a gamble he was interested in taking on his own porch.

"That bitch Mars! She thinks she can wreck my marriage?" he howled and tried to push past Logan into the apartment.

Logan shoved back, ready to slam the door in his face, but the would-be intruder didn't stumble as far as he'd hoped and swiped back at him. It felt like a punch to the gut and he loosed a frustrated breath. Okay. Apparently there was no avoiding it.

The intruder stepped back and Logan blinked hard as his eyes focused on the knife in his hand and he risked a glance down to his white dress shirt that was quickly turning red just below his ribs. Shit.

"Logan, move!" Veronica shouted and he turned to find her standing behind him, his Colt .45 in her surprisingly steady hands, and a determined look aimed directly at their assailant. He stumbled back to give her a chance to level the weapon for a clear shot if she needed it. Time to find out if that weapons training she had taken had taught her anything. "Cops are on their way. Don't—"

He moved and the shot went off, sending the man crumbling onto their front porch. Logan stared at him for half a beat, adrenaline still pumping hard, and turned back to see Veronica frozen in place. "Hey," he said softly. "You're okay. We're okay."

"He's the one that broke into our office. He was harassing his ex wife. How did he…?" She trailed off, her gaze fixing on him and she paled. "Logan?"

He glanced down and grimaced. Right. Amazing how singularly focused the brain could be in these situations. All at once he felt the adrenaline dissipate and everything pulsed dangerously. Veronica's arms were around him and she was doing her best to ease the inevitable drop to the floor so he could lean against the side of the couch. She stayed down there with him, fingers pulling his shirt away from the injury and he didn't like the barely contained panic etched onto her face. "Veronica," he breathed, her name coming out quieter than he'd intended.

"They're sending an ambulance too," she managed, her own voice trembling. "Okay. Just…" The pain spiked as she put pressure on the bleeding wound and the room pulsed again. "This was my case and he…" She squeezed her eyes closed and he saw tears escape. "I'm so sorry, Logan. I'm so sorry. You're going to be okay. I'm going to make sure you're okay."

He wasn't going to be conscious for long and she was spiraling. The last thing he wanted was for her to blame herself. He reached up clumsily, looking for her hand. "Hey. Not your fault."

She looked up at him and he could see the angry tears in her eyes, but he felt her free hand tighten around his. "You're going to be okay."

"I know."

"Logan?"

He swallowed hard, trying to force the response out, but he felt himself slipping under, Veronica's face fading slowly to black.

----------

He had clips of memories, fractured and scattered. Voices that he didn't recognize. Someone pushing something down over his nose and mouth, but air flowing easier once he stopped fighting it. Veronica's face. Those eyes. They were like an anchor against the riptide trying to drag him away from her.

Come back to me.

Always.

Logan came back to consciousness in what felt like disjointed steps, much like losing it. He wasn't even sure how many times he came back around or if every time that sterile smell filled his nose, the too-bright lights made him wince and want to go back to sleep, or the chill that couldn't be helped even by the thin blanket draped over his legs just felt like the first time. He finally pried his eyes open to find Veronica asleep in the chair next to his bed, bent at an awkward angle with her head resting on the thin mattress. Logan found his lips curling up ever so slightly as he flexed his fingers to find her hand holding onto his.

She stirred at the movement, mumbling sleepily and he squeezed her fingers in his. Veronica popped up with that, none of the stiffness she might have felt at the awkward sleeping arrangement showing as she flashed him a relieved smile. "Hey. You're awake."

His lips parted to answer, dry and cracking from the ventilator they must have had him on, and he found his throat equally rebellious. He had to clear his throat to force any sound out, and decided on important rather than direct response. "Love you," he rasped.

Her smile only broadened at that and she pulled his hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "How are you feeling?"

"'kay." Logan could feel himself fading already and he wasn't ready for that. He shifted a little and while the movement brought some pain - distant and certainly a survivable amount - it brought a little more focus with it too. He let his gaze drift over her from her rumpled t-shirt to the bags under her eyes and the messy ponytail she had her hair pulled back in. He swallowed hard to try his luck at coherent words again. "You been home?"

"Once. Caught a quick shower, made sure Pony knew we didn't abandon him. Mac took him to her place last night. Fair warning: we may never see our dog again."

He snorted a soft laugh and caught her gaze. Thankfully she seemed to understand the question even if he couldn't quite get it out. "Sneider - the guy that stabbed you - died. Lamb's had a field day with that."

Okay, that warranted a real attempt at speech. "He trying to get you on murder?"

"It's like you've dealt with a Lamb or something."

The sound he made this time was decidedly less amused than his response to her last joke. Between the two brothers they had managed to wrongfully accuse him of murder three times. Hard to forget.

"I guess you don't remember waking up when I was down at the station, huh?" He shook his head. "Dad said they gave him hell when he tried to get in to sit with you. Kept saying that he wasn't family so he couldn't come in. Apparently he got them told."

Logan frowned a little, drawing a blank where he knew he shouldn't. Maybe they had pushed another dose of painkillers or something. "Told what?"

"That you're family."

"Must have been a riot," he huffed.

Veronica looked confused for a moment. Then something seemed to click and he watched a lopsided smile tug into place. "You know, my dad has tells. They're tiny, easy to miss, but I know every one at this point, even when he's just telling the story." She reached forward, her touch gentle but firm as she made sure he was looking at her. "He meant it. Not sure when you won him over, but I think you finally did."

"Guess ya gotta keep me, huh?"

"Planning on it," Veronica said, her voice wavering just a little. "Just don't you leave me."

"Not going anywhere. 'Cept maybe to sleep," he mumbled, feeling his eyelids drooping.

"I'll be right here when you wake up."

She started to sit back in the chair and he made a small, irritable sound at that and reached up clumsily to catch her wrist. "You're tiny. You'll fit."

"On the bed?" He nodded. "Logan, I don't want to hurt you…."

"You won't."

She sniffed and he cracked an eye he hadn't realized had slid closed back open to find her staring back at him through frustrated tears. "This is my —"

"No," he cut her off. "You saved my life, just like you alway do." Logan tugged as hard as he could manage, which wasn't saying much at the moment. Her laugh was soft as she finally crawled onto the bed, able to fit when she laid on her side and an arm wrapped around his rather than draped over his middle. He settled back against his pillows with a satisfied smile. "See? Pint sized."

"Sure you're okay?"

He made a small sound of acknowledgement. Loving Veronica Mars would always be dangerous - sometimes for her, sometimes for him, and sometimes for them both. That had become clear a long time ago, but if it meant being close to her, if it meant spending the rest of his life with her, he had learned that any amount of pain was survivable because they came back to each other in the end. Always.

#Veronica Mars #Logan Echolls #VM fan fiction #VMfanfic #elizabethkween

15 notes · View notes

spring-emerald · 4 years

Text

monogram (4/4)

Part 1 2 3

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi / Moniwa Kaname

---

Moniwa grunts softly, squinting at the brightness hitting his eyes and rolls around the bed, wanting to sink further into the soft mattress and continue sleeping. His bed never felt this soft and he doesn’t want to part with it yet. He wraps the comforter around him and inhales the clean scent of it, missing the flowery smell of the fabric softener the laundry place he usually frequents use. He absentmindedly rubs a hand across his face to swipe at the itch he felt there and belatedly notice the lack of roughness of his glove.

He wants to let the thoughts about the whereabouts of his gloves go, but he can’t recall where he’d put it last night. He doesn’t even remember taking them off in the first place. And that lack of memory and certainty cause him to finally wake up fully and sit up on a bed that, now that he’s conscious, clearly doesn’t belong to him and looks around the room that is definitely not the one he has in his apartment.

Whose place is this, anyway? He tries to think back to yesterday’s events and finally bits and pieces come back, like how Ushijima had waited for him again, how he’d agreed to drinking last night with him… his eyes widen in horror.

The rush of panic jolts him out of the bed, and he sways as soon as he stands, almost losing his balance due to the sudden rush, but there are more important things because he can’t see his gloves anywhere. He’d been too dependent on it for the past few years, considers it his prized possession and a thing he doesn’t leave the house without. The panic of being parted from it in such an unfamiliar place makes him hits him. He brings his clutched hands in front of his chest, keeping it close in fear that someone might see, that someone had seen the letters on his palm, even though he’s obviously alone.

Which brings about another round of panicking because oh god, had Ushijima seen his hands? What if he’d seen and realized that Moniwa’s lied to him about the burn scars? Realized what Moniwa’s keeping from him? He’d been unusually curious about it. Which makes him think. Was he even the one who took off his gloves in the first place, or was it Ushijima who did, to abate his curiosity?

Moniwa crouches down, ignoring the blood rush and faint feeling at the sudden movement, willing himself to breathe, to calm down and not make his situation even messier. He clearly had been stupid to let his guard down, but he will berate himself about that later. Now, now he needs to find his gloves so he can leave immediately.

He doesn’t notice the door open, and he nearly jumps off his skin despite the soft, low voice who called his name.

“Are you alright?” Ushijima asks in concern.

“Please don’t come in.” Moniwa exclaims without looking at him. “Where are my gloves?” He clutches his hands in his chest, keeping it away from Ushijima’s sight. He’s breathing heavily, his heart is pounding like crazy and he’s feeling really faint. He’s a thread away from completely freaking out, and only getting his gloves back keeping him focused.

“Moniwa-”

“Where are my gloves?!”

Ushijima startles at the tone. “Inside the drawer,” he answers quickly. “Do you need-”

“I’m fine. Just… can you lea- can I be alone, please?”

It takes a few moments, but Moniwa hears the door close and as soon as it does, he dives at the drawer and snatched his gloves and hastily puts in on, scratching himself at the process. He stays there, backed in the corner by the bed and drawer and takes in deep breaths, willing himself to calm down enough for him to have the energy and capacity to leave.

He doesn’t want to go outside and see Ushijima, he’s not ready, but he has to if he wants to leave. Finally, he musters enough courage to stand and be done with it. If he doesn’t come out soon, Ushijima might just try to come in again, and he doesn’t really want that. He can’t.

He slowly opens the door and sighs with a small relief that Ushijima’s not waiting outside. He does find him pacing in the living room, and he stops when he sees Moniwa.

“I’m sorry about that.” Moniwa says in haste, avoiding Ushijima’s eyes. “Thanks for last night. I- I’ll leave now.” He rushes to the door but Ushijima’s in front of him in two strides, blocking his exit, and he almost whines because he’d been so close.

“I… Please… I made breakfast. At least eat.” Ushijima sounds so unsure, far cry from how he usually is.

Moniwa shakes his head, pointedly looking at the floor. “N-No. No need. I need to go,” he sidesteps, but finds himself blocked again, and this time, Ushijima’s stepped closer, his socked feet now almost directly in Moniwa’s line of vision.

He also sees a hand coming up to his face, but Ushijima must have seen him flinch because the long fingers curled on themselves before it can reach him.

However, the soft, pleading “Please, Moniwa. Please look at me,” does.

Maybe one day, Moniwa’s going to be immune to the way Ushijima is soft for him, but today is not that day.

Even though he knows he will regret it, he lifts his head and looks into Ushijima’s deep, olive eyes.

Suddenly, the overwhelming stress and panic brought by the day, the resentment he tries not to feel; the weight of the secret he’s been keeping; the affection he still has and cannot hide… culminates as unbidden tears that fall from his eyes.

---

Ushijima looks at Moniwa with wide eyes, rattled at the sudden outburst of emotion from him, wanting to wipe his tears, wanting to hug and comfort him. He does neither but takes Moniwa to the couch and makes him sit, while he hastily fetches a glass of water.

Moniwa is still sobbing when he comes back, and he hesitantly sits beside him and carefully smoothed a hand on Moniwa’s shaking back. His sobs dwindle down into sniffles, eventually, and he’s deemed it safe to offer the water, which Moniwa took.

“I’m sorry you had to see that” he says thickly.

Ushijima shakes his head, an unspoken ‘it’s alright’. It’s kind of painful to see Moniwa like this, especially after the years they haven’t had any contact. But just because that’s the case, he still wants to be someone Moniwa can feel safe to confide to. He tells him that as much.

All fight from Moniwa is gone, replaced with something akin to resigned acceptance. Perhaps it’s time to stop running away, and time to confront what has caused them to be in this predicament so they can both move on, in whichever direction this conversation will take them.

“I lied to you,” he starts. “About my hands. And my soulmate marks.”

Since it’s easier to show Ushijima than tell him, he peels his gloves off and while there is still hesitation, still the ingrained habit of keeping it hidden, he forces himself to bare it all and finally, finally reveals his palms to the very same person he said he’ll never show it to.

The soothing hand on his back stops and Ushijima inhales and stiffens beside him.

“My initials,” he whispers.

“It could be anyone,” Moniwa says, out of habit.

“No, that’s me.” Ushijima replies with conviction, as sure as his spike. Moniwa looks at him, then down to the hands that Ushijima also shows, palms-up.

He doesn’t see it a first, took a moment to find it, but in the middle of Ushijima’s large palm are letters.

Moniwa gasps, tears gathering in his eyes because his initials are staring right back at him.

“We’re…” he starts but cannot finish. He’s been denying it for so long despite wanting it to be true, but now it’s here, staring right in front of him, the possibility… the hope he doesn’t know he’s still harboring sparks, but he can’t. Not yet.

He takes the initiative, feeling braver than he’s ever been in his life and hovers his hand over Ushijima’s. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if it doesn’t burn. It’s cruel to have everything he wants, right in front of him only to have it pulled away at the very last moment.

Their palms finally kiss, the ‘W’ on top of ‘K’, and at first nothing happens. And Moniwa’s terrified at the thought that he’d needlessly suffered all this time, until a stinging pain shoots up coming from their connected palms, and travels over their arms, fire licking their nerves, warming up their whole bodies. It lasts only a few seconds, but it only needed that fleeting moment to confirm forever.

Moniwa cries for an entirely different reason. Ushijima finally takes him in his arms.

---

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ushijima can’t help but ask, once they settle down. He asks, even though he knows the answer.

“You know why I didn’t tell you.” Moniwa scoffs wetly. “You were starting to make your lifelong dream come true. I’m so happy for you and I wanted to be there for you, with you but,” he sniffs, fresh tears spilling across his cheeks. “You didn’t want a soulmate; you didn’t want me. And I couldn’t hold you back, can I? I wouldn’t do that you.” He starts sobbing again, and every shaky breath he takes stabs Ushijima’s heart, and he thinks that no amount of apology can make it better.

“I’m so sorry, Moniwa,” he still says, wiping the tears with the pads of his thumbs. Gods, how sorry he is for causing him that kind of pain. For causing them this kind of mess. For denying them time they could’ve been together, because he knows that now.

How wrong he was about how his soulmate would just hold him back, because he knows, without a sliver of doubt that everything would have been better if Moniwa had been there with him. He doesn’t regret his decision, would never regret volleyball, it’s part of who he is and what he will always be. But what he does regret, so, so much, are his words.

“I realized how wrong I was, how misguided I was about the notion of soulmates when I met Iwaizumi in the US when I visited my Dad.”

He tells him about how it was an unexpected meeting but a pleasant one. How easy and fun it had been to talk to someone familiar, their shared love for volleyball an obvious topic of conversation, until it eventually branched out to what their respective teammates and other people they know have been up to.

He already knows Oikawa’s in Argentina -had been for a few years. He’s also heard the rumor that the two are in a relationship, but it still came as a shock to him to learn that they are actual soulmates.

He recalls being so confused at the thought of them being far apart, and more importantly, how fine they seem to be in that situation. Both are clearly driven to follow their passions. It’s not something that’s holding them back, instead it’s a force that keeps them moving forward.

“I will never forget what he told me. After that, I did a lot of reflecting and I understood how mistaken I had been. How calloused I was to say and do that to my soulmate -to you.”

Moniwa’s just looking at him, hanging onto his every word. “What did he say?”

Ushijima stares deeply into his eyes, feeling some of his own tears gather. “He said that it didn’t matter that they’re apart that moment. Because being soulmates is the assurance that at the end of it all, once they’ve done what they both wanted to do and became who they wanted to be, they will always have each other.

“Moniwa, I want nothing more than to undo the hurt I’ve caused you for these past few years. I would if I could.” Ushijima gingerly takes his hands in his, and still the phantom feeling of the confirmation of their bond tingles Moniwa’s palms. “I didn’t realize it back then, but since we’ve lost contact, since you’ve been gone from my life, something had been missing. Now I know why. I guess a part of me already knew that you’re my soulmate even before I did, even before we had each other’s initials.”

He laces their fingers together and clasps Moniwa’s hands in his tightly as he brings it up to his lips and kiss it reverently. “But I can only make up for it now, and I will make it up to you however you want, for the rest of our lives, if you’ll allow me.”

Moniwa realizes he’s wrong then, about being immune to Ushijima being soft, because he doesn’t think he will ever be. And even if he miraculously does then, he knows he cannot, will not, deny this man anything. He leans down and gives Ushijima’s hands a kiss of his own.

“I want nothing more.”

-----

A few years later

“Ushijima-san,” the courtside reporter starts, “congratulations on a good game! How does it feel to play your last game, not just of the season, but your pro career?”

“Thank you. It’s still surreal, I’m still having mixed feelings about it, but as they say, all good things must come to an end, eventually. And I’m fortunate I’m able to do that in my own terms, so it’s still good, overall.”

“Fans are eager to know, what’s next for Ushijima Wakatoshi? Are you going to leave volleyball behind? Or…”

“Oh no,” he says with a shake of his head. “I mean, just because I’m not going to play pro anymore doesn’t mean I wouldn’t play at all. It’s something that I’d like to do for a long time, as long as I still can. If not, then something related to it. I do have offers back home, but they’re not my priority now.”

“What’s your top priority at the moment, then?”

“Well, going home, back to Japan, for starters. I got recently engaged with my soulmate, so planning our wedding takes precedence before anything else volleyball related.”

Behind them, the cacophonous shouts of congratulations from his teammates are heard, some having popped party poppers and champagne. Ushijima is all smiles at the camera as he shows off his engagement ring.

---

Back in Japan, Moniwa watches the interview, while seated comfortably under the kotatsu, the ring in his finger catching the light, but nothing is brighter than his wide smile.

#haikyuu!!#ushimoni #ushijima wakatoshi #moniwa kaname #hq fanfic

6 notes · View notes

silwenworld · 4 years

Photo

UNTIL THE LAST PETAL FALLS (Part 2 in the War Roses series) Summary: He could see the flowers floating before his eyes. A Bouquet. A single flower. Every time in different configuration but one thing was constant - the petals were falling away. Each time there were fewer and fewer petals attached to the stalk. And each time that happened, he could feel himself slipping further and further away.

Or: Captain Gold has a son to find and woman to come back to, and nothing short of dying will keep him from doing just that.

A continuation of the Rumbelle Showdown 2020 fic "The Dried Rose" Category: M

CHAPTER 6 [Ao3] [First Chapter]

There was something soothing in the sewing process - watching as the needle went up and down, puncturing the material time and time again.

Down.

It weaved the black thread, bringing two parts closer together up to the moment when they finally become one.

Up.

It slipped through a small loop forming a knot so the stitch wouldn't break.

All done.

Belle pulled hard, then bent down to bit on the thread, snapping it close to the knot, then admired her handiwork. At first glance, it was almost impossible to notice the changes, and she nodded to herself, proud.

Silently she stood up and approached the closet, making sure not to step on any of the loose boards. It was easy even in the low light - she had their place memorised long time ago. The floor hadn't squeaked, but the closet door did precisely that when she tried to open them.

Jumping slightly, she turned her head to the left, freezing in her movements, watching closely. Roy stirred on the bed but didn't wake up, and she let a breath that she didn't realise she was holding.

Cautiously, she put the jacket back on its hanger - the one closer to the wall - arranging it just as it had been before. It would not do if Roy caught her small scheme after all the trouble she had went with checking which of his garments he had tempered with and which he hadn't.

With a small smile, she carefully closed the door and on her tiptoes returned to bed, curling beside Roy.

It was long after the sunrise, but Gold still didn't know what to think. Waking up next to Belle in bed had been both bizarre and wonderful, but on top of it confusing.

When he had finally opened his eyes - an achievement on itself, considering they felt so heavy as if someone had glued them together - his head had been pounding so hard he had thought he might have thrown up any minute. That or because of the images that had been still fresh in his mind from the dream. Gold had been surprised he didn't find himself on the floor nor twisted in the bedsheets, and it took him a moment to realise just why. The mattress to his left had shifted, and he turned his head to find himself looking at Belle's blue eyes.

His lips parted in surprise.

"Good morning," she whispered, smiling slightly at his astonished look. Even with the swelled right eye, he still looked at least ten years younger with the way his hair was all tussled up and sticking in every direction. "How are you feeling?"

Gold groaned and hesitantly covered his face with his arm, wincing as it made contact with the bruising.

"As if a tank ran me down," he grumbled.

He stiffened when he felt a hand touch his hair before remembering that it was Belle's and not anybody else, cursing his reaction. He relaxed almost immediately, but she seemed to notice as the movement faltered for a second.

"Roy?"

"Hmm?" He still hadn't looked from under his arm.

"How much from yesterday do you remember?"

"Not much," Lair. He glanced from under his elbow. "Please tell me I didn't drag you to bed with me."

"I dragged myself if you insist on knowing," she answered his try at sidestepping the topic with a smile, but somehow he could tell she knew he hadn't told the truth.

He smiled slightly and grabbed her hand then brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. Roy more felt than saw Belle got closer to him and instinctively lifted his arm, letting her rest her head on his chest as he unconsciously started running small circles with his thumb over her shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Belle's voice sounded small and muffled by his shirt, but it wasn't hard to hear it. He couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut, though, tightening his hold on her shoulder at the same time.

"I'm f - "

"Please don't," she interrupted him lifting her head to look at him. "Please don't lie to me saying you're fine."

Silence.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to. Just... You're not alone in it."

He knew it to be the wrong decision. He was stalling or drawing attention from the problem at hand, but instead of answering honestly or staying silent, he twisted just enough to line his face with Belle's and crushed his lips against hers, hard. He could feel his body protesting, from the pain in his ribs to the way his split lip stung at the contact. But he didn't know what else to do, and he wanted to feel normal again so much it hurt a lot more than any of his physical wounds ever could.

When his kiss was rough and desperate, Belle's was soft and gentle. She kissed him back only after a second of surprise, but she didn't let it become messy on painful. He didn't stop when a spasm wrecked his calf, nor when his head began to feel as if someone had dropped an anvil on it.

He wanted to get lost in the feeling of having Belle in his arms, distract himself from everything that was going on, and she let him. Even if for only a little bit, because when she felt more than heard as he tried once again to stifle the hiss of pain, she gently put a hand on his chest. She didn't push him away, only put a little more pressure on it than just a normal touch, but it had the same effect.

Roy rested his forehead against hers, panting slightly, the small droplets of sweat forming on his forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered still not opening his eyes.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," she answered, tracing his stubbled cheek.

Gold laid back down with a sigh.

"Sorry for ruining in the morning."

"How about I'll go downstairs and bring us something back to eat, hmm?"

"Paracetamol?" He risked a look at her, bearly opening his eyes.

"Not the most healthy breakfast, but a good appetiser," she smiled, brushing his hear behind his ear.

Belle freed herself from his arms and swung her feet from the bed. She looked around for her shoes, finding them hidden almost fully under the bed. She must have kicked them there accidentally when she had gotten back to bed during the night.

Gold watched her from his spot on the bed, as she got ready and it took a couple of long minutes for his brain to finally catch up on what exactly he had found so weird about Belle's appearance. Still, when it had finally clicked, his eyes winded a little as his throat tightened.

She was wearing one of his shirts.

More than that - she had looked so natural in it that at first, his brain had thought it to be the most natural of things. He didn't know why seeing Belle in his clothes made him feel so emotional. Maybe it was because it looked like she didn't find them repelling and him by extension - the fact she had stayed a night with him when he had looked and acted like a total waste of air should be an indication enough, but somehow seeing her now made it more real.

He cleared his throat, willing the tightness to go away.

"You know, missus Lucas will skin me alive when she sees you?"

She turned around confused then giggled as she realised he was talking about the shirt and the time of the day.

"She likes you so she won't."

"I don't think we're talking about the same missus Lucas."

Belle rounded the bed and kissed him lightly, mindful of the broken lip.

"She will have to get through me first."

Widow Lucas wiped her hands on the apron, looking around the diner. It was a quiet morning with only a handful of people occupying the tables, nursing cups of coffee before the work. She nodded to herself, knowing the place would be empty in about twenty minutes or so and she would be able to do what she had set her mind to the moment she had seen her only tenant limp in from the back door.

She busied herself with cleaning the dishes until then nodding her goodbyes to the ones who had finished their meals and went on their way. Truth be told she hadn't seen Gold around for a couple of days. The first time had been only yesterday, and it only served as proving her suspicions that something had happened. He hadn't gone to work ever since the hearing - that Booth boy had brought some smaller works for the man over without giving away much information, and Ruby had insisted on carrying the meals for the Captain when Belle had been absent. Oh, and speaking of the young miss French, Widow Lucas hadn't been blind nor stupid not to see her sneaking around the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning that past couple of days. Also, her granddaughter, not being the subtle type, was more than enough for her to more or less seal her suspicions.

Gold didn't look good - not now, and not yesterday - and she didn't want to know how he did look like on the day that something had happened seeing the still lingering results. On both occasions, the man had seated himself in the farthest booth, away from the prying eyes, but the weak light wasn't enough to hide the bruises on his face or the knuckles.

It was more than apparent that he had been in the fight and lost it. The only consolation was that just two days ago widow Lucas had seen Keith Nottingham sneaking around the back alley with what clearly looked like a broken nose. Connecting the dots hadn't been hard after that.

When the last of the costumers had nodded his goodbyes, she riched under the counter.

He rolled up the leg of his trousers, wincing and biting down on his tongue before any louder noise could escape his mouth, then grimaced as his eyes fell upon the purple mess that was his right leg. Seeing how much it was bruised, it was no wonder why it hurt as it did. Gold was pretty sure that if he squinted his eyes, he would be able to notice the outline of a shoe nicely formed on his tibia.

Gritting his teeth, he firstly probed the limb with his fingers barely containing himself from crying out then reluctantly tried to stand up.

A bad decision it turned out to be, at least for the first try, as his leg had almost folded under him the moment he put his weight on it, and he would have fallen hard on the floor if he hadn't caught himself on the nightstand.

Stupid limb.

He took a shaky breath in and tried again. This time he had managed to stand up, but that was about it. Resigned, sweaty and out of breath, he sat back down. At least it wasn't broken - it had felt different from when it had been. Painful as hell, yes, but not even close to that time when he had tried to get out of bed while in Germany.

Gold reached towards the nightstand with one hand, producing the small jar of ointment form the drawer. He grimaced after unscrewing it, the smell not pleasant in the slightest, but it had been helpful before so he had to suffer through the inconveniences. He rubbed the salve into his painful limb, restraining himself from cursing aloud.

He had almost finished when the door suddenly creaked open and in his haste to pull down his pants leg, the jar slipped from his fingers and rolled away from him. He made a clumsy attempted to catch it but ended almost tumbling down from the bed instead.

And just like that, he could only watch as the jar rolled away from him and stopped at Belle's feet. She looked down startled at the item that had touched her foot, and it gave him enough time to hastily throw the blanket over his lap so it would cover his mangled leg.

Belle looked up from the jar to him, then back down. She fully stepped over the threshold and, after closing the door, she moved the food tray to her right hand before crouching down to pick up the salve with her left one.

Gold gulped, unable to meet her eyes as she put down the tray with the porridge and silently sat down next to him. The smell of the food suddenly made him want to gag, and the whole idea of eating anything totally abandoned him. He clenched his fists, watching with spite as they trembled, his mind jumping to yet another conclusion about his miserable self when suddenly almost all of them came to a halt.

Belle wrapped her arms around his torso, crushing him in a strong, firm embrace. Her head rested on his shoulder, and she didn't let go of him as at first, he stiffened then relaxed, melting into her. She held him as his shoulders started to tremble, when a shaky hand covered her arm and when his tears wetted her head.

"I'm broken, Belle." She heard him whisper against her hair.

"No, not broken," She answered firmly, holding him tighter. "Just chipped."

When he had finally made it down to the diner, he felt relieved. He knew he couldn't hide forever in his room, but between his leg hurting more than before and the unwillingness to face other people, it had been burdensome, to say the least.

Here he was - now almost former captain Gold, the man who before all of that had at least been respected and didn't like at most, now reduced to the laughing stock and a pushover. But at least he had forced himself to limp down the stairs for the second time and drink his coffee in what somewhat resembled peace, so he counted this as a victory.

He was just about to raise the cup to his lips when suddenly there was a loud bang as something connected with his table, making him jump and almost spill the coffee all over. Used to the panic attacks by now, he forced his heart to slow down and not show how thrown off balance the whole noise had made him, he turned to look for the source.

His eyes landed on what unmistakably was a golden handle of a cane, firmly planted on the table. With a scowl on his face, he glanced up to meet the unimpressed expression of missus Lucas, who without letting go of the cane, looked him dead in the eye.

"Something I can help you with, missus Lucas?" He asked, trying for an indifferent tone.

"This was my late husband's cane."

"All right..." His brows furrowed in confusion. Just where was the older woman going with this?

"Now it's yours," she said matter of factly.

What?

"I don't think I follow."

Missus Lucas grimaced. "I thought you a clever man, Captain, so don't make me rethink that."

She lifted the cane, flipped it, then put it fully on the table, crossing her arms when finished. Gold watched her do it, now even more confused, but there was some other emotion coming to the surface. He didn't make a move to take the cane.

"I won't take it."

"And why is that?"

"I don't need it."

Not entirely true and the woman didn't even bat an eye at the blatant lie.

"It cluttered my closet long enough. You can use it as either as door support, a tool to wack somebody or whatever, I don't care."

Gold's fingers twitched as if wanting to touch the item that now ley on a full display but he had caught himself in time to stop them. It was a beautiful thing - the shaft made of sleek, dark wood and the grip looked like made of gold with a distinctive, leafy pattern which made the captain briefly wonder how exactly could the late mister Lucas afford such piece.

The corner of Gold's mouth twitched. He knew exactly what the older woman was doing. He didn't make a move to take the cane, but he didn't push it away either. Widow Lucas humphed in approval then bend to pick up his empty plate.

"You should talk to someone, be that Belle or anyone really," she said, and he almost choked on his coffee yet again.

"About what?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "About bad coping mechanisms."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

She threw the towel over her shoulder and turned around on her heel without answering, leaving him gaping after her. As she heard the uneven steps accompanied by a tap of a familiar cane leaving the diner, widow Lucas smiled to herself. And when she walked back to clean the table, she had found one used cruth left behind, and her smirk winded.

He would have never say it aloud, but the cane was a blessing. It was just the perfect hight - which made him wonder if missus Lucas had done something to it beforehand because there was no way her husband had been the same size as he was - and thanks to that even after the short walk around his room his shoulder wasn't yet hurting. He was finally able to walk more or less in a proper way, clasping the grip in his left hand instead of the right one as he used to do when using the cruth. His injured shoulder had been killing him every time the pad of the crutch had dug into his armpit, but with that issue now gone, he had needed to relearn how to walk again. Surprisingly, it was quite easy, but still, it took him two days to get used to. At first, he had thought he looked ridiculous - a simple, old ex-soldier with too-long hair and cheep clothes parading around with a golden-handled cane, but Belle insisted that it was making him look distinguished in a way. She even commented that his jacket seemed to fit him more lately. Odd, considering he didn't remember eating that much more, but as he had looked in the mirror in the morning, he had to admit she had been right.

He was on his third round around the room, just about to rest as his mangled limb was giving him not so subtle signs that he should take it easy when there was a rap at the door. Gold tightened the grip on his cane and with a frown, made his way towards the sound. He wasn't expecting anybody - Belle was still at school, so who could that be?

Hesitantly, he pushed on the handle.

His eyes briefly winded as he recognised the young man standing on the threshold.

"Um, Captain Gold? I'm sorry to intrude - "

"You're not intruding, officer," he cut in. Graham Humbert smiled slightly, not minding the way he had been interrupted in the slightest. Gold was almost sure that there wasn't a thing in the world that could upset the other man.

"That's good to hear. Can I come in?"

"Be my guest," he didn't know what the officer would want, but either way, it was rude to keep the man standing on the corridor, and you didn't spend most of your life in the army not knowing how to hide your confusion.

"I'm going to take just a minute," Graham said while stepping in. He removed his cap and brushed back the stray lock of hair, that almost instantly had fallen back onto his forehead, making Gold smirk a little. "Can I ask you some questions, sir?"

"Am a suspected of anything?"

"No, no - of course not!" The man was quick to assure, chuckling nervously. "You see, there had been a break-in at Mr Booth's workshop yesterday."

"Was anybody hurt?" Gold asked frowning. A break-in? Yesterday? Odd, considering he had seen Marco just this morning and he hadn't said anything to him.

"August has a couple of bruises, but nothing serious."

Gold nodded to that, but his frown didn't disappear.

"We do have the men suspected in custody," Humbert continued, "and considering you do work at Marco's I wanted to ask if you had seen anyone suspicious in the area recently."

Gold shook his head.

"I was working from here for a couple of last days."

"May I ask why?"

"An accident," he answered.

Humbert nodded slowly, taking out his little notebook, flipping through the pages. Gold waited for the question about his appearance to arise, but nothing like that happened.

"Does the names Keith Nottingham and Haldor Frontland mean anything to you?"

His whole posture stilled but Humbert was still too busy with his notes to notice the small change in Gold's stance. Roy tightened his hold on the cane, his knuckles going white from the pressure as his mind jumped to the images of that night. What was going on here?

"Should they?" His tone was icy cold.

"They're the ones I got in custody and suspected of the break-in."

Gold didn't answer, but his hand started to tremble a little.

One day Gary will get that girl of yours, and when he gets tired of her, I'll have my way with her.

"Think again, Captain," Humbert raised his eyes from the notebook, interrupting Gold's thought. He could be mistaken, but he could swear small sparks were dancing in the younger man's eyes. "Are you really sure you haven't seen those men around the workshop?"

Gold gaped at him, unable to comprehend the officer's words. Was he expecting him to say yes? And if so, why?

"Maybe you have gone on the stroll in the area let's say yesterday's evening?" The man pushed on, and now Gold was pretty sure the sparks were there. Was this a ghost of a smile on Humbert's face?

Wait - was there a chance he knew what had happened on that day?

Gold relaxed just so slightly. Clever man.

"Now, that you mention it, I might have seen someone resembling those gentlemen."

"Splendid, that would match with other witnesses' reports, besides the one of Mr Booth's, of course. He did leave quite a good description of the culprits."

"Other witnesses?"

"Sorry, Captain," Humbert said, smiling while he put back the notebook into his pocket. "I can't reveal the sensitive information, but your landlady has very sharp eyes. Now, as that's cleared, I won't bother you again, sir. Good day."

The hat was back on the man's head, and he left without waiting to be escorted to the door. Gold watched him go, unable to say a thing. He stood rotten to the spot, trying to figure out what exactly had transpired in a matter of minutes.

Because it had seemed that the two men, who unmistakeably were even more waste of air than he was, would be now locked in jail, even if for a little while.

He limped to the window, looking down the street below, catching a glimpse of officer Humbert as he made his way down the road. As if feeling he was being watched, the younger man turned around. It was weird how he knew where to look at, and when catching Gold's eyes, he dipped his head with a smile.

What and odd man.

#once upon a time #rumbelle #rumbelle fanfiction #rumplestiltskin #Belle french #my fic #Fic: Until The last Petal Falls

5 notes · View notes