#I C A Big Reunion - Meat

[strider-headcanons-ahoy-blog]

Okay, so, a continuation of my last post, now focusing more on Bro in this AU. The two variations of him I’m working with are A) the version of him who is more canon-compliant and treated Dave poorly. Lil’ Cal was an influence and an issue, and I’m operating under the headcanon that Cal did affect Bro’s mental state. Not to the point of mind control, but to the point of heavy influence and possible disorientation. 

The other variation is B) a completely non-canon version of Bro who never abused Dave and did his damndest to be a good guardian, even if he may not have been the best or used the most orthodox methods at times. I’ll make a separate follow-up post for B, since this post is already huge enough as it is.

This is going to be less of a synopsis or in-depth investigation into Bro as a character and more my personal headcanon for how things could go in these situations, btw. Now, let’s play this shit on the nose and say version A is Meat and version B is Candy. (No epilogue content will be included in this post but I’m already taking pages out of Hussie’s book already, why stop now?)

With the MEAT route, Bro wakes up on Earth C minus Lil’ Cal and the influence that came with him. I personally think that Bro as a person already had the potential for cruelty and abusive behavior, given what we’ve seen of Dirk’s controlling, egotistical, and narcissistic nature in the comic. 

But Dirk also tried to keep those (and other) negative aspects of himself either toned down, in check, and generally acted with his friend’s best interest at Heart (wink nudge) for the most part. Bro, however, didn’t have the same damper on all of that, in no small part thanks to Cal exacerbating the issues. 

That being said, I don’t think Bro didn’t care for Dave. He IS still a Dirk, after all, and we know what sorts of extremes Dirk has gone to for the people he loves. But Bro’s love came out in extreme strictness and far too intense training. “Preparing” Dave so he could survive and getting lost in that focus to the point that it became an abusive extreme. 

(Okay enough character analysis, I said I wasn’t gonna get into that. On to the bullet point HCs.)

- Bro is not kind when he first comes back, and he’s extremely jumpy. Having Cal gone is both a blessing and a curse. No longer having that guiding, oppressive force in the back of his mind 24/7 leaves him feeling confused, aimless, unsure of what to do with himself, and his nerves are frayed. But in the same breath, he finds his sleep more restful, when his insomniac ass actually DOES sleep.

- Seeing both the younger Daves afraid of him brings up a whole mix of emotions. Anger, confusion, concern, grief that he can’t explain, shame, guilt. The defensive reactions of the other guardians and most of the kids only makes him more mixed up inside. He keeps his distance. 

- His memory is a bit blurry, a bit patchy, but it hasn’t failed him. It only takes a couple days of hard thinking and contemplation to piece together pretty much every reason why his kid (kids now, holy shit, he has two kids to- well, not take care of, and that burns at him) is afraid of him. Probably hates him. 

- He fucked up. He knows he fucked up. He hates that he fucked up so badly. He wishes he could take it back as much as a part of him insists that everything he did, he did so that Dave would survive the Game. A lot of inner conflict as his warped rationality starts to mend itself and clashes with beliefs he’s force fed himself (and been force fed) for much of his life. 

- Dirk approaches him first, for the sole purpose of telling Bro he’ll kill him if he goes anywhere near the Daves. Unfortunately, this doesn’t help Bro’s mental state much. Dirk Striders just don’t tend to get along with each other, after all. It doesn’t escalate into a fight, though. Bro tells Dirk he wasn’t planning on it before not so kindly telling the kid to piss off. Bro becomes more reclusive afterwards.

- Bro doesn’t go anywhere near the Daves. It’s Davesprite that goes near him, eventually. The kid is as scared as he is curious, and he sure as hell won’t admit it, but he is concerned. And he hates that he’s concerned, but. Well. Emotions are Frustrating and he wants to know why the most oppressive guy he’s ever met has suddenly stepped way off. 

- Talking to Bro is like getting water from a stone when you’re trying to open him up. It takes a lot of increasingly anxious prodding on Dave’s end before he manages to piece together a few things. Primarily that Bro has changed considerably, as much as he hasn’t, in part thanks to Cal’s absence. Dave think’s he’s hallucinating when Bro gives a slow, halting apology. An imperfect one, and not anything that would earn forgiveness by a long shot. But an actual, probably-not-ironic apology. 

- Davesprite is still pretty understandably nervous around Bro, but continues to seek him out now from time to time. Usually when it’s been a long time since Bro’s after image has hazarded his periphery. Bro doesn’t get why the kid would willingly go anywhere near him. After watching how the other guardians interact with the kids (from afar, naturally), it’s become even more starkly apparent to him how badly he fucked up with Dave. He doesn’t think he deserves Dave’s company, but he doesn’t chase him away either. They tend to sit on an out of the way park bench at night and drink sodas while they talk.

- Davesprite makes a habit of reporting all progress back to Dave. They’re keeping the meetings between themselves for now, for rightful fear of a shitstorm. Bro is in mild disbelief when both Daves show up for a meeting one night. Definitely uncomfortable, very cautious. He tries not to do any of the things he’s noticed that freak out Davesprite (raising his voice, going dead quiet + perfectly still, tapping his heel, etc) for both the kids’ sakes. 

- It becomes a more regular thing for both Daves to show up. They aren’t willing to forgive him, he definitely doesn’t expect them to (a part of him doesn’t even want it). The Daves don’t know what the hell they’re doing, and neither does Bro. They’re just kind of all. Going with it.

- Dirk nearly herniates when the Daves do finally tell him. Mostly wanting to know What The Hell they were going near that asshole for and checking that they’re both alright, they haven’t gotten into any strifes with him, right? Fuck, fuck, he’s gonna kill Bro again. The Daves manage to calm him down and do their best to explain (when they themselves don’t even fully understand what the hell’s going on). Dirk is still very suspicious and protective, but he loves and trusts his lil’ bros enough to not try and stop them. He may or may not tail them the next time he notices them sneaking out at night. Definitely doesn’t watch the meetings from within the trees like a creep. Definitely not. 

- Everyone is in major disbelief when the Daves actually allow (read: awkwardly kinda-sorta invite) Bro to join them for any kind of event. Bro is Extremely Uncomfortable the whole time, but he goes along with it because his kids asked, and that’s the sort of thing a. Good guardian does, right? Lots of side-eyes sent his way, but a miracle occurs and no fights break out. It’s a while before Bro’s invited to anything again, mostly because everyone had to recuperate after the first time. It’s a little less awkward the second time around. 

- Bro is still horrifically uncomfortable around groups of other people, but it slowly gets easier with time.He’s trying, honestly trying, to be better, even if he slips into bad habits or doesn’t know how sometimes. Mostly, he watches the other guardians and tries to learn, too prideful and awkward to just ask. 

- Mom-londe is the most likely to give him (unasked for but secretly appreciated) advice, even though she herself wasn’t guardian of the year. He plays it cool, but honestly appreciates it.

-  Bro’s still definitely not perfect, and what he did to Dave isn’t forgotten, or forgiven, but it seems like there’s something new to be built, maybe, in this new world.

[alicemitch09writes]

(un)loving miya atsumu

fourteen.

loving miya atsumu

Dear Atsumu,

I hate how much your face is the first thing that comes to mind when I think about the word - ‘happiness’ and ‘love’. Happiness, because it radiates off your bones, no matter the situation, in court when up against strong opponents, thwarting plays with a setter dump or when you’re up serving, or when pulling off nasty quicks with your brother or any other player, off court when you fight with Osamu over the last ice cream at the convenience store, when you share a stupid joke with your dad, or even when you’re with the people you care about. Love, because you do everything with just the right to too much amount of love, pouring your everything in it, pouring your heart in the things that make you happy may it be volleyball, Osamu, your family, Mika- not a single wasted opportunity to convey your love and happiness. Nobody compares the way you do.

You’ve set a standard for almost everything, which is why you expect nothing for the best to be at the receiving end of both happiness and love.

I hope you know that to me; you are the embodiment of both happiness and love. Because I really hate how you remain the embodiment of these two words I have difficulty expressing.

Your name literally translates to 'to devour' and in a sense, you are someone who happily, readily accepts love and happiness on a daily basis, allowing it to fill you up to the core and share it with everyone.

You are everything that is everything – the sun after a stormy day, the sunshine in my veins, the kiss of the wind against my skin, the light to my darkness, my sunflower. You are everything to me, and to you, I offer, my whole heart, which you don’t have to worry returning, because it’s yours. Always has been.

     - (Y/N)’s letter, 1 out of 13

"MIKA!" launching yourself at your big sister, engulfing in a hug, the two of you laughed. Breaking away, you held your older sister an arm's length, taking her in. "You're home! You're here!" The excitement was evident in your tone, a bit of confusion as well, at the joyful arrival of your big sister.

"Just thought I'd surprise you!"

Frowning slightly, you ask again. "But how about school?"

"I'm on break!"

"Alexander and Pien?"

"The family's currently on vacation in Spain," sensing another question coming, she furthers. "the parents were the ones who arranged this trip, because they know it would mean the world to me and I would never want to miss my little sister's big day."

The grin on your face softened, engulfing your sister into a hug again. "I'm just so happy you're here,"

"Me, too."

Despite everything that went down, before anything else in the world, this was your sister – your best friend by design. After months apart, talking to her virtually for a year, having her in person was such a delight. Seeing her home was probably the best graduation gift you could ask more.

Swaying into your hug, relishing in the feeling of her touch, Mika slowly opens her eyes, seeing the twins, finally remembering that they weren't alone.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry!" dropping the hug, she turns to the twins. "Atsumu, Osamu, hello!"

"Welcome back, Mika-nee," says Osamu.

"H-Hey Mika-nee," Atsumu stutters.

Something unsettled in your belly, coming at a screeching halt at the reunion. You could feel Osamu's eyes on you. Balling your hands into fists, you swallowed that ugly feeling, wearing a smile on.

"Shall we head inside?" Nobody seemed to notice the slight crack in your voice, which you were thankful for. Lowering your head, your eyes easily found your graduation pin, a reminder. 

Atsumu, however, seemed out of it. Even in the presence of his first love, he didn't seem the least happy to see her. In fact, he almost looked, dare you say, troubled.

While the three of you were taking off your shoes, the house filled with joyous noises from both families, you turned to the blond-dyed teen worriedly.

"Atsumu, are you alright?"

Is he alright? How was he supposed to feel? Mika was right there! Mika, the person he's been in love with since he was 9. Love, right? She's always been his standard, the perfect girl for some just as perfect as him. Boyfriend be damned. Mika was there. Mika was here. Shouldn't he be happy?

"Atsumu?" At the sound of your voice, he worked on a feeble smile, worrying you even more.

Snapping out of it, he quirks his lips up. Before you can say another word, his grandparents come barrelling down the hall to greet you three.

Atsumu's smile was worrying.

"How I've missed Japanese food!" Mika gushes at the table, eyes bright at the food on display – especially at the seafood, care of your uncle (of course).

Laughing, the twins' father turns to her. "What's wrong with Dutch food, Mika-chan?"

Aside from sushi, there was an assortment of dishes like tempura, sauteed vegetables, salad, grilled meat, roast beef and chicken, and two cakes. With a feast like this, calling for the occasion, it was enough to water anyone’s mouth.                                          

"It's alright, but kinda bland." they laugh at that.

You sat next to your sister, Kaoru on your other side. Across you sat the twins, Atsumu directly in front of you. Catching his eye, he quirked his lips up – smile seeming forced.

Your mom was all smiles, lifting her glass up. “Well now, let’s make a toast to our graduates!”

"To our bright and wonderful children!” your uncle seconds, joyfully, loudly. “To Atsumu, Osamu, and (Y/N)! Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Everyone was clinking their glasses against each other before digging in.

The adults were usually doing the talking, exchanging pleasantries about this and that, while the youngins were on a world of their own. It only made sense why the (extended) table was divided into two – young and old.

Lifting his gaze, Atsumu could see you chatting up with his grandparents, a pleasing and polite smile on your face. As his grandma was sharing about her newest hobby, you were wiping Kaoru’s face clean, much to the younger boy’s displeasure.

“Atsumu, I hear you’ve been scouted by a pro-league?”

Suddenly called by Mika, he was suddenly on the spot. Normally, he would preen, just to keep those bright (e/c) eyes on him. When in truth, he wants another pair of eyes on him.

“Oh, uh…yeah, that’s right.”

“Pfft, what kinda energy is that?” booms his dad’s voice, ringing throughout the room. “Give it more life, Atsumu!” Beside him, his mom pats her husband’s arm, smiling per usual, but had a loving look in her eyes.

“What team are you joining?”

“MSBY Black Jackals,” he replies, staring at his plate. “they’re based in Osaka.”

Atsumu still remembers the day you approached him, shared with him how a scout agent had approached you first, then asked for Atsumu’s contact information. He was so over the moon after you told him that.

“Oh! So it’s close by!”

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice, you don’t have to worry about university and just continue doing what you do best. I’m jealous.”

Atsumu works on a faint smile, happy to hear it.

You watched the whole exchange from the corner of your eye, taking a bite of sushi before washing it down with soda, swallowing down the lump in your throat as well.

“Nee-san,” something pat at the corners of your mouth, Kaoru grinning. “your mouth was messy!”

Smiling, you could only pat his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Kaoru.”

“And how about (Y/N)-chan?” the Miya’s grandmother asked you suddenly, bringing the attention to you.

Now at the center of attention, you set down your plate. “Um…I’ll be studying at Hiroshima University.”

“Hiroshima! That’s four hours away from here?” whines the twins’ mom, to which your uncle and mom shrugs easily.

“Well, it was her decision.”

“Waseda was also in her list, but she opted for Hiroshima University.”

Nearly choking on his drink, the twins’ father turns to you. “Wa-Waseda!?”

“Dad, calm down!” Atsumu berates, embarrassed. Beside him, Osamu just helps himself to another serving, handing his grandfather another, too.

“Don’t underestimate Waseda, Atsumu! That’s one of the most prestigious schools in Japan!”

Atsumu knows that very well, because you told them about it. Just that…

“Well, she didn’t pass.” Huffs your uncle, but goes on to explain rather excitedly. “So she went for the next big thing – Hiroshima University!”

“Dad, didn’t we already tell you this?” Osamu frowns, rice sticking to his cheek. “We also told you she passed the exams.”

Their dad deflated at that, scratching at his cheek. “A-Ah, eh…you know your old man, he’s getting old and his memory’s failing him.” Everyone in the table laughs, even young Kaoru!

“Still, Hiroshima’s a long way from here, (Y/N)-chan,” their grandfather turns to you. “Why not join Osamu at Kobe University? Or Atsumu in Osaka at Kansai University?”

Shrugging, you reached over to refill his glass. “I wanted a change of pace, I guess. Also,” sitting back, you brushed strands of hair behind your ear, exposing your conch piercing. “I had a bit of epiphany when we had our class excursion there.”

The adults smile at your words, Mika, most especially.

“Well, I know you’ll do well there which is why we want you to have this,” from his pocket, the twins’ grandfather produced three envelopes – for you, Osamu, and Atsumu. To say that the three of you were shocked would be an understatement. “Here,”

Ever so carefully, the three of you took the envelope with both hands.

“Go on, open it!” says their mom excitedly, recording with their phone.

“OH MY GOD MOM, YOU’RE EMBARRASSING US!”

“Open, open!” their grandmother clapped her hands excitedly, sharing the same sweet smile as her husband.

Glancing at each other, the three of you seemed to share the same idea.

“On three?”

Nod.

“One,”

“Two,”

“Three!”

Outside the window, the wind blew, sending a draft it in (L/N) household. One glance and you were greeted by a world painted in pink hues, blushes of nature come in falling petals – spring has come alright.

In your subdivision, there was only one cherry blossom tree that was planted in the playground just behind your house. At the epicentre of your neighbourhood, like a heartbeat that connected each household to its beating. When spring comes, it blooms, shedding off its petals, scattering against the wind everywhere – for everyone to see.

A chance to bring spring into their homes, to enjoy moments like these without having to worry about leaving. Like a hanami at home.

“Ohhh.”

“…we got money.”

“Granny, Gramps, thank you so much!”

“Use the money wisely now!”

“I’m jealous,” Mika tells you, watching the twins. “you three got to share moments like these, have been for years. But now,” her smile falters a bit. “you’re off on your separate ways. Will you be okay?”

Your big sister will always be your best friend, one deigned to you since you were born and because of blood. But having friends of your own was another story, especially worth noting just how quiet you can be, which is why when they moved to Hyogo and were introduced to the twins, it made her feel settled. The three of you were inseparable, always together, a bond she envied.

At this point in your life, there was no denying the consequences of growing up.

“We all have our own different dreams and ambitions, so it’s only normal that we chase after it.” Taking a sip of your drink, your eyes catch on Osamu. “Osamu’s not as ambitious as his brother, but he’s just as competitive – especially when it comes to his future and happiness.”

“True, but a shame that he’s not going pro like his brother, they would be such a team!”

It would, years of watching them grow together was enough of a testament. The most powerful twins in volleyball.

“They’ll always have volleyball and each other. But when it comes to happiness, that’s another story.” Recalling Osamu’s soft gaze on the finished onigiri he made, the tale he shared afterwards. “Osamu’s happiness in with cooking and food.”

Humming, Mika takes her own drink, sipping in.

“And the thing with Atsumu is that’s he’s always looking forward, never once settling on the past knowing that it will hold him back. In fact, he’s always looking ahead that he tends to forget what he’s doing in present time.”

“It sounds like he’s taken to heart your club motto, huh? ‘We don’t need memories’.”

It was such a powerful motto – moving and inspiring all at once. From the moment your eyes saw Inarizaki’s banner when you were young to the moment you became manager, that motto has stuck with you the most. You love that motto, love its implication and even took it by heart.

“We can’t always be ruled by our past after all.” You set your drink down. “How else are we going to move forward?”

Atsumu stared at the ceiling before him, having given up tossing and turning for the past few hours. After the third hour, he threw in the towel – he was restless, unable to fall asleep from everything that’s happened today. It’s as though he found himself at an impasse – unsure of what he’s been holding on to, unable to comprehend how he should feel with everything going on.

Mika was home. Feelings he’s had for her…surfaced. He thinks. Atsumu broke into a sigh, sitting up, he was a mess.

Suddenly, he heard rummaging from below him, muted light glowing from below.

“’Samu?” he called out.

“Ah, shit.” Osamu craned his head, meeting his eyes. “Sorry, ‘Tsumu. Did I wake you?”

Shaking his head, Atsumu noted that Osamu was dressed up. “Where’re you headed?”

“Out.” He pockets his phone and wallet away.

“By yourself?” When his brother shakes his head, Atsumu shifts from his spot, asking again. “With whom?”

“…with (Y/N).”

Atsumu was silent for a while, coming to realization how Osamu sneaks out a lot in the past. It shouldn’t be a question and should be easy to tell who he usually hung out with late at night.

“Can I come?”

Osamu’s blinked at that. Atsumu waits, hopes. He watches as his brother looks at his phone, then back to his brother. Eventually, he exhales through his nose, wearing a half-smile as he nods slowly.

“Yeah, come on.”

Smiling, Atsumu feels excited as he gets down from his bunk and quickly changes. Following his brother's lead, ever so quietly the twins trudge out of the house, careful not to make any loud noises (which honestly, they shouldn't even bother for everyone in their family were heavy sleepers), door closing shut behind him. It amazed Atsumu how his brother does it all with practiced eased.

Spring evening was chilly, biting at his skin, nipping his nose. Good thing he thought of putting on his hoodie.

Together, the twins head out their house, bypassing their gate and turn, towards the (L/N) house next door where a figure waited.

Dressed in an oversized hoodie that stopped by your mid thighs, gazing up at the night sky in thought, in waiting.

"Yo, (Y/N)."

Lowering your head, (e/c) eyes widened slightly once realizing your best friend didn't come alone. At this, Atsumu raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey, (Y/N). Mind if I tag along?"

You shrug easily, standing to your full height. "Sure, why not."

Spring night was cool and crisp, biting almost – remnants from winter’s past.

Three teens walk along their quiet neighbourhood, cruising along houses for some few blocks until reaching a brightly lit establishment just next to the main road.

Upon entering the store, the cashier – a smiling, tired-looking woman, nods at Osamu and you, eyes shining in familiarity. A recurrence, it seems. Despite the wee hours of the night, the stillness of the silence, bright lights flooded the establishment with a multitude of goods lined up, budget meals prepped and ready, everything seemed liked a sight for any customer.

Following after Osamu, the two cruised through the aisles, his brother grabbing some chips and a seasonal onigiri, the twins nearly towering over. Reaching the end, he felt a chill, realizing he was by the frozen section, with you eyeing the selection with pursed lips.

"Aren't you full from all the food we ate earlier?" Atsumu laughs, standing next to you.

"Lest you forget, Osamu has a black hole for a stomach. I'm on my period, so I have cravings." Saying this, you stare at the selection of ice cream.

"How about curfew?" You were such a stickler for rules, this was so new to him.

Shrugging, you picked up strawberry and chocolate brownie. "Osamu and I sometimes pass off as adults. Plus, this neighborhood tends to be complacent when it comes to curfew."

He smirks. "So you're using that to your advantage, huh? Smart girl."

Your only reply was bumping your shoulder against his, putting the strawberry ice cream in his hands. Which he decidedly takes.

Over your meals, the three of you share laugh, meals, and talks. Unable to help himself, and taking a page from his mother, Atsumu takes a selfie to commemorate the moment, uploading instantly to his social media.

To any other bystander – or whoever sees Atsumu’s selfie, it was nothing more than a teenage hang out with your childhood friend and brother. Rather picturesque of perfect innocence, measured smiles, occasional banter highlighted only by the lights of the sleepy convenience store, saturated by the spring evening.

A moment that sent a lurch down each of your hearts at the knowledge that moments like these were numbered. Caught up in the moment, Atsumu desperately wished for time to freeze, wishing his life was always like this.

Nostalgia filled the night, between childhood friends – like that year of silence meant nothing. It was enough to choke Atsumu, bring him to tears with how much he's missed this. Memories from his past painted into his present with bright hues and ink, he wanted them to stay, etched on his skin - unready to have them washed away when the morning comings.

Late-night snacks ended up with the twins sneaking their game console to the (L/N)'s household, talks continue even as you three were playing video games until the wee hours of the morrow, filled with more talks that piled conversation over conversation, talking as though they had a clue – leaving you all breaking into fits of silly laughter.

Just as you landed second in Mario Kart, Osamu conked out first.

"I swear, he sleeps like a fucking log," Atsumu says, watching you carefully set Osamu's head on your lap, patting his head gently.

Smiling softly, you carefully take the blanket you snuck and tucked him in, and yourself, too. Atsumu stood to turn off the console and the TV, filling the room in darkness. However, the glow from the moon outside was enough to illuminate the living room.

"You'll be heading off to Hiroshima, right?" he whispers, reaffirming the question thrown to you earlier that day, you nod. "Wow,” sitting next to you, on the edge of the sofa, he settles in. “big step."

"I figured that I'd like to open my horizon, have a new pace."

Atsumu remembered the peaceful look on your face when they had their class excursion there, smiling at the memory and a bit on the history of the city.

"Like a fresh new beginning, huh?"

Nodding, eyes beginning to droop, Atsumu carefully brings your head to his chest, falling back. "Like you...you'll be off to Osaka...for MSBY Black Jack'ls" you slur. "Osamu's staying here..."

Humming, he brushes away hair from your face, listening to your voice against Osamu's snores.

"You seem t'be doin' fine," he almost laughs at how thick your Kansai was when you were on the brink of sleep. "'ve always been." Taking an inhale, through your exhale you say, "you don't need me, Atsumu, you never have." and then you slipped off to sleep.

How he envied the friendship you had with Osamu, the one thing that connected you both in the first place. Taking your left hand in his, fingers slotting together, scarred fingers touching against each other, he noses at your forehead, lips a hairsbreadth away from your skin.

“Oh, you have no idea just how wrong you are, (Y/N).” lips pressed the lightest kiss, the moon and the stars as his witness. “I’ll always need you.”

You must've heard him in your sleep, because you were smiling, adorably. It was the last sight he saw before Atsumu slipped off, as well. 

Dawn broke out slowly, as it always did in Hyogo, light streaming, searching almost for signs of life in the living room. With the sun slowly making its way up, light follows upwards, eventually finding three bodies knocked out in the living room - sleeping rather awkwardly with two boys sandwiching a girl, peaceful, lost in silence. Somewhat, it was a familiar sight.

Waking up to the smell of breakfast, Atsumu woke with a start, blinking wearily as he took in his surroundings. Right, he snuck out with Osamu and stayed over at the (L/N)’s.

Lifting his head, a ghost of a smile found its way on his face when a mop of (h/c) came to view, your hand still in his. Strands of hair littered your face, which he quickly swept away, causing you to stir.

"Good morning, sleepyheads!" a cheery voice greeted from the kitchen. "Hope you like pancakes!"

Fresh out of bed, with her hair in a messy bun with an apron on was Mika, she looked pretty, adorable even. Atsumu should've been happy by the sight of this, captivated even. But he felt nothing.

At the mention of pancakes, Osamu sleepily lifts his head, in alert, eyes still pinched close. Slowly, you rose from Atsumu’s chest, having used it as a pillow last night, rubbing at your eyes.

“Mornin’ (Y/N),” he laughs.

Blinking your eyes open, with the sight of Atsumu in front of you, between his legs, realizing your sleeping position from last night, instantly your face heated, darkened. “A-Atsumu! A-Ah…Um…G-Good morning…” folding his legs back, he did a stretch, Osamu slowly coming to beside you. “Did you sleep well? Does your neck hurt? Your back?”

Your concern was honestly adorable – like your morning self, it made his heart warm.

“No worries, I slept great!”

True to his word, the rest of the morning went swimmingly over heaps of pancake and another selfie.

“I fear you’ll be taking after your mother in that aspect.”

“Wow, selfie whore.”

“SHUT IT, ‘SAMU!”

After breakfast, the twins had to head back home, to greet their grandparents while you started packing. When lunch came, the twins were back – freshly changed and all. At the sight of them, your mom couldn’t help gushing that ‘it takes me back!’ to which your uncle laughed at heartily, welcoming the boys in before they both left for work.

“Oi, Kaoru what’re you doing?” Osamu asked, watching how as your brother stood on a dining chair he grabbed, pushed it against the wall as he reached up, tying something by the window.

Squinting, you asked. “Is…that a teru teru bozu?”

“Yep!” he smiled, letting the doll face outside, getting another balled-up doll from his pocket. “Nee-san’s birthday’s in a few days, don’t want it to rain then!”

“Kaoru, aren’t you a little too old for superstitions?”

“I’m only 13!”

“Yes, but there’s no scientific proof that they prevent rain from coming. Plus, it’s spring, it’s not so hot of a season for rain to fall.”

Miffed by your explanation, he turned, nearly toppling over had he not righted himself quickly. “You don’t know that, nee-san!” Kaoru hopped off the chair, pouting at you.

“Yeah, what the brother boy said!” Atsumu seconded.

“Better safe than sorry!”

You could only sip on your drink in reply, hiding the smile. Osamu gave you a funny look, amused.

“Plus, it has to be sunny on nee-san’s birthday! We’re going to-“ before Kaoru could finish, Mika appeared, slapping a hand on his mouth.

“Hey, how about I make us pasta for lunch?”

Instantly, Kaoru’s face brightened. “Yay, pasta!”

“By the way, (Y/N),” she calls to you. “Reiki’s coming over with the pizza you like that his friend makes, the spinach one and garlic shrimp?”

At the mention of the aforementioned pizzas, your lips quickly quirk up. It was so hard to find those specific flavors around Kobe, the last time you had them was probably before Mika left. Thankfully, Reiki, being the social butterfly that he was, knew a lot of people.

“Your boyfriend has my many thanks,”

Mika laughs, making you realize a little too late on the words that left your mouth. Sliding your eyes to Atsumu, you were surprised to find that he seemed relatively fine, cordial even.

When Reiki came with the pizzas later, pasta ready and waiting, you all feasted, but not before Atsumu insisted on a selfie with everyone.

“I swear, you’re turning to Ma and it’s scaring me,” Osamu tells his brother with a disgusted frown.

“Watch your mouth, ‘Samu that’s still our Ma!” Atsumu angrily bites off his pizza. “Is it so wrong to capture moments frozen in time!?”

“Wow, that was a rather poetic way of saying it,” you noted, nodding your thanks at Reiki would gave you two slices each of the pizzas.

“Come on now, let’s not fight!” Reiki says calmly, undeterred by the twins. “Let’s just eat, yeah?”

A long-distance relationship seemed to work fine for your sister and Reiki. Clearly, distance makes the heart fonder with how lovey-dovey they seemed. A peek over at Atsumu, and you’d half-expect him to go batshit crazy. But no. If anything, he seemed perfectly fine.

“Atsumu, do you have a minute?”

As Atsumu walked off with your sister, you could only watch, lips quirking into a smile. For some reason, you felt fine with that, too.

It was probably when they first moved to Hyogo that Atsumu’s eyes fell to Mika, the ever-smiling, ever-kind oldest daughter. There were plenty of reasons to like her: she was pleasant, polite, pretty, smart, athletic, and kind. For years, Atsumu has always set her as his standard for his ideal woman, even assured himself that he was at her level (which shouldn’t be so hard, thanks to his genetics).

For the first time in the forever, he thought of finally confessing to her his feelings, that chance that he’s waiting for so long.

And yet, as the two enter the backyard, the door sliding shut behind him, Atsumu turns to Mika, with a question that’s been burning on to the back of his head for a while now.

"Why did you do it?"

"Huh?" Mika looks up in surprise, letting go of the door handle.

"Why'd you to talk to him?" Atsumu felt his patience running thin, anger building.

Mika's perfect face falls into confusion, exposing the cracks underneath. This was clearly not what she intended to talk about, but Atsumu didn’t care, he was leading this conversation now. Honestly, it feels like he’s finally seeing her for who she really is – for the first time, the rosy lenses he had of her were torn away.

Him, being their dad.

Pressing her lips together, a fist to her mouth, contemplating on her response. "...I just...I wanted..."

"A connection?" he finishes for her, an educated guess.

Mika nodded. "He's still my dad, you know? I just thought...I could get to know him..."

"And that hurt (Y/N) in the process," Atsumu threw out, rather impatiently, almost accusingly. "did you know that?"

Pain crosses over her face, bleeding through from her eyes down to the upturn of her lips, hands fisting on her chest.

"Maybe you wanted a relationship with him,” shaking his head, he thinks of you “but not (Y/N)." Of all his memories with you, one where he's caught your eyes on their dad, feeling his stomach twist at the longing in your eyes, hurt him the most. You may have had your uncle, but having your own father was a different thing. You told him that Mika was studying psychology, he couldn’t help but think how ironic that was.

"I'm not perfect, Atsumu."

Atsumu scoffed. "Don't I know that?"

He was an older sibling himself. Older by five minutes, he was still regarded as the oldest, has as much responsibility despite that minute difference.

"Older siblings aren't perfect," Mika says. "We make mistakes, we hurt people, even our siblings." She very clearly wanted to discuss something else, something that clearly wasn’t this. But now that Atsumu’s taken control, she felt herself lose rights.

"Did you tell him about our graduation?"

Mika fell silent, mouth pulled into a line.

That was enough of an answer.

Atsumu tried to imagine how the young you must have felt, the horrors you had to face, to witness, how your young, impressionable mind just paused and came to a screeching halt, to a horrible realization of how fucked up everything was now - he could only feel immeasurable pain, choking him. When that happened, did it also take away the life and spark in your eyes? The joy of life?

He loved his dad very much, his dad was one of the best men in his life who always encouraged him and Osamu to pursue their dreams, always at the frontline for them, and loved his whole family. Had he done what your dad did, he would also feel just as crushed. What he did was inexcusable – to you, to Mika, to your brother, to your mom. Scums like him didn't deserve a second chance.

"I can't believe you did that."

Without waiting for her to reply, Atsumu walked back inside the house, back to where his brother and you were.

Late at night, you stare up at the ceiling, hugging ‘Inari’ – the fox plushie given to you by the trouble children – close to your chest. Mind filled with thoughts, just swimming over you.

Earlier, Atsumu had walked back in the house, the same worrying smile from a few days ago, eyes losing its usual luster. Yet, he assured you that it was nothing, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Mika then walked back in the house, all smiles – but even she had a weary looking smile. Before you could approach her, Reiki rushed to her side and the two scurried to the kitchen. Thankfully, Kaoru, hadn’t picked up on this, busy trying to beat his two nii-sans in Smash.

Shifting your head to the side, to where Mika’s bed was, your sister was dead to the world, deep in her slumber – peaceful and calm. Lifting yourself from your bed, covers dropping, ever so carefully you dropped your feet to the cold floor. Still hugging Inari, you walked away from your bed and to one of the boxes, staring at the contents – some books, stationary.

Bending down, you dig through, careful not to make a sound. From the box, you pulled out a wooden picture frame, hand painted blue, with sunflowers sticking on the top left, a few petals on the upper and lower. And in frame was the photo of the Inarizaki Volleyball Club. It was taken the moment everyone returned from Tokyo. Smiling fondly, fingers smoothed over the sunflowers, taking in everyone’s smiles.

At the center of the photo was you, sandwiched between Atsumu and Osamu, wearing wide grins. When your juniors handed you the frame, you were so sure you’d break out then and there. But it didn’t end there, because Coach Kurosu – tears spilling down his face, gave you his gift, too. Gently setting Inari down, frame sitting next to him, you plucked a small, thick, black cloth.

Sitting crossed legged, you opened it up, smiling at the familiar kanji of the club’s motto.

‘We Don’t Need Memories’

“Such a powerful statement,” you whisper into the silence.

Kita once shared that he wasn’t a fan of the motto – being a man brought by the small things, on how doing the minimum on a daily basis is already enough of an assurance for any needless worries. Yet, it fires him up when he’s up with his team mates.

Coach Kurosu also mentioned, overly fond of the motto, that nothing should ever hold you back from the challenges that life will hurl at you.

Smoothing over the smooth kanji characters, a wave of memories rushed over you – first stepping into the gym, applying as manager the same time the twins had their try-outs, introducing yourself as manager before the twins engulfed you into a hug, seeing Aran again, meeting Kita and the rest of your seniors, meeting Suna, Ginjima, and the rest of the team, being there when the twins got their jerseys, their first official match, making your way to nationals, the twins debuting their dyed hairs, the incident, Kita’s captaincy, him berating you for resigning and convincing you to stay, the painful and cold second year, walking out during preliminaries, breaking down in the club room, having to tell Atsumu he was chosen for the Youth Camp, meeting Sho-chan at nationals, resigning only to be brought back, arcades with the trouble children, sunflowers given by the juniors on your birthday, training in Asano and Yoshimichi, training the new recruits, warmer days in the club, nationals with with Sho-chan, smacking Atsumu in the face, the retirement and turning over, graduation – so many great memories, good and bad. They were definitely the time of your life, if not, the greatest. A chapter that’s come to a close, but filled with so many turning points.

Patting the banner affectionately, a single tear slips down your face, landing on the banner, what a deep tangent you’ve found yourself in.

March 23, your birthday.

It fell on a Sunday, on a perfect sun shiny day, just as your family had expected.

On your birthday, it was decided that it would be spent at Sunflower Hill Park at Ono. Seeing as it was a special day, everyone had to dress their best – you included, being the birthday girl. Mika immediately busied herself prettying you up, even getting you to finally wear the dress that Kita had gifted you sometime back. It’s been gathering dust in the closet since he gave it, unsure on when to wear it.

“It’s just my birthday,” you grumbled, Mika immediately shushing you busily brushing your hair aside to work on your eyes, her face pinched into concentration.

“It’s not ‘just your birthday’, (Y/N).” she says, lighting brushing over your eyes. Setting down her eyeshadow palette, she picks up a blush set, instructing you to smile, exposing your dimples.

“19,” you say aloud, announcing to the world freely. “I’m at the peak of my adulthood.”

“You know, you’ve always been an adult all your life.” Mika teases, brush circling your dimples. “But that doesn’t mean you should be down on your birthday.”

“Studies show that it’s only natural to have birthday disappointments the older you get.” You rebuke, watching her frown cutely, setting her blush down, brandishing a mascara in her hand.

“And studies also show that you don’t always have to have that kind of mindset,” she rebukes back, twirling her mascara madly before taking out the wand. “Open your eyes and look up.”

Gulping, you do as she says, feeling the wand passing down your lashes.

“Birthday disappointments can also be stemmed from high expectations – either from childhood or from adolescence. And here’s the hard truth: you actually want to celebrate your birthday, but you just don’t know how to tell people.”

Capping her mascara, she instructs you to close your eyes, which you do, before you’re assaulted with a mist-like spray all over your face. When she tells you to open, you find yourself staring at yourself in the mirror – struck at the person staring back at you. Mika did a great job, highlighting your features, brightening your whole face, it was easy to see now the resemblance between you two.

“We’re not mind readers, (Y/N), we’re your family. And because we love you, we want to celebrate the day you came to bless our lives,” Mika smiles, smoothing your hair.

Helping you put on your dress, even lending you her sandals, she added some finishing touches like earrings and a sun brim hat.

“I look like those stereotypical animes shown in the summer.” You comment about your reflection in the mirror, to which Mika rolls her eyes at.

“Would you stop, you look beautiful!”

Taking her words with a grain of salt – seeing how pretty she was in her own dress, you smiled and the two of you walk out the room.

“Are you two done, now- Ah, how pretty!” coos your mother, pressing her hands to her mouth, eyes watering.

“Mom, you’re being dramatic-“

“My girls are so pretty! Especially the birthday girl!”

Beside you, Mika looks pleased with herself, especially at her work.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” says your mom, taking your face in her hands, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

Swallowing down hard, fighting off tears that have strangely formed, you smile at her. “Thanks mom.”

“Alright, let’s go down now! Everyone’s waiting for us!”

Anxiety rose up, heart in your chest as you three descended the stairs, where you could hear people chatting about in the living room. Everyone was there – your uncle, Kaoru, Reiki, the Miyas, even the twins. It was Atsumu who saw you first, doing a double take, taking you in.

And then his mom squealed at the sight of you. “Ah!!!!! (Y/N)-chan, you look so pretty!” everyone turns to you, much to your horror. “Happy birthday, sweet girl!” she says.

“…thank you, Auntie.” Your voice was quiet, raspy.

Being the center of attention, everyone’s smiles on you was unnerving.

Self-consciously, you duck under their gazes, face burning.

To your surprise, your family had long planned this together with the Miyas. What made it extra special was the fact that it was just days after the three of you graduated and of Mika’s return. An outing of two families, in a field of little suns spread across the field.

At the sight of tall, bright yellow and brown flowers, your eyes sparkled in child-like wonder. Sensing your excitement, Mika, with her uncle’s camera slung around her neck, hooked her arm around yours, giggling and pulling you further in the park, leaving Atsumu and the rest to follow after.

The adults were discussing amongst themselves, discussing where they should set up, Reiki happily stuck around them, ever ready to help around, while Kaoru was running off to join his sisters. Alone with his brother, Osamu elbows him.

"Is something wrong with you and Mika-nee?" Osamu asks him, feeling the breeze against his skin.

On the way to Ono, with the twins, you, Mika, and Reiki, in Reiki’s car, there was a noticeable avoidance between Atsumu and Mika. However, the two easily played it off. Mika was busy chatting up with her boyfriend, Atsumu looked over your shoulder, as you answered birthday greetings.

Even way before that, the two of them were masterful in their way of seeming fine, but when they interacted, it felt rather stiff.

Sighing, Atsumu’s eyes found Kaoru, who was giggling as Mika was getting you to pose in front of flowers, you, clearly embarrassed, tried to talk your way out of it.

"I confronted her about their dad," Atsumu grumbles, hands in his pocket. Eventually, you caved in your sister’s whims, posing demurely, before Kaoru cheered you to try other poses.

Osamu's eyes widened. "Are you an idiot!? Why would you-"

"Did you know that she also told him about our graduation?"

Osamu stopped at that, at its implication, their eyes going to the older (L/N) sister, showing the photos to you.

"Damn."

"I know. Pretty shitty of her."

"Wow, 'Tsumu badmouthing Mika-nee, that's new."

Scoffing, he lifted his head to meet his brother’s. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Shrugging easily, Osamu explains, as their parents walk southward into the park, where an open area for picnic was. "Almost a year ago, you were nothing but praises for her, wouldn’t shut up about her on and on and on.” Breathing out a laugh, he shakes his head when he adds. “Heck, even if she farted you'd think it was cute."

Atsumu's face wrinkles, cringes. "That was before."

“Still,” walking ahead, he stares his brother down, feeling a chill run down his spine. “you never let us forget. Never let (Y/N) forget that.”

Up ahead, the (L/N) siblings were soon joined by Reiki, who took the camera from Mika, opting to take photos of the siblings. (Y/N), who was sandwiched between her older and younger sibling, all smiles for the camera.

“A year ago, it was as though your mission was to make (Y/N) feel so shitty about yourself, all because of your stupid little crush. It took her finally deciding to leave for you to snap out of it.”

Swallowing thickly, Atsumu vaguely remembered that moment of panic, like something had clawed into his chest. Immediately, he feels a sense of shame – for everything he had done to you.

"'Tsumu, you realize that you never said you're sorry to (Y/N), right?"

The hardest pill to swallow was realizing that despite the year he’s had, devoted to making up to you, it just wasn’t enough. Actions may speak louder than words, but just saying those words were just as important. Especially because it was worth noting that, sometimes, Atsumu’s actions can be contradicting to his words and may confuse you. You, who’s suffered quietly all this time, who forced themselves to power through, who unselfishly put others before yourself.

“I’m way past that now,” determination was thick in his tone, strong in his words.

Osamu felt proud to see it, loved to see it. They were nearing their parents – who finally found a nice picnic spot, just right next to the playground hustle.

"Didn't you say that Mika-nee was your one true love?" he couldn’t help but say, egging on his brother, never letting him down on his fuck up.

Osamu nearly fell back as Atsumu tackled him, slapping a hand to his mouth, lest anyone heard it. "KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT, SHITTY 'SAMU!"

"Wasn't she though!?"

"I was a kid!" he reasoned out. "I didn't know shit!"

"Clearly still don't now!" Osamu yelled slapping his brother's hand away from his face.

"FUCK YOU!"

"Now, now, Atsumu, Osamu, no fighting on (Y/N)'s special day!" calls their dad, hands on his hips. Beside him was their mom, smiling as she took photos of the sunflowers all around them.

"Oh, oh, oh, sweetie, let's take a photo with the birthday girl!" hooking her arm around her husband's she didn't give him time to back out before dragging him with her, smiling sweetly at her sons. "And no fighting, Atsumu, Osamu, it's a special day!"

Speaking of special day, Atsumu’s eyes turned to the fields, where you were – feeling his heart settle at your familiar frame, your gentle expression as you gazed at the vibrant yellow sunflowers. He remembered that field trip when they were younger, remembered where your eyes were staring, dug through the display when no one was looking and snuck it in his bag, feeling giddy all over, remembered the smile that came to your face.

It was brighter than any of the sunflowers.

Under the clear blue skies, the sun was shining bright, smiling down on everyone – especially a particular group down at Ono Sunflower Hill Park, circling a girl dressed in white, balloons in hands, all wearing smiles as they sang to greet her.

Their singing echoed out in the field, the wind carrying on their love for the girl in the middle, the girl whose heart was just filled with love with everyone around her.

A simple white cake, decorated in the same flowers that surrounded them was presented to her, and a single candle stood alit, waiting.

When the singing dwindled down, the girl stared at her cake, closed her eyes, and then blew.

She was now 19.

What a lovely day to be loved, feel loved, and be celebrated by love.

Emboldened by his talk with Osamu, brought also by epiphany, Atsumu finds himself carefully approaching Mika.

“Mika-nee, can we talk?”

Reiki, having sensed the mood, excused himself, but not before kissing his girlfriend on the forehead and taking Kaoru with him away from the playground.

Squirming under his gaze, remembering his blow-up on her days before, she fixes him a pleading look. "Atsumu, look, I don't want to fight with you-"

"I'm not sorry for blowing up on you like that, Mika-nee.” He starts, meaning every word. “But I am sorry for intruding into your family business. I just care for (Y/N), she's..." he swallows thickly. "she's been through so much."

Mika’s expression softens, eyes shining. "You really care a great deal about (Y/N), huh?"

“Always have, always will.”

“I’m glad.”

Mika smiles sweetly at him, fiddling with her hands. “It’s just…he’s still my dad, what he did was unforgivable, but the idea of reconnecting with him,” she sniffles, wiping a tear. “how could I not? And then I thought, that maybe (Y/N) would be on board with the idea…” she shakes her head, laughing incredulously. “Clearly, I forgot that I can’t force it on her, can’t fix the trauma he did.” Her face pinches, pained and regret.

The old Atsumu would have rushed and comforted her, assured her that she did great. Emphasis on the old, the Atsumu now just stared, letting her wallow on her mistake.

Covering her face, she groaned into it, before fixing herself up, slapping her cheeks together. “Wooh! How embarrassing of me! Looks like I’ve got a long way to go!” she laughs. Atsumu can’t help but laugh with her.

Even now, her ability to smile through the pain, shoulder her burdens, amazes him. There was a reason he admired this young woman before him, but seeing her open up to her flaws made him admire her even more.

And then he felt it, the urge, something clawing at his chest, words that needed to be said.

“Mika-nee, actually,” the older girl looks up at him, waits patiently. “I…I like you.” Back when he was younger, he had envisioned the perfect confession – something almost like this, with the sun setting behind them, painting them in the afterglow. That was one of his two options for confessing, the other being in the letter he poured his heart in, with your help. “I liked you, Mika-nee.”

It feels freeing to finally say that, to let the person know how much they meant to them. Even if it were no longer the case.

She smiles, sweetly again. “I know.”

Atsumu looks up at her, surprised. Mika’s smile remains.

“E-Eh?”

“I received your letter,” his eyes widen, confusion crawling over. “(Y/N) snuck it into my things before I left for the Netherlands.”

You did that for him? You.

Looking back, his eyes could only widen, realizing that it had been during the incident. Atsumu is assaulted with guilt all over again, brought by your unselfishness, just unsure with what he could say.

“I always thought that it would be the two of you, you know? You three were thick as thieves, enough to rival the three musketeers. But you and (Y/N)? I always felt like there was a great bond between you two.”

“N-Nee-san…actually…I-“ Everything he did to you in the year following the incident came to mind, his self-hate rising, Mika deserved to know.

Instead, she gently shakes her head. “It’s not me you should be telling that to, Atsumu. It’s (Y/N).” taking his arm in her hand, she cups his chin, (e/c) eyes meeting his honey browns, smiling and squeezing on to him arm encouragingly. “Go.”

Coming to, he nods and quickly starts running. Before fully leaving the playground, Mika calls him. “Oh, and Atsumu? Thank you so much for your feelings!”

“Osamu,”

“Hm?”

“Remember when you told me about your first love?”

“…yeah.” He sighs, heavily. “The umeboshi to my onigiri.”

“That’s a funny analogy,” with your arm over his, you leaned against his shoulder as the two of you walked along the pat. “but very fitting for someone you love.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it off. What’s yours?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you look to the field.

“Ah, yes.” Osamu nods, following your gaze. “Sunflowers.”

Leaning against his arm, you murmur. “…he’s my sunflower, Osamu.”

Osamu doesn’t say anything for a while, watching how Kaoru and Reiki raced beside them. Two people missing from their group. “I know he is.”

“And you’re my chicken noodle soup.”

He snorts, looking down at you. “Why?”

“It’s my comfort food, remember? Also, you’re my best friend. You should feel honored.”

“Strange analogy you got there.” He waves at his grandparents, enjoying themselves watch the children play in the fountains.

“Not as strange as your umeboshi and onigiri,” you remind him, teasingly.

Rolling his eyes at that, he can’t deny the gentleness of your voice, its weight and wistfulness.

“Thanks for being my best friend, Osamu.”

Patting his hand over yours, he replies. “Always.”

Breaking away, you smile gratefully at him. He lets you walk off from him, taking a new path.

“Stop sounding like you’re about to die, (Y/N). S’not funny.”

Laughing, you could only tuck your hands behind you. “I’m just feeling nostalgic!”

“Where’re you going?”

“For a walk!”

“Geez, aren’t you tired of walking?”

“Nope,” and you walk further in the new path, Osamu watches you go, but doesn’t follow.

With all his heart, he wishes, for your birthday, all the best for you. Keeping his eyes on white, it slowly shrinks as you walk further and further, away and away, until you were out of sight.

Huffing and puffing, he looked around wildly, searching for (h/c) in a white dress. Atsumu almost cursed at how big of an area the park was, felt pathetic that he was winded out after some runs – he was a fucking athlete, god damn it! About to join a pro-fucking-league-

"Are you looking for someone?" a voice asked him, turning, Atsumu nearly sagged in relief when he found who he was looking for.

You.

"You," he says breathlessly, lips stretched into a wide smile.

Your face scrunched into a light frown, wondering, before producing a handkerchief in your hands, patting his sweaty face. “Have you been running around the park?”

“Nah, just now.” Your frown softens a bit. “Like I said, I was looking for you.”

Tilting your head to the side, confused, you asked. “Why?”

Atsumu opened his mouth, only to stop, realization getting the best of him. Shiiiiiiit.

Suddenly shy, he laughed it off, nervously, uncaring that people were looking at him funny. Concerned washed over your features, which warmed him from the inside, especially with you looking at him all pretty like that. But heck, even without the makeup, you were something else.

“Come on,” you opened a hand to him, an invitation.

Atsumu stared at it, at the scar on your middle finger. Placing his in yours, his larger hand over yours, the two of you began to walk hand-in-hand. You took him by the fields, deep in, as though to hide you amongst the flowers, to be one with them, to a secret place for you both.

For all his life, he couldn’t imagine having to miss out on the feeling, like everything he’s known his whole life is nothing compared to the bright, vibrant yellows and browns around him, in the girl dressed in white, leading him through. And he let you.

How is it that he’s never noticed? Why had he never thought of seeing you? It feels as though he’s led a life blind.

With a tug, the two of you exit the field and into a clearing, all Atsumu can focus on was your smile.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you laugh, walking a few steps to the path. “walking across a sunflower field, I mean.”

Atsumu can’t keep his eyes off your smile, even as the both of you sit on the grass, facing the famed 'Sunflower Tower' made of Mikage granite.

The two of you found yourselves in your little hideaway, with nothing but the sky, the sun, the flowers, and the tower, and of course, each other.

“Sounds like something fresh outta a fairy tale,”

Nodding, you fold your legs, drawing your knees near. “Sunflowers are quite tall, after all. Tall and tough flowers.”

“Like me?”

Laughing, your turn to him, staring at him for a while. “Maybe. Especially with your blond dye.”

At the mention of his hair, he runs a hand through it. “…I’m, uh, thinking of keeping it.”

“You should,” your eyes follow his hands carding through his hair, dark roots slowly showing through. “it’ll be your signature look.”

Running a hand through the back of his hair, he fists them there, unable to look away from you.

You.

Amazing, smart, patient, kind, selfless, beautiful you.

“(Y/N)…” your name came easy through his mouth.

Tilting your head, letting strands of hair slip off your shoulders, you parrot back, “Atsumu…”

Just when did everything seem to feel different between you two? And just how long had he missed the way you look bathed in the sunlight?

Fidgeting a little, Atsumu could feel his strength leave him, being at the receiving end of your gaze. However, looking up, he also draws strength from them.

“I, uh, I kept them,” at your frowned confusion, he shyly – oh so quietly, adds, “your letters.”

Immediately, your face burns, feeling goosebumps run all over your spine. “Ugh,” slapping your hands over your eyes, you wish you could also slap the cringe away. “why.”

Atsumu smiles, despite your apparent horror, shrugging easily.

“It’s a reminder, I guess. A reminder that someone actually liked me. Genuinely and truly. Thought of me. Appreciated me. Written and practically poured her heart out in paper, when it’s the fucking twenty first century. Living proof that someone did that for me, but I was the asshole who humiliated her for something so genuine and heartfelt.”

You would’ve argued then and there, having seen the many love letters he and his brother received from his fan club over the years. And yet, the only one he recognizes are yours.

“Atsumu,” words were failing you, so you just sighed. “that’s behind us now.”

But the look on his face wouldn’t go away, eyes darkening – a dangerous storm brewing, festering.

"You can't return my feelings,” you say kindly. “that's not your fault neither is it your problem."

"Y-Yeah, but I could at least try to-"

"Atsumu, stop. Just, stop.” Turning to him, you take his hand in yours – the one with a scar, fingers rubbing comfortingly. “Please.” You’ve thought about it for a while, a long while, it needed to be said. “I'm not going to force you to like me back, it's not right and it's just wrong. Just because I liked you doesn't mean you're obligated to return my feelings when you clearly don't like me like that. That's that."

"B-But-"

"Besides, I've already accepted it – that my feelings can't reach you." swallowing down it all - the heartache and pain, you lifted your gaze and offered a smile. "If all you're worried about is me forgiving you, rest assured that I have."

"But I don't deserve your forgiveness!" he all but screams, shocking you, his eyes were wet and filled with so much remorse, pain, helplessness, and regret. "I've been an ass to you, (Y/N)! I hurt you while you were already hurting," he remembered having to listen to your cries, muffled behind your hands, the forced smiles, the pained look in your eyes, your back turned to him, his panic of not being able to find you during practice. The realization of the distance between both of you because of him. "I walked around you even though you were breaking from the inside. I might as well be worse than your deadbeat, asshole of a father because I wasn't there for you. I hurt you just as he did! I failed you! I-I-"

A gentle hand touched his elbow, shaking him, he looks up, meeting your kind (e/c) gaze. And that smile, that same kind smile that stretched to your eyes, reflecting an oh so loving gaze he knew he didn't deserve. Even without saying a word, you understood everything he wanted to say, all the sorries that's been resting on his tongue, heavy with the weight of his sins, of the burdens of hurting you, of the love he's had and continue to have for you.

He didn't deserve you.

You didn't deserve him.

But you both loved each other just as much.

"(Y-Y/N)," his voice was barely a whisper, wet and croaking. "I'm so sorry...!"

Enveloping you into a hug, he cries into your shoulder, repeatedly saying “I’m sorry” over and over again.

And you just hold him, caressing his head with your other hand.

“I’ll always love you, Atsumu,” your confession just tore at him, tears leaking more. “you will always be my first love, and that will never change.”

Atsumu hugs you tighter, cries harder. “I love you, too.”

When you let go, there was a smile on your face – a radiant, bright, reflected in your eyes that it brightened up your whole face. Like a sunflower greeting the sun, Atsumu found himself smiling, too. Released from the embrace, in his eyes, he feels his heart fill with a bittersweet sense of warmth and twinge.

Despite it all, it still felt good. It felt really good. Talking to you, settling things with you, loving you – it felt right.

Certain people come into our lives whether we like it or not, and you were no exception.

Sadly, just because you came into their life doesn’t automatically guarantee that they’ll stay with you forever. You can only have them for a time.

One of them may end up as your first love, but it's not guaranteed that they will be your last. They'll be just that - your first love, the first person you offered your heart to, but not the person who gets to keep it.

You were his forever person, the first love he realized too late.

end.

[hansolmates]

(secret) lovers | m

summary; the (not) best friends 2 lovers spin-off where jungkook and you are trying to hide your relationship from his old best friend  pairing; jungkook x reader (f) genre/warnings; established relationship, jiyu is now an old friend and mc went to high school w them, weeb!koo, jk n mc be kinda stanky bc they’re only going to this party for the free booze, soft dom!mc, switch!koo, whiny koo, mc calls jk a slut, cockwarming, gets really soft n’loving at the end, heavy use of the pet name [redacted] i really think this couple is meant to be diabolically dumb together w/c; 2.7k a/n; this couple is really out here living rent free in my mind. jk, mc and jiyu really just are that thruple that i love to hate and hate to love. hope u enjoy this lil spin off! 

[series masterlist]

“You made it!” 

Jiyu flings her hands out, knocking both your heads with hers in the middle in a surprisingly strong hug. It’s a complete episode of déjà vu, from the way her body smells like the peach lotion she used after gym class to the shade of coral lipgloss. From the corner of your eye, you can see the caramel brunette’s tiny face is inching closer towards your ride, her head tucking in the crook of his neck. 

“Jiyu,” you beam. You’re the first to speak, the first to dip their toe in the water. “You look great!” 

“Thank you!” she pulls away, popping her hip against the doorway. The silky material of her coverup gleams in the sunlight, the silvery material showing off the silhouette of her bikini-clad body. Despite the fact that you’re the one who compliments Jiyu, her gaze floats over to the person next to you, “what a coincidence you two came at the same time and—oh my, and where are my manners! Come in, come in!” 

She moves away from the door, revealing an ornate lobby and two twin stairwells. You can’t help but light up at the beautiful crystal chandelier, flecks of pink and blue flickering in your eyes.  Further down the hallway you spot open glass doors that lead to a large backyard that overlooks the lake. Some people are already sitting by the dock, lounging about with drinks and happy smiles on their faces. 

“Actually,” Oh, he speaks. You think with a small smile on your face, side eyeing the man of the minute, “I forgot the rest of my luggage. We’ll meet you inside.” 

“Okay!” Jiyu smiles, “I’ll make you guys some drinks.” 

As soon as the door shuts, Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend for three years blurts out, “She still has a crush on me.” 

You snort, taking off the duffle bag that’s hiding behind your back. Continuing to stand awkwardly at the front door, you prepare yourself to console your boyfriend’s worries. “She still has heart-eyes for you, Koo,” you tease, pinching his side. 

His eyes are big and swimming with guilt, “We should tell her.” 

“Oh, baby. We can’t break her heart this weekend.” 

“But love, it’s her birthday.” 

“Exactly,” you chirp, bumping your head against his arm, “can’t break her heart on her birthday.” 

Jiyu is an old high school friend. Class president, straight As, and even vied for prom queen. The only thing she wasn’t able to obtain throughout her high school years was Jeon Jungkook, the object of her affections. They were best friends in elementary school, eventually turning into distant friends as their interests changed and they got older. Yet, Jiyu still tried to insert herself into Jungkook’s life. Back in high school it was surely cute, the way she’d pine from the back of the room and place anonymous love letters in his locker, but Jungkook wasn’t interested and avoided any of her advances. Fast forward ten years later and it seems like old flames never die out. 

The meetups with Jiyu have been scarce since college and only in large groups. As former class president, she decided to hold a little reunion for her old friends, taking advantage of her stellar job benefits. A weekend in the woods, perfectly balmy and far away from the city. 

“I don’t wanna lie,” Jungkook nearly whines, pink lips warbling at your inability to budge. 

“Mm,” you hum, tracing the fingers across the seam of his back pocket. His boardshorts hide nothing, and you curl your fingers around the swell of his plump bum, “be good for me and tell a little white lie, will you?” 

Jeon Jungkook, former President of the Anime Club, prom king candidate and your favorite nerd in the entire world. 

A teeny tiny lie won’t hurt anyone. After all, you haven’t seen your high school buddies in literal years, and they wouldn’t dare bother to make a fuss about your relationship. In fact, they don’t know of your relationship with Jungkook. The two of you reconnected randomly, some spontaneous holiday party Kim Seokjin is always inclined to throw. You barely made eye contact the first two hours into it, not really wanting to go back to the hellhole that was your late teenage years. Nevertheless, by the end of the night the two of you couldn’t help yourself. 

As you look around the room with utmost confidence, the two of you have made the finest glow up by far. At first you wanted to keep the white lie to save face, you don’t owe anyone an explanation as to how you and the President of the Anime Club hooked up. However, you’re starting to enjoy the ruse. 

Jungkook’s sitting on the other side of the backyard, looking absolutely delicious as he sips on whatever fruity cocktail he created. Judging from yours, you have a feeling his drink probably consists of 95% orange juice and 5% alcohol. 

Jiyu and him are sitting in the large netted hammock, swinging lightly. Gravity is doing its thing, and Jiyu is practically laying on top of Jungkook’s lap, her body pooling to where his meets in the middle. As soon as his thigh touches hers, his eyes flicker to you in panic. He’s shirtless, only with a pair of mid-cut shorts to protect him. The skin that touches him probably burns. 

You wink and wave him away, assuring him it’s fine. Pretending to flip your hair, you turn back to the conversation you’ve been ignoring for the past five minutes. “Man, Jungkook’s so sexy,” Im Nayeon cooes, looking longingly at Jungkook’s form. 

“Jiyu’s so lucky,” Rina eggs on, taking another shot from the tray (a tray for herself, you might add.) 

“Do you think Jiyu’s gonna get some birthday sex tonight?” 

Nayeon snorts, covering her flared nostrils with her hand. That hand eventually loops around your thigh, eagerly pushing you two together by pressing on the meat of your bare skin. “If she’s lucky! Besides, we all know Jungkook had that big crush on you junior year!” 

Her pretty bunny teeth tease you, and you can’t help but smile back in return. “What do you mean, he really liked me?” you ask innocently. 

“Oh yeah! Drew so many little pictures of you in the margins. Little anime versions of you in his favorite outfits.” Of course, you know about Jungkook’s old crush on you. He’s mentioned it in passing, paired with an adorable blush on his cheeks. Hearing it from Nayeon, the shameless grin on her lips and the ease of champagne on her breath is much more entertaining. “Rina, do you remember when Jungkook set up her desk with rose petals and chocolate in a little heart? And then in the morning the janitor sweeped it up? He was so sad!” 

“Yes! I really felt for him,” Rina pouted. 

“Oh, poor baby,” you didn’t know that bit of information. You put a hand over your heart, watching as Jungkook shares a drink with his old friend Kim Mingyu. He looks so different, yet all the same since you’ve been acquaintances in high school. He carries his own weight now, an air of confidence that he’s finally reached over time.  

“Definitely not a baby anymore,” Rina scoffs. She clicks her tongue back to where Jungkook is seated. 

The sun is doing wonders for him, highlighting every crevice of where his biceps curl and twist as he lifts his hand in another drink. Their side of the lawn is doing a toast. For what, you don’t know. You do know however, that Jiyu is trying very hard to cheer right over Jungkook’s thighs, spilling some liquid over his knees. You smirk when Jiyu sends him an apologetic grin, dabbing a napkin up and across his thighs, far away from the wet spot. 

Jungkook, the poor guy, discreetly shoves her off. He brushes his hands and gets up, letting Jiyu fall back in the hammock all by herself. Avoiding the teasing gazes of his friends, he looks into the lake, hiding his blush. 

Still a baby, you think. Your baby. 

“Jiyu was practically sitting in your lap, baby boy,” you card your hand through his dark locks, fresh and shiny from the shower. The feeling is soothing to Jungkook’s scalp until you tug, arching his neck towards your lips and twisting, “did you like that,” you mumble into his Adam’s apple, “my little slut?” 

“N-no! Never, ohgodnever—” Jungkook is sweating, fat beads rolling down his hairline and glistening across his face. His fingers are practically phasing through your skin, the crescents of his fingernails sinking into the swell of your bottom. 

You clench around his dick, your soft folds urging Jungkook closer to his release. But he knows better not to move, and instead shudders from the ministrations, breaking apart from you to dip his head into your chest. His nose pokes at the bouncy flesh, nuzzling into your breast like the softest pillow. 

“Sh-shit, love,” he cries into your skin, “you feel so warm n’soft.” 

“You need to be quiet, baby,” you murmur, playing with the curls that hang around the nape of his neck, “unless—you want someone to hear? My little slut wants everyone to hear that I’m fucking you?” 

“Mm, no,” you grin at his honest reaction, and you can feel his neck heating up at the thought. Your fingers make their way, finally ending towards the apples of his cheeks. You squish lightly, loving the way his tanned skin puffs under your fingers. “I’m—ah—not a slut. I just really love you, only you. Really wanted to hold you in my lap today and show you off,” he whimpers at the unconscious clench of your folds, “just uh—slut for you, love.” 

You giggle, tightening your thighs around your boyfriend’s tiny waist. Your other hands trail down to the ridges of his abdomen, where you two are connected. You absolutely love the way your thighs wrap around his lean waist. 

Jiyu split the floors by girls and boys, as if you’re still in high school. It took forever for everyone to fall asleep, but you managed to sneak away with your bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. Call yourself needy, but you couldn’t imagine yourself falling asleep with at least one good night kiss. Jungkook was ten steps ahead of you. Your boyfriend was already naked when you arrived, pumping his cock across the bed and getting himself ready for you. His eyes instantly zeroed in on you in his shirt, the black material hanging off your shoulder and begging to be pulled away by his teeth. 

“If I crawled in your lap today,” you murmur into his shoulder, “our whole secret would’ve been thrown out the window.” 

“I wouldn’t have minded, even if Jiyu got hurt,” Jungkook admits, running his hands up and down your back, “I wanna marry you, y’know.” 

You freeze in your ministrations, suddenly feeling the room go cold. Not in an unpleasant way, but the room freezes, the blue-white light of the moon igniting the seriousness in Jungkook’s gaze. You force yourself to stay on his lap, let his cock settle between your folds. The juices of your coupling are dripping down each other’s legs, cooling at your thighs and onto the white blankets. 

“You wanna marry me?” you echo, running your thumbs across his shiny lips. 

Of course, you’re at that age. Everyone around you is getting married, heck many people your age are already in the middle of creating a family, going on vacations to Disney and picnics in the playground. And yes, you also have thought about marrying Jungkook, he’s the only man you can picture marrying. Yet, hearing it out loud and from him only further fuels your desire to make these thoughts a reality. 

He kisses your thumbs, lips smushing against the pads. “Of course I do, love. You’re it for me.” 

You relinquish, slowly pulling yourself off of him. He’s still hard as you untack yourself, his member slapping against his belly button as he watches you in confusion. You make a show of fluffing up the pillows, arching your back and wiggling your ass as you make yourself comfortable to lay on your back. 

“Show me, baby,” you spread your legs for him, gesturing for him to come closer with a curl of your finger, “show me how much you want to marry me.” 

Jungkook smirks, hands immediately pumping with a squelching sound resulting from yours and his combined arousal. You love it when Jungkook takes the lead, just as much as you do. It makes you feel like a pillow princess, especially when you feel lovey sex is on the way. “Will you be quiet? Just like you tried to make me quiet?” he rasps, wrapping a hand around your waist to arch you up. 

“Depends on how good you are.” 

The head of his dick rubs against your clit, slapping lightly at the shiny skin. You both moan when he finally gives you what you both need. As soon as the tip of his dick sinks down, you feel like you’ve both hit home. It doesn’t take long for him to find his pace, naturally throwing your leg over his shoulder for added leverage. 

“Oh—fuck, baby,” you tug at his hair, pulling him in for a wet kiss. You don’t care that you’re slobbering all over him, the bed creaking and squeaking against his minstraitions. “I—uh, you feel so deep—yes!” 

“When we’re married I’ll fuck you every day like this, love,” he whispers between your lips, thrusting in a particularly sensitive spot that has you arching your back and pulling your chest to his, “I—ugh, I love you so much.” 

“Love you. Love youlovelove—ah! Kook, I’m—” 

The two of you don’t spare any time, the sun will eventually rise and you’ll be back to playing strangers. Jungkook pounds you into the mattress, nails you with enough cum for you to last the next day without having to sneak into each other’s room like horny teenagers. The roughness is smoothed out by love and bliss, eager at the thought of going home and anticipating a permanent life together. 

Five minutes later, you’re starting to feel a little too sticky. “Ohmygod—I need to fucking pee,” you pull yourself away from Jungkook’s sweaty body, palming around for your t-shirt.

“Just pee on the bed,” Jungkook grins. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” you make a face, “nasty.” 

“You like that I’m nasty.” 

“Yeah yeah.” 

With one last kiss, you skip away from his bedroom and close the door behind you. Unfortunately, as soon as you take five steps in the direction of the bathroom, somebody emerges from the shadows. 

“Holy shit, Jiyu,” you put a hand on your heart, eyes widening at her peeking in from the hallway. “You scared me.” 

“I’m so sorry,” she frowns, squinting her eyes to make you out in the dark. It’s easier to see her in her white slip, a thin chiffon material that barely covers her thighs. 

You don’t question why she’s out in the hallway in really pretty lingerie, or why she’s on the boy’s side of the house. So much for being discreet. Then again, there must be an ulterior motive for her if she’s already here, five feet away from Jungkook’s room. You wouldn’t have been caught if she hadn’t been so sneaky. (Well, not so sneaky. You got to him first.) You smell like sweat, arousal, and Jungkook. The shirt you’re wearing feels far too short and the cum in your panties feels tacky and gooey. You feel like a teenager being caught smoking. 

“Why?” Jiyu’s voice suddenly sounds as dark as the early morning, no sign of the sun. 

“Why what?” you answer, furrowing your brows at the sudden change in demeanor. 

“Why?” she hisses, eyes wide with pain and confusion, “why Jungkook?” 

You frown, not liking her attitude. Did she think it was a contest to who would fuck Jungkook first? Did she think she was being slick, sneaking away into a bedroom she has no business being in, even if he was single? You could laugh. So despite your height you steel yourself, looking at Jiyu straight in the eye. 

“Because Jungkook’s mine, and I’m marrying him.” 

As you pad down the hallway as fast as you can, you send Jungkook a quick text. 

[5:44AM] love: pack it up. Plan b go fake a fever we gotta go lol

[petechicahgo41]

So my Sim and his wife are enjoying their 2nd wedding anniversary by having a big blowout bash at the Stargazer Lounge with the sparkling lights of San Myshuno below them.

Over 50 guests were invited (48 showed). Dancing, karaoke, standup comedy and a DJ booth are but some of the activities that we could enjoy at the new Stargazer Lounge. Also, they have a full bar available to satisfy your imbibements. Plenty of lounge seating to catch up with friends or hang out with your date or SO.

But that's not all! the Stargazer also has a large swimming pool perfect for keeping cool on those warm San Myshuno summer days (and nights). If you're feeling a bit peckish, they do have two grills serving up delicious BBQ meats, veggies, even fish. If that does not suit your fancy, then you can also enjoy gourmet pizzas poolside baked fresh on the premises in their own deluxe rustic stone pizza oven.

So anyways, we decided to use @ts4-poses family reunion group pose to mark this auspicious occasion; plus I do enjoy group photos as my Sim and his wife have a large family. It turned out beautifully as no other group pose pack had poses for very large groups of adult Sims, certainly not 23 of them! Well, using the famous TOOL mod by TwistedMexi and duplicating a few of the poses, I was able to squeeze in 5 more for a grand total of 28..that's right..28 Sims! 😅😅 I did use the Get Famous sofa she used in her reunion group photo.

I have a number of shots both taken by my housemate Angela Pleasant, a level 10 photographer, as well as more oblique angles that caught the city lights and harbor below them via the "C" key in-game (I recently learned how to make wall portraits of the "C" key screenshots for in-game display).

Anyways, I hope you enjoy these photos and don't forget to grab this and other pose packs on @ts4-poses page! Thank you for making this large group pose! 😊😊👌

PS: As she states on her page, a couple of Sims may unpose. I had to literally chase them down and get them back to posing. Also, as I had used the TOOL mod to toggle and place some of the Sims, a couple had shifted around when saving the game. Just use the TOOL mod to move and/or rotate them back into position. And turn off autonomy temporarily to prevent this from happening with yours.

[stevesharrlngtons]

picking out the stitches.

roman godfrey x reader 

summary: after letha’s death; peter’s departure; shelley’s disappearance; and a brutal fight with subsequent break up with roman; you escape to the empire state for college and a fresh start. though, after thinking you have been given the space to move on with your life, your father’s unexpected death sends you back to hemlock grove. there, you are forced to confront the reason for your pained departure.

word count: 14.1k (oopies)

warning: mentions of an abusive father

a/n: this is a long bitch, with a possible part two (?) if this is enjoyed by you all! (: i hope the length of this makes up for it taking so long lol. also prob ooc roman bc i love him just being soft 

please if you read this and like it, know that feedback is greatly appreciated and i’d love to hear any thoughts you have!! also im bad at editing 

Tuna, turkey and swiss, BLT. 

No option offered sounded particularly tasty. You had come in search of egg salad sandwich, a surprising delicacy from the Hemlock Grove Grocery Deli that you had been craving since your departure months ago. It felt like comfort food, a way to make being back in town bearable. 

But the stockboys seemed to be sending you a message: there was no good reason to be back in town, and no sandwich was going to remedy your pain. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You flinched at the sound of your name as sweat prickled the back of your neck. The last fucking thing you wanted was to be recognized the second you got back into town. Being forced to interact with any of the waspy bitches or rednecks that attended your high school, especially now, seemed like a personal affront punishable with only your meanest of glares and most backhanded of compliments. 

But, who you found had called your name was not only a surprise, but a pleasant one. Not a bitch or mouth breather in sight. 

“Peter?” Your eyebrows perked up as you said his name, no doubt unable to hide your complete shock at his sudden appearance. 

“In the flesh.” He smiled. That same boyish smile that he always gave especially when you needed to see it. 

Your body worked on it’s own violation as you shot yourself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug. He thankfully returned the gesture, gripping the fabric of your dress in his fingers to keep you close. Peter pressed his nose to your temple and you buried yourself deep into the crook of his neck. It wasn’t until a voice cleared behind you that the two of you pulled apart. 

“Excuse me,” A man holding a wire basket interpreted, seeming less than pleased to have been forced to witness your reunion. 

“Sure, after you, sir.” Peter said, theatrically waving the man past. 

“Stupid fucker, couldn’t even go through another aisle.” He watched the man leave with a scowl.

“Shut up about inconiquestional people and tell me what the hell you’re doing back in town!” You said with a wide smile while slapping his chest playfully. 

“I think that’s a better question suited for me to you, don’t you think? Last I heard you fucked off to N-Y-C.” Peter said, leaning against the display of sandwiches. 

“Yeah? And who told you that?” 

“Destiny.” 

You smirked and rested your shoulder against the display, “She’s got a big mouth.” 

“Big mouth? Who cares if she does! New York is a big deal. NYU, even bigger.” 

You roll your eyes at the compliment. 

“Hey, no, I’m serious! You always were the scholar out of us. Fucking valedictorian while Roman and I barely managed C’s.” He continued. 

At the mention of Roman, you sucked in a sharp breath through your nose, eyes breaking from Peter’s only long enough for him to see your pain at his name. 

“You still haven't answered my question, you know?” You said, trying to seamlessly change the subject, fiddling with the ends of your hair to keep your hands busy. 

“Yeah, well, it isn’t a happy answer.” 

“Enlighten me anyway.” 

Peter gives a heaving sigh, a signature of his, “Lynda got pinched for some shit and was transferred out here... I followed.” 

Your heart sank. Lynda had always been exponentially kind and understanding. To you, Shelley and even Roman. 

“Shit, Peter. I’m so sorry. How’re you holding up?” You placed a comforting hand on his forearm. 

“As well as I can given the circumstances. I’m staying with D, so at least that’s good.” He gives a forced smile. 

“I’m glad you’re with family at a time like this.” You drop your hand and slouch against the display, matching his relaxed posture. 

There was a brief pause between the two of you, before Peter spoke again. 

“Usually, when one party enlightens the other, they are obligated to do the same.” He leans in ever so slightly to emphasize his point. 

“That is usually the deal, yes.” 

“So?”

“My dad croaked a few days ago. Heart attack.” 

“Holy shit, (Y/N/N),” Peter interrupted, face falling into a concerned frown. 

“No, no. It’s fine. He was a piece of shit,” You shrug. 

“Still, he was your dad.” 

“Yeah, he was my dad who hit me and my mom and loved booze more than either of us.” 

“He still was your dad, (Y/N).” He reiterated. 

You purse your lips and sigh.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to be all fucking weepy about the whole thing.” You say, grabbing a turkey and swiss from the display and pushing off to walk toward the register. 

“No one said you had to be,” Peter appealed as he followed behind you, “But don’t let everything get all clogged up in there.” 

He motioned to his chest and you roll your eyes, setting your sandwich on the conveyor belt for the cashier. 

“I promise you, the moment he is six feet under I will let all my emotions out. Mainly rejoice and relief.” You sent Peter a smile as your sandwich rang up. 

“Four forty, even.”

You reach into your purse, but Peter beats you to it. He hands the cashier a crumpled up five dollar bill. 

You give him a glare, “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Of course I did. It’s gonna be my lunch too.” He snatched the sandwich from the bagging area and saunters to the exit, leaving you to gather the nickels and dimes. 

Parked in a gravel parking lot looking over the lake, you and Peter sat in the cab of his tow truck. Both eating a half of the mediocre turkey and swiss while sharing a warm cherry Coke from the center console in silence. After a brief session of catch up on your lives over the past few months, you were both happy enough to just sit quietly in each other's company. Simply enjoying the comfort of being in the presence of someone you love. 

“You ever hear from him?” Peter spoke up, mouth full of bread and slimy meat. 

“Who?” You at least have the decency to cover your mouth as you spoke. 

“You know who. Don’t make me say his name, you got all squirly last time.” 

You sighed as you finish chewing the food in your mouth, savoring what you could of the cheap flavors as you avoided Peter’s gaze. Once you swallowed, you took a long gulp from the Coke can before answering. 

“No. He’s been out of my life since that night. Really prefer to keep it that way, too.” You replied clippedly, not wanting to talk about him any more than necessary. 

Peter belows a raspberry in response. 

You looked over to glare at him, “What?” 

“I just find that hard to believe.”

“That I don’t want to see the man who broke my heart?” You snap. 

“No, that Roman has been able to keep his distance from you.” 

“I thought we weren’t saying his name.” You abruptly look away and out the windshield once more. 

“Apologies.”

“You don’t have to sound so sincere about it.” You scoff. 

“What happened between you two, anyway? Before I left I could practically hear wedding bells.” 

“Destiny didn’t tell you?” You press your lips together firmly, hoping Destiny had just made up a lie on your behalf to tell her cousin. 

“All she said was that you and Roman supposedly got into this huge fight and you left a few days after. Nothing more, nothing less.” He explained. 

“Yeah, well huge fight is an understatement.” 

“Then what happened?” 

You sigh deeply, reclining against the headrest and wrapping your arms around your middle for some misplaced search for security. 

“It happened a few days after you skipped town. It was his birthday…” 

Music echoed around you as you placed gentle kisses along the expanse of Roman’s neck. You ran your fingers through his hair gently, collecting grease and pomade on your fingertips and under your nails as you did. He had an arm securing you tightly to his side, the other had been holding you too, but he had retrieved it to light a cigarette. 

After the traumatic week you two had undergone, you didn’t fight Roman much when he insisted all he wanted to do for his eighteenth birthday was drink, watch a movie and have you sleep over. You were happy he at least let you buy him a cupcake to commemorate the day, but wouldn’t see to any more festivities. He told you that now more than ever wasn’t a time to be merry. You didn’t blame him, no matter how much you wanted to celebrate him today. 

So, you let him share his birthday cupcake with you in the bottom of an empty swimming pool and hold you in an uncomfortable lounge chair for as long as he wanted. Fortunately, this was as calm as you’d seen him in days and you hoped that continued; at least until midnight. 

Roman lulled his head on top of yours and placed his hand on your hip, making sure every part of you that could be touching was. 

The sound of a door opening resounded in the distance and the distinct tap of heels on tile followed. You felt Roman deflate next to you as you both recognized who the sound belonged to. 

In sauntered Olivia, in a beautiful floor length gown with a sparkler in hand, painting patterns in the dark with the fire illuminating her wicked smile. 

“Happy Birthday, my darling.” She chimed, looking down at the both of you. 

You and Roman both shifted under her unwelcome gaze, neither responding. You turned further into Roman’s neck and you felt his fingers press harder into the flesh of your hip. 

“It can’t be a party with just the two of you, can it?” Olivia said, dropping the sparkler to lay by her side. 

“Well, three’s a crowd. So if you’ll excuse us.” Roman waved his hand that held his cigarette dismissively.

“One is the loneliest number, but two can be just as bad.” Olivia replied in a musical lit. 

Again, neither of you respond. You busy yourself fiddling with the collar of Roman’s tank top.

“(Y/N), darling, you do look beautiful tonight.” She turns her attention to you after the silence she received. Something Olivia knew Roman disapproved of her doing. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Godfrey.” You reply politely, glancing at her briefly before going back to Roman’s shirt. 

“Is that the dress Roman bought you some time back? I remember hearing you tell Shelley about it over dinner.” Olivia continued. 

“What is it that you want, again?” Roman snapped, making you flinch at his volume increase. 

“I have a surprise for you. In the attic.” She gestured using what’s left of the dying sparkler at the ceiling. 

“Can’t it wait?” Roman said, wholly disinterested. 

“No, it cannot, Roman. It is your birthday surprise and I would like to give it to you now.” Her voice became more stern by the word. 

Roman moves to look at you and you do the same. His eyes are inviting you to a conversation Olivia isn’t privy too. An almost psychic communication you’ve had together since the day you first met. 

Do we go with her? Or wait her out until she leaves? 

Just see what she wants. Once she’s shown you we can get back to doing whatever you want. 

Roman pursed his lips before letting out a dramatic sigh, “Fine.” 

He got up from the chair before offering you his hand to help you up. 

Olivia watched as you both climb the ladder out of the empty pool and onto the landing. 

“Let’s get this over with.” Roman gave his mother a firm glare. 

He placed a hand on the small of your back and started for the door when Olivia stopped him. 

“I’m afraid, this gift is for Godfrey eyes only.” She looked at you with weakly masked distaste. 

You felt Roman’s fingers once again probe into your skin, “She is a Godfrey.” 

“Not in name or blood.”

“But she will be so it doesn’t matter.” Roman retorted, harshly. 

This wasn’t the first time he had alluded to your future together, and at the time, you didn’t think it would be the last. 

“Well, she isn’t yet, is she? When she is, then she will be welcome to engage in all Godfrey birthday present exchanges.” Olivia sneered.

“There is nothing you could show me that she can’t-” You placed a gentle hand on Roman’s chest before he could continue. 

This fight certainly wasn’t worth it. Especially not over a fucking birthday present. 

“It’s fine. I’ll wait in your room.” You offered. 

“Off the premise.” Olivia chimed in curtly. 

“Excuse me?” Roman spat. 

“(Y/N) can go home and see you tomorrow. This gift needs much explanation and discussion.” 

“This is beyond fucking ridiculous!” 

“Ro, it’s OK. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile up at him. 

You didn’t want to leave him. Not now, not ever, but never with Olivia. 

“I’ll see you later tonight.” Roman stressed.

“Tomorrow would be-” 

“Let’s just call it a see-you-soon, then?” You cut off Olivia, never taking your eyes off Roman. 

He just tightens his jaw, so tight you’re afraid he might crack a filling. But he nods. 

“Fine. I’ll call you.” He says. And he says it with such sincerity that you know without a doubt he will, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He kisses your forehead and you kiss his cheek, not overly keen on giving him the proper goodbye kiss you wanted to infront of Olivia. As you walk away, you spare Olivia a last glance and the look on her smug face is one so self satisfied it made your stomach churn. 

Roman never called you that night, or even the next morning. The calls you gave him were left unanswered; texts and voicemails the same. 

You would have called Peter, Shelley or Letha to see if they’d heard from Roman at a time like this, but all were depressingly dead ends. 

Under the circumstances that you left under the night before, you took it upon yourself to drive to the Godfrey residence and find out what the hell was going on yourself. You didn’t trust Olivia as far as you could throw her, and you didn’t put any heinous act past her. 

Your worry beat out any common sense you had to stay away and wait for Roman to come to you. 

When you arrived and knocked on the door, several times to be exact, it seemed no one was home. Though, both cars were in the driveway and you knew neither Roman or Olivia would take a cab anywhere. With balled fists you slammed against the wood of the door, kicking your foot against it as well for good measure. You had been in your knocking rhythm so long, when the door finally opened you stumbled forward. 

You caught yourself on the knob and looked up to see who answered. 

Roman stood above you with expressionless features and down turned lips. 

“What?” He asked. 

“Don’t ‘what’ me! ‘What’ you! You never called and you haven’t been answering.” You said, straightening yourself out. 

“You’re not my fucking keeper,” Roman scoffed and turned his back to walk down the hallway. 

Your face screwed up in confusion as you stepped over the threshold into the mansion and slammed the door, then followed him through the house. 

“Excuse me? What is up with you?” You exclaimed. 

Roman had stopped in the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator while trying his best to seem unbothered with tense shoulders. 

“Nothing is up. I just didn’t want to call you.” He spoke into the crisper drawer. 

“Since when?” 

“Since now.” 

“What the fuck did Olivia show you? Must have been really messed up for you to be acting like this.” You let a humorless laugh through your nose. 

“Or maybe I was just happy to be rid of you and now that you’re back, I am pissed.” He slammed the door to the fridge, its contents rattling inside. 

Your surprised expression hadn’t wavered as Roman glared at you, his eyes dull and unfamiliar. 

“Ok, so, yesterday you’re talking about marrying me, and today I am some parasite you’re happy to be rid of? Is that right?” You took a step toward him. 

“I was never going to marry you, you delusional whore.” His first real hit, chipping away at your weak armour. The armour he had weakened himself with his love and care for years. 

“If I’m whore, I’d hate to know what that makes you.” You spat. 

“It makes me the fucking billionaire who mistakenly kept around some boring girl with a mediocre cunt.” His second hit. 

“Wow. You’re right, Roman. I am a whore, but I must be an idiot too! To stay with such a man who calls my pussy mediocre when he can’t even fuck me right.” You provoked. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Yeah? Why don’t you? Because for as long as I can remember I’ve been faking my orgasms just to get your pathetic little prick out of me. Is that why you cry after Roman? Because you know about that weak excuse of a dick between your legs?” 

You were being cruel and frankly, spinning lies. But he was hurting you and you wanted to hurt him back. 

“No, I cry thinking about all the other guys you let between your legs. Maybe that’s why daddy hits you, huh? Hoping that one day he hits you hard enough to rattle that whore brain so hard it kills you? So he won’t have to live with the shame? Or maybe he hopes if he hits you enough you’ll finally drop to your knees and show him that head everyone in town talks about.” The last hit, and the one that broke you. 

You close the last few steps between you and strike him as hard as you can muster across the face, cranking Roman’s head to the side with the impact. The slap rings loudly through the room, so do your sniffles. 

“How can you be so cruel? How could you ever say that to me?” You scream through tears. 

“Just speaking the truth.” Roman said smoothly, his head still rotated. 

“What is going on with you? What happened last night?” 

“I came to my senses, that’s what happened. I realized that I was sick of wasting all my time on a miserable little bitch when I could be out fucking real women.” He says through gritted teeth, “Real women who don’t need so much tedious validation from me.” 

“Are you done?” You snapped, your throat thick with tears. 

“With you. Yes.” 

You couldn’t think of anything else to say. Malicious words spun in your head, ready to fire off your tongue and tear him apart, but you knew you would never be able to get them out in one piece. You would stutter and sob and shake and it would give Roman even more satisfaction at seeing you crumble. So, you turned on your heel as fast as you could, holding your hand over your mouth to silence your cries and fled the Godfrey home. 

“Shee-it.” Peter said, looking sick. 

“Shee-it, indeed.” You nod. 

“So, that was it?” 

“That was it. I was there barely five minutes when it was all said and done… then I went home, cried my stupid eyes out and packed my shit. It was always the plan for me to do online courses and stay here with him, but, y’know, things changed... So, I left.” 

“I know that feeling.” Peter says, giving the river a thousand mile stare. 

“I know you do. Let’s not forget you abandoned me, too.” You said, far more harshly than intended. The topic of the break up having brought old wounds to the surface. 

A pained expression crossed his face, “(Y/N)... Fuck, I’m sorry. I am. I just… after Letha,” 

“You don’t have to explain. I’m sorry I snapped. I forgave you the minute you left, for the most part, anyway.” You shrugged. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You sigh and look over at him, “If I had been in your shoes I would have hightailed it the second I could have.” 

He offers you a sad smile, “But you needed me, and I left.” 

“It’s really OK. Because you’re here now. And it all worked out.” 

“New York that good, then?” 

“Better than good. I’m alone and broke-.” 

“And that’s better than good?” He chuckles.

“Surprisingly, yeah. I’m learning and figuring things out on my own. I’m finding things that make me happy without having to worry about anything else. It’s just nice.” You smile as you speak. 

“That makes me happy. Man, it really does. All I ever wanted for you was happiness. I thought I had left you with the silver you had left of it.” Peter says, resting his temple to the head rest. 

“You did what you had too and so did I. I’m sure Roman did too, in his own twisted way,” You reply, “I don’t want to focus on the past anymore. I am purley looking forward to the future from now on.” 

Peter dropped you off at home after hours of milling around the streets of Hemlock Grove in his truck. You kept asking if he had to go back to work, but he would dismiss your concern each time. Telling you that he was spending time with you and he’d worry about towing later. As much as you knew you should pressure him to take you home, you were happy for the company, especially when that company was Peter. 

His reappearance in your life was unexpected, but wholly accepted and appreciated. You didn’t know the next time you’d be able to see him again, so you were going to enjoy his companionship while you had it. 

Hopping out of the truck and brushing residual crumbs from the turkey sandwich from your dress, you shut the door. The window rolled down and Peter leaned over the console to look at you.   

“Don’t be a stranger.” He smiles at you and you can’t help but return it. 

“Never again.” 

“If you have time, come by Destiny’s before you head back up north. I know she’d love to have dinner.” He proposes and your smile widens. 

“I’d love that, I’ll keep you posted.” You start to back up toward your front door. 

“And let me know if you need anything, anything at all. I know losing someone is tough.” His smile falls slightly as the funeral is mentioned again. 

You knew Peter was worried about you and he had good intentions, but he didn’t know your father like you did. You were going to this thing for appearances and to make your grandmother happy, if you had had a choice you would have rather stayed at school. 

“Got it. Thank you, Peter.” 

You wave him off and you watch as he double takes to look at you until he is out of sight, only then did you enter your house. 

The house isn’t much and it wasn’t the home you grew up in. When your mother finally left your father, she promptly moved you both into a smaller place on the west side of Hemlock Grove that was better suited for your new family dynamic. 

It was a dated burgundy one story, with bland beige carpets and no overhead lighting in the bedrooms, but with two bathrooms. That was helpful down the line when your mother began dating again and her multiple suitors would stay for weeks at a time. You never wanted to be alone with any of them, so that meant crossing the boundary into her room to use the en suite was always out of the question. 

Your bedroom was somewhere you always found solace and comfort, even now it felt more like home than anywhere in the world. It had a small excuse of a bay window that looked out over a small and shallow creek. One of your mother’s more involved boyfriends had built you a window bench years before underneath it, upholstered in red velvet. You had run your fingers over the soft fabric so many times, certain places were now rubbed raw and threadbear. 

Roman used to sit on your bed while you sat on the bench, reading to him from a litany of novels, some for pleasure and some for assignments. He’d look at you and tell you the light from the window haloed you like an angel. You’d tell him he was just talking out of his ass to get you to stop reading and fool around. Then Roman would smirk and shrug, like he wasn’t sure who was more right. His memory seemed to be etched into every detail of your bedroom, unfortunately. 

There was the small heart he had carved into your headboard with an unclicked pen, your initials carved around it. There was your small Ikea vanity, that was stained with nail polish from the time Roman insisted he could do your nails better than you could. There was your closet, just big enough to hold you both inside; where you would steal kisses when you first started to sneak him into your room at night. There was the faded paint on the wall in the shape of a rectangle, where a picture frame of you and Roman at your first homecoming together had once been. There was your fucking duvet cover, that you and Roman would hide underneath on bright mornings. Where he’d hold you and kiss you softly, whispering sweet affections until the muggy air between you became thick and he’d push your noses up over the edge of the blanket to take in giggling gulps of breath. 

Roman Godfrey had left painful reminders of himself everywhere. There were too many for you to erase fully. His memory was like a Hydra, repress a recollection of his and two more would pop into your mind in its place.

Now, all the bench held your small suitcase that you had packed early this morning for your short trip down to Pennsylvania. Just some toiletries, a few changes of clothes, a black cocktail dress and a few textbooks. Just because your father died didn’t mean your school work would lighten because of it. 

While it wasn’t very late, you had been up early to catch your train and hadn’t expected to be out all day with Peter. You excused your premature exhaustion and decided it was best to take a shower, have a snack and then go to bed. Tomorrow was to no doubt try your nerves, so a full night's rest was likely your best option. 

After your shower, you slipped into a pair of pajamas and went down the hall to see if your mother had left you any suitable food. She was still on vacation with her current boyfriend and wouldn’t be able to make it back until Monday, a full day after you were set to leave. So, all you could hope was that there was something edible left in the pantry. 

Tussling your damp hair in your hands, you padded through the kitchen to try and make something with the odds and ends your mother had in stock. 

As you settled on a half eaten bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa, there was a knock at the door. Your mother’s car was missing from the driveway and anyone who would drop by unannounced knew she was out of town. Assuming it was a solicitor or a package delivery, you ignored it and continued on with your pre-bed snack. But the knocking didn’t let up. 

Begrudgingly, you made your way to the door in the hopes of shooing off whoever was bothering you. Though, when you opened it, you debated simply closing the door like it nothing had happened. To just shut the door tight and pretend that you hadn’t seen who was standing on your doorstep. All six feet four inches of him. 

With his back to you and a large bouquet of roses in hand, Roman glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door open. He looked about as startled as you felt when he laid eyes on you. 

“(Y/N).” He blurted out, his body swiveling like an owl to face the same direction as his head. 

“Roman.” You gave him a forced smile, cursing that you had lost your opportunity to run and hide.

“I, uh, well, wow. I, these are for your mother,” Roman whipped out the bouquet from behind him, “I heard about your dad. I just wanted to see how she was holding up. I know they aren’t close or anything, but y’know, it’s still the father of her child.” 

You took the flowers from him carefully, making sure to avoid where his fingers lay on the stems. 

“She’s not here, but thanks. I’ll make sure to let her know you stopped by.” You continued your kind facade before moving to shut the door. 

But Roman was quicker as he placed a large hand on the wood to keep it ajar. 

“I’m sorry for you too, you know? I know how it feels to lose a father. So, I’m sorry.” He said, like he was trying to keep you in his company as long as possible. 

“Wish my dad would have eaten a bullet when I was a kid. You got lucky.” You joke, once more trying to shut the door. 

And Roman continued to keep it open. 

“Well, I know things ended… bad- But! I’m still here if you need me. For anything. Have all the preparations been taken care of?” He asked. 

“Yeah, my grandma and grandpa took care of it. Nothing to worry about. But thanks, Roman.”

Roman’s eyes widened and his mouth puckered, the way he always did when he had a million things to say and no idea how to say them. 

You began to notice his attire as he loomed over you, with no seeming intention of leaving you or your front stoop alone. 

He wore a thick winter coat over a black three piece suit, tailored to perfection. His hair was parted on the right and smoothed down with gel. It certainly wasn’t your favorite look on him, but your input hardly mattered anymore. He wore Oxford dress shoes that were spotless and without a crease. You realized just then that he must have come right from The White Tower to bring the flowers to your mother, and these were his work clothes. These were the clothes and fifty dollar haircut of a fresh faced CEO.

You had known that he was set to secede the throne of Godfrey Industries once he turned eighteen, but you never gave it much thought after you moved to New York. The Roman who haunted your dreams and took residence in your thoughts was always your Roman. The boy who wanted to smoke and dance and kiss and laugh. Not a business tycoon out for blood. 

“I didn’t know you would be in town. I would have stopped by.” He said, finally finding words to give him a reason to stay. 

“You already have.” 

“I know, but I would have made it more deliberate. More to see you and not to just give my condolences to you mother.” Roman explained, his hand still on the door. 

You snort, “Yeah, well I don’t know why you’re giving her flowers anyway. She doesn’t like you. Not after I told her everything.” 

“Yeah, uh, I didn’t know that.” He laughs uncomfortably, finally taking a step away and relieving your door of his hostage. 

“Well, it was nice of you to come by. I’ll see you around, Roman.” It was clear from your tone that this incommodious conversation was over. 

Though, Roman still was outwardly ignoring your brusque attitude, “Could I come in? I would love to catch up for a moment? For old times sake?” 

“I don’t know if that is such a good idea.” 

“I won’t be long, I promise.” He bargained

You watched him for a long moment, debating on what to do. On one hand, you craved his presence. You craved him after just one sighting and wanted him to come in, to talk, to listen, to heal. Because like you said to Peter in the car earlier, you did believe that Roman had done what he had for a reason, it was just no doubt a fucked up and selfish one. You couldn’t hate him forever, you didn’t want to. It would destroy you before it did any good. 

On the other, all you could do was hear his voice echoing in your mind, explaining his disgust for you. 

But, you wanted to look to the future. You wanted to free yourself of the burden of grudges and hatred. You wanted to forgive Roman, the best you could, and leave him and his faults to fester in the past while you moved on with your life. 

So, you pushed the door open wider with the tips of your fingers and walked back to the kitchen, while Roman eagerly followed. 

“I’ll have to find every vase in the house for these,” You quietly joked.

“I could buy a big vase to hold them tomorrow and send it over if you’d like?” He was following closer than you would have liked as you searched the cabinets for vases and empty jars. 

“No, it’s alright. I think I’ll like how eclectic they’ll look in mismatched glasses.” You said, “And then I could put them all around the house. It’ll be a nice surprise for my mom when she gets home.” 

You undid the thick satin ribbon holding the bouquet together and found a pair of scissors to cut off the ends.

“Want me to fill these with water?” Roman asked, nodding to the empty vases.

“If you don’t mind.” 

Roman nodded, shedding his wool jacket and blazer, depositing it on a chair. Then, rounding the island to stand next to you to begin filling each receptacle from the sink. 

He was closer to you now than he had been in months. You could smell his woody cologne that clung to his skin, mixed with cigarette smoke and the night air. He must have been driving with the top down. You hated that only his scent could send your heart into somersaults and make your hands quiver with need. All you could think about with him in such a proximity was looking up into his green eyes and him looking down into your (Y/E/C) ones. Looking down at you with that stupid fucking smirk. Then with that smirk, Roman would place a hand on your cheek and gently press it to your lips and you would be in heaven. 

Anything Roman did to you was heaven. 

Expect when he was hurting you. Which you had to remind yourself, he very much did. 

“So, where’s your mom?” Roman asked, placing a mason jar next to faux crystal vase.

“In Florida with her new boyfriend.” You commented. 

“Yeah, I heard she was seeing someone.” 

“You know if he’s any good?” 

“Nah, just that she was seeing someone. I keep an ear to the ground to make sure she’s doing alright.” Another glass filled. 

“You don’t have to do that, Roman.” You paused cutting stems for a moment to glance up at him. 

He was already looking at you. 

“I know. I want to. It’s the least I can do.”     

You hold eye contact for a few beats, Roman’s eyes boring into yours in that hyponic way that always left you weak in the knees. 

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.” And you both went back to your tasks at hand. 

It was obvious that you were more than willing to work in silence, and it was clear that Roman wasn’t. 

“So… how’s NYU?” He prompts. 

“Good. I really like it.” 

“Enjoying your studies?” 

“Very much.” 

“And the city? Is it treating you alright?” 

“Yes, I think after I graduate I’ll stay for a while.” 

Roman only hums in reply. Like that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you’re doing well.” 

“Thank you.”

The conversation lulls as the sound of water and sheers fill the room. 

Roman is chewing his cheek and bobbing his head, and you know he won’t let up his chatter anytime soon. 

“I’ve been working at The Tower. I took over a few months ago.” He says, eyes darting to you like he was looking for praise. 

“Oh,” You reply like you hadn’t already figured it out, “How’s that going?” 

“Fine. I mean, it’s a lot of work. A lot of stress, but I’m glad I’m doing it.” He sounds unconvincing as he rambles on about Godfrey Industries and Pryce’s lab while you focus on the flowers. 

“Do you ever wonder what you would be doing if you hadn’t been told your entire life that you would take over Godfrey?” You ask, somewhat out of the blue.

Roman stops talking abruptly, his hands pausing under the tap. 

“Not really.” 

“Isn’t there anything else you would have wanted to do? Like in a dream scenario in a perfect world?” You elaborate. 

Roman seems unsettled by your questioning, like these were things no one had ever asked him. Things he had never even asked himself. 

“I think in a dream scenario, I would be rich beyond my wildest dreams. And I already am, so why waste time dreaming?” You can tell he isn’t even satisfied with his answer.

You don’t reply, leaving the subject where it lay in the air to go back to working in silence. 

“So...” Roman begins again, refusing to let the conversation die down.

“You seeing anyone?” Roman tries to sound blase, but you know this question lays heavy on him. 

You barely withhold a scoff as you set your scissors down to look at him once more.

He double takes in your direction, not wanting to look at you for fear of your answer, “What?” 

“I’m just surprised you held off this long without asking the question we both know you wanted to ask the second you saw me.” 

“Not really an answer…” he murmurs. 

“Not really your business.” You counter. 

“So there is someone?” You could hear a twinge of anger in his voice. 

“Not that it is any of your business, because I want to stress that it really isn’t, but no. I am not seeing anyone.” 

“Oh.” Roman’s lip twitches into a smile that he tries to conceal from you. 

“Yeah, oh.” You roll your eyes and finish with your clippings and begin to arrange the rose into glasses. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Roman, with his work now over, turns to look down at you, a smirk on his lips. 

“Ask you what?” 

“If I’m seeing anyone.” 

“I don’t care, Roman.” 

“Really?” He leans closer to you.

“Well, what constitutes seeing someone, to you? A one night stand? A hooker? An actual multiple date relationship? What is your definition?” You jeer. 

“How would you define it?” 

“Different from you.” 

“Oh come on,” He pokes, “Tell me.”

He was becoming far too chummy with you for your taste.

“I guess I would define it as multiple dates.” 

“By that definition, then no. I’m not seeing anyone.” 

“But if I defined it by hookers and one night stands?” You inquired. 

Roman doesn’t answer. 

You can’t help but laugh, “And you said I was a whore.” 

The air between you changes, then. It was calm, if not slightly awkward before then, but now it felt tense and uncomfortable.

“(Y/N), I…” 

“Don’t.” You reply before he can say anything else. 

“But I want to say this, I need to.” Roman persists, reaching out to grab your shoulder. 

You shrug off his advance quickly and take a few steps back from him. Roses and vases completely forgotten. 

“I need to apologize to you.”

“You need to apologize to me for what, Roman?”

“For that night, what I said-!” Roman starts. 

“No. What I mean is, are you apologizing because you’re actually sorry? Because you think that’s what you’re supposed to say to me? Or because you want what you did off your conscious?” You raise a single eyebrow. 

“Are you kidding? I’m saying this because I am fucking sorry! I hate what I said to you, it fucking eats me up!” Roman throws his hand in the air as he yells. 

“So it is option C.” You replied. 

“Jesus fucking- no! It’s not! It’s A! It’s fucking A. You think I wanted to do what I did? Huh? You think I wanted you to leave?” 

“Yes, I did. I do.”

“Then fuck you if you think that. Fuck you if you think that I wanted to say all those things. Maybe you don’t really know me at all.” Roman sneers. 

“I already concluded that.” 

He scoffs.

“Is this why you wanted to come in? Force me into conversation? Ask me if I’m dating anyone, give me a half assed apology and insult me?” You crossed your arms. 

“No! No, that’s not why I asked to come in.” Roman shot back. 

“Then why?” 

“Because I fucking missed you, alright? I fucking missed you and I needed to be near you, even if only for a moment.” 

Roman’s voice echoed in the kitchen, his words hanging in the air and ringing in your ears. You could hear them dance in your mind and slide down your back with a chill, taunting you and making your emotions tear in a million different directions.

“Roman, I think it’s time for you to leave.” You say, running your tongue over your teeth. 

“No! I’m not fucking leaving. Tell me you don’t miss me too.” Roman took a step toward you as he ran a hand through his slicked down hair, ruining it’s perfection. 

“I have to get up early, so I just really think you should go.” 

“(Y/N), tell me you don’t miss me and I’ll leave right now. You’ll never see me again, I swear.” 

You don’t respond, just cross your arms over your chest. You rub your hands over the skin of your arms, peaking your fingers beneath your shirtsleeves and gripping the fabric tightly. 

“Just tell me.”

You meet his gaze as Roman closes the gap between the two of you. He was close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin and the warmth he radiated. An unwarranted chill set through you. 

All hope of forgetting the past and moving on was gone, you didn’t care anymore. All you wanted was for Roman to leave. You wanted him to leave so you could wrap yourself in blankets and cry until you couldn’t see anymore.

“Roman, just go.” You whispered, your vocal chords straining to even do that. 

“It’s because you can’t say that you don’t.” Roman raised a hand a single finger tracing the features of your face and causing your eyes to drift shut. 

He traced your orbital bone and the angle of your nose and your eyebrow and ear. He traced your jaw and your chin and the shape of your ear and stopped to caress your lips. 

With each swoop of his finger tip, he was erasing hurt and anguish and pain. He was soothing you and giving you an old form of intimacy that you had craved. He was regaining his sense of self in your mind, reminding you that he could act like he had before that night. He was twining his roots back into your mind.

When his finger finally stopped, you opened your eyes and saw tears had gathered in Roman’s. They were threatening to breech from his lash line as he stared at you with a drumming heart. 

“Tell me why you hurt me first.” 

And Roman dropped his hand and said nothing for a long moment. 

“It’s a long story.” He replies, sniffling loudly through his nose. 

“I’ve got time.” 

“It’s not pretty.” 

“I don’t care.”

You had moved to the dining room for Roman’s story. You both sat on opposite ends of your mother’s old mosaic table that you had both eaten many meals at. It was covered in vintage tiles and you picked at the surrounding grout as you listened to him. You ground your fingernails between the titles, filing them into powder as Roman told you about his birthday and everything that had happened since the night you left him. 

Of Letha. Of the child. Of the razor blades embedded into his arms. Of his mother’s tongue. Of the bloodlust. 

Of the loss.

“This is some fucking Twilight bullshit.” You said once Roman had gone quiet.

“This isn’t fucking funny, (Y/N).” Roman replied, bouncing his knee and pinching his chin. 

“No, it’s not fucking funny at all, Roman. Not even a bit, but it is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life.” You snort a laugh from your nose. 

“You don’t believe me?” 

“Oh, I believe you. After all that shit with Peter, of course I believe you. Doesn’t make it any less ridiculous.” 

Roman raises his eyebrows in understanding with a slight nod. 

“So, what? You saying all that shit to me was because you thought you were going to suck me dry, or something?” 

“Stop making jokes.” He growled. 

“I’m being fucking serious, Roman! What was it?” You stood from your chair to impose over him. 

“You deserved better. It would have been too much for you.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a martyr, Roman!” You fumed, “Since when have you ever got to decide what was good and what was bad for me?” 

“You don’t understand!” Roman pushed up from his chair with such force it tumbled to the floor, “I could barley fucking handle this, OK? I had been living a lie, I had become a monster overnight! I was fucking scared for you- scared for me. What I could do-” 

His voice began to quiver and his palms shook as he wiped his clammy palms on his slacks. 

“You would either have left me or I would have killed you. I don’t doubt that for a second, and I couldn’t lose anyone else. Not after Letha, not after Peter and Shelley. I just couldn’t.” 

“So, pushing me away was the answer?” You asked. 

“At the time, yes.”

You just shook your head, and collapsed back into your chair.

“I did it because I loved you.” Roman said, tears streaking his flushed cheeks. 

“Stop, Roman...” 

“I fucking loved you so much so I made you leave. I fucking love you more than anything.”

He spoke like he was taking his last breath and collapsed to his knees like a dying man, his bones smacking loudly against the linoleum as he crawled to you, tears still leaking from his eyes. 

“You have to believe that I’m sorry. I am, I am, I am.” 

Roman rested his head on your lap as he wept, his hands clutching your calves. 

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think or speak. All your mind could comprehend was Roman’s deep and encompassing sadness and his wayward soul. 

You could barely grasp the story he told, so it was unimaginable to you how it must have felt to live it. Your heart ached for him so profoundly. 

Of course you didn’t agree with what he had done to you, not for a moment. He had resorted to cruelty out of fear and you hated it. It was inexcusable. 

But, you folded yourself in half and covered his body with yours anyway, and let Roman cry in your lap. You let him cry out the fear and sadness and the exhaustion he had felt these past months. 

You had let Roman cry himself dry before escorting him to the door. He held your hand on the way and you didn’t stop him. When you reached the door, Roman was the one to open it and step out into the cold Pennsylvania night. Though, his hand stayed intertwined with your own as he walked out onto your porch.  

“What time is the funeral?” He asked. 

“10 AM.” You replied. 

His skin seemed to glow against the night sky, his milky complexion contrasting beautifully to the dark nature behind him. 

“I’ll be there.” 

You shook your head, but squeezed his hand, “You don’t have to, really. It’s going to be long and boring.” 

“(Y/N),” He looked at you with a crisp sincerity, “I’ll be there.” 

You didn’t know what to say, because you weren’t entirely sure what you should say. You wanted to beg him not to come and make a spectacle at his attendance. You wanted to beg him to come and hold your hand and ward off the demons your father had sewn into your psyche. 

“Please, Roman, it’s not a big deal. I swear. I’m sure you have better things to do.” 

He pursed his lips back at you, like he was deciding if arguing with you on the matter was really worth it. Or if he would win or not. In the end, he said nothing. Just nodded and glanced over to his bright red Jaguar in the driveway. 

When Roman looked back to you, you both knew a goodbye wasn’t needed. Your love-telepathy coming back just for a moment to bid each other adidu for the night. An intimacy you didn’t even know you missed until now. 

Roman was the first to step away, pulling your hands apart as he did. You felt each finger detangle from his own, until your pinkies were the only things tethering you to each other. When they detached, your hand fell listlessly to your side and Roman watched you intently as he walked to his car, got in, and pulled from your drive away. Only looking away when he finally drove into the night. 

You smoothed the dress over your hips as you smiled politely at guests entering the church. They offered you watery smiles and condolences as they spread out into the pews.

You wanted to spit in their faces and scream. Scream and sink your nails into your skin and tell them that he had painted bruises on your skin and installed his hatred for you into your heart before you were old enough to know it was wrong. 

He wasn’t a good man. He was far from it. 

But no one who was crying tears for him and shaking your hand knew this, and if they did they didn’t care. He was good at hiding what he did, what he had become. 

You felt like your head was in a fish bowl with the more people who entered. Their faces blurring and distorting before you, their words muffled and useless. You began just nodding at everyone’s words, refusing to listen to anything else they had to say about Heaven and God’s good will. You wished you had a good excuse to leave and never come back. 

It wasn’t until someone wheeled in the casket that you found your escape from the line of mourners and made your way outside. Because the second you laid eyes on the box of shiny mahogany, your stomach dropped to your feet and bile threatened to spill from your lips. 

The man you had hated your entire life, the one who had hurt you, the one who struck you, the one who had belittled you, the man who hurt your mother. That man was dead. He was in that fucking box, seperated from you and the living by a few inches of wood.

That man was your father and he was supposed to love you and now he was filled with stuffing and had waxy skin covered in blush and a heart that would never beat again. A mouth that was sewn shut and would never speak again. To never yell, to laugh, to tell you he loved you. 

It was over. 

Then why were you so sad? 

Maybe Peter was right... maybe you’d even tell him. 

As you made your way outside, you sucked in as much fresh air as your lungs could take. You let the cold air chill your exposed skin and the grey skies calm your overstimulated senses. While gulping in the breeze and pressing your fingernails to your palms to ground yourself, you gazed out over the parking lot. It was then, that you shed your first tears of the day.

Because there, all in black leaning against his car was Roman Godfrey, looking right back at you.

He’d come. 

Because he cared. 

Because he loved you. 

You didn’t think twice as he ran down the church steps as fast as your heels could take you to him, needing to feel him. Roman did the same, rushing across the asfalte to you, wrapping you in his arms immediately as you collided with his chest. 

“You came,” You sobbed into his button down, “You came, you came, you came.” 

“Of course I did.” He cooed, nuzzling close to you. 

“I needed you and you knew and you came.” 

“I’ll always come, even when you don’t call.” 

As you both went back to the church, Roman stood with you to greet people coming in. His hand on your lower back and his grandiose stature and expression keeping people from dawdling too long to speak with you. 

The service was bleak and full of lies, but you mustered through it without a scoff or outburst for your grandparents sake. Roman sat next to you the entire time, his arm over your shoulder and his temple resting against your head. He’d occasionally place a gentle kiss to your hairline or stroke his fingers over your arm as a reminder that he was with you. 

And you loved him for it.

When it was all over and your father’s casket was being rolled away, everyone dispersed. Some to follow the hearse to the graveyard, some to just go home. You and Roman stayed in your seats. You had decided you didn’t want to see your father put in the ground. Not because he didn’t deserve it, but because you couldn’t handle it. You weren’t sure exactly all the reasons why, maybe Peter would know the answer to that, too.

You both waited until no one was left in the church, just watching the sun gleam through the stained glass windows at the ceiling and enjoying each other's company. 

“You alright?” Roman asked once he was sure everyone was gone. 

“I don’t know. I’m still figuring that out, I guess.” You said with a half hearted shrug. 

“It’s OK. You have time.” 

You gave a nod before leaning closer to him, resting your head underneath his own, letting Roman sit his chin on your crown. 

“I thought I would be overjoyed when this day finally came… but I’m not. I’m not really happy and I’m not really sad. I’m just here.”

“I think that’s just fine.” Roman replied, rubbing gentle up and down your arm. 

“Thank you for being here.” You remove yourself from under his chin to look at him, “It would have been so much worse without you.” 

Roman offered you a soft smile and placed his unoccupied hand on your cheek. 

You placed your own hand over his and shut your eyes, reveling in his soft touch. 

It was so quiet and all you could hear was the sound of your heart in your ears and Roman’s rhythmic breathing.

“What now?” 

“I’m not sure,” You open your eyes to see he’s already looking at you, “Where are you going?” 

“Wherever you are.” 

You smile, “Then take me there.” 

As you walked through Roman’s front door, you tried to hide a frown. The old Godfrey mansion had been so intricate and full of character. With crown molding and warm golds and rich browns, and history in every nook and cranny. Roman’s new home… it was sterile and bland and grey. It felt cold even with the hum of the radiator. It felt large and imposing, much like it’s owner. It was the type of home that echoed with loneliness.   

“So, what do you think?” Roman asked from where he stood close behind you. 

“I like it,” You said, “It’s very…” 

“You hate it.” 

You turned to face him and he was looking at you fondly. 

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.” 

He nods and takes a step forward, “Yeah, I sort of knew you wouldn’t like it.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You always loved the old house. Said it felt like you were in a  victorian novel.” 

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his memory, “And you always hated it.” 

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.” He grins at you and you can’t help but smile back at him. 

“So, you decided when you moved out you’d make your new place the antithesis of it?” 

“Something like that. Anything to erase the memory of my mother.” Roman says this with the cadence of a joke, but his eyes darken at the mention of Olivia. 

“I can’t say I blame you.” You reply before he quickly changes the subject. 

“Have a seat and I’ll make us both a drink,” He says, gesturing toward his large loveseat in the living room. 

You do so, and as you sit down, you admire him standing over the wet bar. He had shed his blazer from his suit on the kitchen table, and through the fabric of his button down (an expensive silk blend from the looks of it) you could so the movement of his broad shoulders and the expanse of the muscles in his back. 

The memory of running your hands across the peaks and valleys of his back stuck you. The memory of his smooth skin under your palms made your fingers burn with yearning and twitch with need to reacquaint yourself with the velvet that was Roman Godfrey’s skin.  

Roman had finished making your drinks. Both crimson in crystal tumblers. He walked to you and handed you the beverage, which you accepted with a thank you. As you took your first sip of your drink, you couldn't help but smile as Roman sat down next to you on his couch. 

“Vodka cranberry?” 

“Like I’d forget your favorite drink,” He says, smiling against the rim of his tumbler, “Well, second favorite. I don’t really have the ingredients for a Long Island iced tea.” 

“I think this works better under the circumstances, anyway. Drinking a Long Island iced tea after a funeral feels a little morbid.” 

“Yeah, but your dad would’ve hated that you were drinking one.” Roman pointed out. 

You chuckled, because he was right. Your father hated drinks where the alcohol was masked by chasers and sugar. He deemed them feminine and embarrassing for anyone to drink, ridiculing anyone (no matter their gender) if they ordered one. 

“That is true,” You take a pull from your glass, “He would have hated that you went to his funeral, too. Because, well he hated you.” 

Roman gives a wide smirk, “I can’t say that doesn't bring me some joy.” 

You could count on one hand the number of times your father met Roman during the years you dated. Though, everytime he had, he made his distinct dislike for your boyfriend overwhelmingly obvious. He thought of Roman like most other people in town did. A spoiled, rich, entitled, sauve asshole. But, for your father, he felt like he had a personal stake in hating Roman. He masqueraded like he didn’t like Roman simply for dating his daughter, but he didn’t give a shit about you or your well being. Your father, the pathetic drunk that he was, was threatened by Roman more than any man you had ever met. He was the one person who he couldn’t intimidate and feel superior too, because Roman didn’t feel intimidated or lesser to anyone in the world. 

“Me too.” 

You both drink in silence for a moment, and you pretend not to notice Roman as he inched closer to you on the cushions. 

“Do you remember,” Roman says, swallowing a gulp of his drink, “that time we snuck into that club in Philadelphia? And you and Letha, just got, like absolutely abliderated on Long Island iced teas?” 

You smiled at the memory, your lips parting with glee the more you remembered about the night. 

“Yes! Oh my God, I had totally forgot about that.”

Roman had paid off some bouncer to let the three of you into some club downtown and it had been a spectacular night. You and Letha were guzzling drinks like it was the end of the world. Roman was only encouraging your recklessness with jokes and bankrolling the bottomless teas. Letha had danced on the bar top while singing you an off key Elton John song while you drunkenly squealed with glee in a hysterical Roman’s arms. You had never seen Roman laugh so much until that night. 

You all danced and drank and laughed and smiled. You had all hid in a corner as you had fished out cocaine from a baggy with your pinky nail, and held it to each Godfrey’s nose like you were giving them communion, before blessing yourself. 

You distinctly remember hanging off Roman like a kola most of the night. Giving him sloppy kisses and groping him in the crowd with whispered promises of more when you were alone. You remember him smiling down at you and always having a hand on your ass. You remember Letha’s happy screams and giggles and how she was twirling so much on the dance floor she tumbled. 

“That was a really good night.” You said. 

Roman nodded, “It was. It was one of those rare times I could get Letha out of her shell.” 

The mood dipped from happy memories to grief as his cousin's untimely death was remembered. It was written clear as day on Roman’s face that he was far from healed from her passing.

“I miss her, too.” You placed a hand on his. 

“Yeah. Life isn’t far, huh?” You saw he was trying to ward off a wash of emotion, not wanting to wallow in her death, because it wasn’t an easy pit to push himself out of. 

“No, it really isn’t.” 

If life was fair, Olivia would have been long deceased. Roman wouldn’t have ever been coerced to do any heinous acts. Letha would be alive. Shelley would have never vanished. 

You didn’t dare bring up his missing sister to Roman, because that pain was almost worse than the wound Letha’s death had inflicted. For the both of you. 

You had learned from Peter the previous day that Shelley was still missing with no leads in finding her. You had nodded but said nothing else and he had let you. 

You had always been close with Shelley. She was so kind and sweet, and incredibly understanding and thoughtful. You were the only two women Roman truly loved and that bonded you in a way, to be the only ones to have his unfettered devotion. The thought of Shelley, out in the world alone, scared and labeled a fugitive made you sick. You couldn’t think about it for long without your nausea sparking and tears forming in your eyes. 

“What I said to you… that night? That wasn’t fair either. It wasn’t fair of me to hurt you like that.” Roman says, his eyes cast down. 

“Roman, we don’t have to do this again. It’s fine, no worries.” You said as casually as possible. 

“No, but it really wasn’t,” Roman shakes his head and rotates his body toward you. 

“I said those things because I was scared, not because they were true. You have to know that.” 

You swallow thickly and nod. Rationally, you knew that was true. After Roman had explained to you yesterday the reason for his vicious one-eighty toward you, you knew that he was only being cruel to push you away. But the words still hurt, they were still brutal enough to feel like there was an ounce of truth to them. 

“I was wrong, I can see that now, yknow? I was really wrong for all of that,” Roman lamented, “I fucked up.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). That’s what I really want to say, what I really want you to know. And you know me, probably better than anyone in the world, maybe even more than I know myself,” He huffed a laugh, “And you know that I don’t apologize. Because I’m not wrong. I’m just not. I don’t say I’m sorry, not to anyone… but this, I gotta own up to. Because I was wrong for hurting you, pushing you away.”

You listened to Roman with baited breath. 

“You were the only person who ever really saw me. Looked into my eyes and saw past the bullshit and accepted me, loved me… and the idea of you hating me forever killed me, fucking killed me so much. But it was better than you sticking around and seeing that all that bullshit was true, and maybe I was even worse.” 

“Roman,” You rasped, gripping his hand tighter, your fingernails biting into his skin. 

“I promised to never hurt you, to protect you, keep you safe. And I failed.” 

Roman had always been protective of his loved ones. He hoarded them like a dragon with gold, prowling in front of them with bared teeth and spitting fury. You still remember the first time he pledged his devotion to you, his undying protection and loyalty. 

It was after the first time he had met your father. A dinner at the Godfrey mansion with your parents, Olivia, Shelley, yourself and Roman. It was an evening requested by Olivia to meet the parents of the girl who had bewitched her son. 

She had been her typical elitist self, turning her nose up at your middle class parents with joy. You were sure she was vibrating in her seat with happiness that she could feel so superior to your average parents. Likely hoping Roman would see this too, and kick you to the curb. 

You mother had been aimable, mostly quiet. You always thought of your mother as a very charming woman, who could talk to anyone no matter the circumstance. But, Olivia would barely let her get a word in, so she took the hint. Though, you could tell Shelley liked her, and that warmed your heart. 

The night’s conversation was dominated by Olivia for the most part, regaling the Godfrey wealth and stories of her privileged life. When she wasn’t boasting about herself, your father would be the one to chime in. Either with an offensive comment or with his poor table manners. It was like having a wild boar in the Shangri La and you felt your face heat with consistent humiliation. You could see your mother twitch uncomfortably across from you whenever he would act, and you knew she was in the same boat. 

You were already planning your apology to Roman when your father spoke up. You had been too busy stewing in your mortification to follow the conversation being had at the time. 

“Well, I tell you something, Roman. This one over here,” Your father stuck his fork over to you, “Isn’t gonna be a good little wife, not like your mother is.” 

Your father threw a smarmy grin to Olivia.

“You’re gonna have to wipe her into shape. Always wants to back talk and cross her damn arms and stomp her damn feet at you.”

Your father laughs and nuges your mother with his elbow, like he had made a joke. Like he thought this joke about you as Roman’s meek little wife would please Olivia and your boyfriend. 

Olivia laughed along and made a comment about her predisposition to wifehood because of her upbring, while Roman seethed. You could see his jaw flexing and hear the sound of his ragged breaths through his nose. You discreetly placed your hand on his lap, doing your best to calm him, but it did nothing as your father continued to make comments about your disrespectful personality, all with the cadence of a joke. 

“Why don’t you go out for a smoke?” Roman said to your father through gritted teeth. 

“Excuse me?” You father said, stopping mid sentence and glaring at Roman. 

“I said, why don’t you go out for a smoke and cool off? And when you come back, be a little fucking nicer?” 

Roman’s eyes bore into your father’s as he spoke. Your father looked furious at this teenage boy’s demand, and you were sure there was going to be a fight. Both men were incredibly hot headed, that this evening might even end in a physical altercation. But, your father just pushed up from the table and left the five of you in awkward silence. Roman relaxed once your father was gone, taking your hand from his lap and intertwining your fingers together on the tabletop. Your mother soon struck up a conversation with Olivia about the antique chaise lounge in the living room. 

Roman held your hand for the rest of the night. When your father returned, he stayed silent. 

When it was time for your parents to leave, Roman offered to drive you home. Though, the minute both you were out of sight of his home and your parents, he pulled over.

“Roman, I am so sorry about-” You began, but Roman stopped you by placing his hands firmly on your cheeks. 

“Don’t apologize. Not for that fucking man.” He said, his tone turning venomous when he mentioned your father. 

“The fucking nerve of him,” Roman spat, his hands tightening on your face, “The fucking nerve of him to speak like that about you. And to me! To me in my fucking home. I’m going to kill him, I’ll fucking kill him.” 

Roman spoke sincerely and you wondered for a moment if you asked him to kill your father, would he? 

“He’s not worth it, he’s not even worth your anger.” You sighed, placing your hand on his wrist and stroking his skin with your thumb. 

“He isn’t worth shit. That fucking cunt.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched your boyfriend speak obscenities. 

“What?” 

“You look very sexy when you’re this mad.” 

You could see Roman’s face visibly relax. You knew he was still angry, but your comment had placated him.     

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You grinned at him and began to lean in for a kiss when Roman stopped you. 

You looked into his eyes again and you saw this serious demoaner was back. 

“I will never let him say anything like what he said tonight to you again, OK? Never. I’ll never let him fucking touch you again,” Roman came to rest his forehead to yours, “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. I will keep you safe forever.” 

And you believed him. You believed him more than you had ever believed a single person in your life. There wasn’t an ounce of you in that moment that could argue with him. You trusted him fully. 

“Ok.” Was all you could say with the emotion that was brewing from his confession, before he finally pulled you to his lips. 

It was the first time you realized you loved him. 

“All I have ever wanted is to keep you safe.” He said it with the same vigor and sincerity that he had in his original vow to you in his car on the side of the road. 

And again, you couldn’t help but believe him. 

“I forgive you.” You really did. 

He was swathing you with the salve of love and honesty, healing the wounds he carved into your skin with his earnest. 

“You were scared, you had just had your life turned upside down… I get it. It’s OK. I’m not blameless either. I said some nasty things.” 

Roman looks up from where your hands are connected and gives you a signature fierce stare.

The weight of his gaze on you feels heavy as he leans forward to set his glass on the coffee table. His eyes never leave yours as he does. As he moves back to the couch, he uses his movement to his advantage to seamlessly reach out to cup your jaw, as he settled back next to you, much closer than before. 

Goosebumps bit across your flesh as the feeling of his broad palm engulfed your face and his breath began to fan across your lips. Roman was smooth, he was graceful and agile in everything he did. Everything including the set up to a kiss, especially a long awaited and important one. 

Roman glides his middle and forefinger up to cradle your ear, to anchor himself to you before using his thumb on the underside of your jaw to tilt your chin. You blood was rushing loudly through your ears and all you could think of was him as Roman’s other arm came to rest across the back of the sofa and ecase you in his arms. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip before he descended for yours. 

And you felt euphoric. A warmth in the pit of your stomach that only Roman would kindle.

Roman nuzzled his lips against your mouth, the tip of his nose brushing your own. Your hands migrated to lay purchase on his shoulders as you let Roman pull you impossibly close to his body. You could feel his heated cheeks against your face and you could feel his racing pulse beneath your fingers as he tipped your face up and opened his mouth into the kiss. His tongue dipped past your lips and you accepted him with a soft whimper. 

Your sound of pleasure surged Roman on as he began to kiss you harder. Sweeter. Messier. Hotter. Just like he always had. 

Soon, you were flat against the couch cushions, Roman above you as his hands explored your body. Your legs bracketed his hips, pushing the heels of your feet against the tops of his thighs to keep him snug against you. Your hands clutched his back tightly, the very same back you had been craving to get your hands on since you walked through the door. 

Roman’s lips detached from your own to drift to your cheeks, your jaw and your neck. To bite, to suck and lick with his sinful tongue. You keened and moaned at his attentions, your back arching into him. The spit he left in his wake met the air in a chilling exchange that cooled your fiery skin. 

“My baby,” He said to your skin. 

“My girl,” He groaned. 

“Mine,” He bit the junction of your neck and shoulder. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” 

You didn’t want to be present while listening to his possessions. You wanted to let them grip you and own you and continue to make your stomach flutter. You didn’t want to have to tell Roman right now that you didn’t know if you could be his again…

“You’re mine, always, always, always,” Roman moaned against you, his voice pornographically seductive. 

“Yes, please,” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but you just knew you didn’t want the feeling of Roman to stop. 

“It’s me and you, we’re together again, it’ll all be OK now,” He says before giving you another sloppy kiss. 

“Be with me, be here. We can make it work.” 

Roman goes back to attacking your neck with his petal soft lips, but you were finally snapped from your the haze of pleasure he had accosted you with. 

“Roman, hold on,” You pushed your hands on his shoulder, “Stop.” 

“What?” He pulled away from you quickly, chest heaving as he looked down at you. 

He looked so boyishly innocent. His lips flush from kissing and his once perfect hair askew from your ministrations. Eyes wide and questioning. He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. 

“I,” You took a pause, “I can’t stay here, Roman. I just can’t.” 

He looked like you’ve shocked him, stuck his finger in an electrical socket and watched. Roman pushed himself further up, but still hovered over you. 

“What do you mean you can’t stay?” He says your words back to you like they were a personal affront. 

“I live in New York now, that’s where my life is. I can’t just leave.” 

Roman’s jaw flexes and you watch him swallow. 

“What? So, this means nothing?” He gestures between your bodies. 

“No, of course not. Of course it means something.” You replied hastily. 

But, Roman was already getting up off of you and started to pace the length of his kitchen. You pushed up to watch him with concern. 

“I don’t know what you want me to do, I said I was sorry and I am. I really, truly am! So, why can’t you just stay with me? Be with me?” He argued. 

“I know you are! I do, but just because I know you’re sorry doesn’t change the fact that I have a life somewhere else now, Ro. I can’t just abandon it.” 

“Why can’t you? Just come home!” Roman threw his arms up in anger. 

“I don’t want to abandon it, Roman. I don’t want to leave. I like it there.” You move yourself onto your knees as you speak. 

“Jesus fucking-” Roman looked away from you and tugs at his hair, “I can’t believe you right now!” 

“Roman,” You sigh. 

“No! You know what? I have been declaring my fucking love for you for the past two days and that just means nothing to you? Because it doesn’t mean nothing to me.” 

“It means something-!” You begin, but Roman talks over you. 

“And that, that on the couch, that fucking meant something to me! Because you mean something to me, (Y/N). You always have and you always will.” He’s shouting now, if he had any neighbors you’re sure they would be able to hear. 

Your eyes filmed with tears as you watch him. 

“And fuck, while I’ve been going on like a bitch about how I love you, how I’m devoted to you, and you haven’t said shit! Not a word.” Roman’s eyes are beginning to wet as well. 

“Is that what this is? You don’t fucking love me?” His anger cracks as his voice quivers. 

“Roman, no!” You spring from where you knelt on the couch and rush to him, “I do, you know I do. I love you! I love you so much I ache.” 

You cry freely now as you try to clutch his face, but Roman brushes you off. 

“I love you, I have always loved you Roman. I always will. But,” 

“But what? How is that not enough!”

“I need you to love me enough to know there is nothing for me here.”

“Not even me?” His lip quivers. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Your hands shake and so does your breath, “I mean there is not real life for me here. You have The Tower and that’s you life, but what about me? What could I possibly do here that would make me happy?”

Roman says nothing, just swallows a hiccup that threatened to burst from his throat.

“I need you to love me enough to let me leave.”

Roman’s face crumbles into a drastic frown as he fights tears, “I can’t. I can’t do that, not again, I can’t. I can’t let you leave again.” 

“Baby,” You choke out. 

“No! I can’t, I love you. So, please, just love me enough to stay. I’ll give you everything you could ever want, anything you could ever dream of to make it better here.”

“Roman, I love you. I do, I always will. But, maybe this will be good for us. Have time apart to be our own people. I think it might even be healthy?” You say your last words with a watery smile that Roman doesn’t return. 

“I don’t want to have time apart. I had time apart from you and I was fucking miserable.” He states. 

The thought of Roman all alone in this house, heartbroken and stewing in pity and anger makes your heart convulse with pain. You thought of all the nights you slept in your dorm room, silent tears streaking your cheeks as you held your hand over your mouth in hopes to not wake your roommate. You wondered if on the nights you cried for him, if Roman had cried for you? Had he cried at all? Or while you were pouring yourself into your studies to forget him, he was fucking whores to forget you?

“Roman, please just… I love you, just please,” Again, you had no idea what you were begging for. For him to let you leave? For him to convince you to stay? All you knew was that this day had been so catosphroticlly emotionally draining and all you wanted was to fall into his arms for comfort.

“Do you want to be apart from me?” He asked bluntly. 

“Roman, just-” 

“Answer me. Do you want to be apart from me anymore?” 

Your mouth was thick with discarded tears and phlegm. All you could do was look at him and hope he understood you. To tell him you didn’t. 

His eyes softened and you knew your mental tether was still intact. 

Roman takes a step toward you and moves his head to be level with your own, “Then we’ll make this work. I’ll convince NYU to let you take online classes from here, OK? I’ll build them some new buildings - hell! A new campus. I’ll be their new biggest donor, their new favorite fucking person. I’ll give them whatever they want as long as they give me you in return.” 

“I can’t ask you to do that, Roman.” You look down at your feet. 

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” 

You pierce your teeth into your bottom lip and look back up at him. Back at Roman with his pink, glossy eyes and hopeful gaze. 

“I love the city…” 

“Then we’ll fly up every weekend, no exceptions. I’ll buy us a loft in the heart of Manhattan.You can design it to your heart’s content. Make it will feel warm and old and us. The opposite of this place.” Roman says quickly like he knew that would be your next rebuttal. 

You gasp a sob and close your eyes tight. You feel Roman close the distance between you both and cup your face in his large hands. 

“And we will figure the rest out, whatever else is holding you back. We’ll find you your dream job or your passion or whatever you want.” 

You crack your pulsing eyes, to see Roman’s face now streaked with tears. 

“Just tell me you’ll stay.”

You knew this was a risk. You knew he was a risk. You knew leaving New York and NYU sounded naive and utterly foolish to someone on the outside of your and Roman’s relationship. You knew that you would fight with him, that you would get angry with him, that he’d work too much and that he would have to reschedule trips to the city. You knew you would get irritated with each other and you’d say something snarky and Roman would say something mean. You knew there would be nights you went to bed angry and days where you gave each other the silent treatment. You knew it would be hard. Most things involving Roman were. Expect loving him.

You knew that even with all the bad that came with a relationship with Roman, it was eons better than being without him for a moment longer now that you had him again. 

You had wanted to look to the future, to forget the past and forge a new way for yourself. Truthfully, you still did. But maybe you could start over with Roman by your side? Wash away the pain of his indiscretions and learn and grow and heal together? You hoped you could. You hope you weren’t letting your overwhelming love for the man in front of you cloud your judgements. 

So, you placed your hands on his neck and watched his face turn hopeful and said: 

“Ok.”

i really wish i could say i loved this, but i am really on the fence about if this story is even good at all? it was better in my head. but! i hope you enjoyed it anyway and pllsss if you did, gimme some feedback <3 it makes me happy :-)

[roselightfairy]

On the topic of hurt/comfort fics, do we have any Gimli/Legolas hurt comfort fics where Legolas is the one that needs comforting? Like dealing with his sea-longing and needing snuggles or he's pushing himself too hard and Gimli needs to remind him to sleep/take care of himself because even the tireless have limits, or Legolas crying over anything in general and Gimli coming to the rescue?

All right, so there are a lot more of these out there than the Gimli ones. We as a fandom do love our Legolas whump, and it was tough to cut down this list – but I tried to go for more the emotional side of h/c, which is a favorite of mine for the two of them. (Gimli physically injured; Legolas in emotional distress – that’s where it’s at!) A physical h/c fic or two did slip in, though, so I divided these into three main sections: one that deals with sea-longing, one that deals with war-related trauma, and one “other” category. As a reminder, this is not a catch-all list – again, Legolas might well be the whole fandom’s favorite whumpee – but these are some of the ones that first popped up in my mind at your request.

Sea-longing:

and yet the sea calls (series) by Laura JV (jacquez)

Summaries: [Gimli/Legolas] loves, and yet the sea calls.

…

This is a set of lovely vignettes (two stories, one from Legolas’s perspective and one from Gimli’s) about learning to live and love with the sea-longing between them, and to find comfort in one another as best they can. These stories make me feel so very many feelings and are constant rereads when I want to feel the bittersweet (but mostly sweet!) that is their love.

A Beloved Ballast, an Untethered Soul by katajainen

Summary: Gimli has spent long months on the new gates of Minas Tirith, all the while waiting for Legolas to return to him from the North.

But when he does, it's clear the year has not been altogether kind to his husband.

…

This is one of my favorites of a lot of things – a wonderful, gentle reunion in Minas Tirith after their separation after the war, Legolas worn from sea-longing and finally finding home in his husband’s arm, warm comfort and some very romantic smut. Please read it; you will not regret it.

Everything That Mattered Is Dust by SerStolas

Summary: A decade ago, the One Ring was destroyed. A decade ago, Gimli and Legolas traveled together first to the Glittering Caves and then to Fangorn. A decade ago, both of them failed to admit their deeper emotions for each other. Now they meet again in Minas Tirith during renovations on the city. But not all is well with Legolas.

Inspired by Through the Ghost by Shinedown.

…

This is another lovely story with a similar theme to the previous – but without the established relationship, so we get a very sweet love confession instead. Very gentle and loving and satisfying; this gets me right in the hurt/comfort feelings. <3

Where You Go, I Will Go by UnnamedElement

Summary: Lady Galadriel's message was a riddle too twisted for a Wood-elf and a Dwarf to initially unwind... This is a story of a friendship fraught with mutual ignorance: the concessions a dwarf makes to an elf, and the choices that elf makes for their peculiar friendship. It is how Legolas and Gimli pass through the threat of death to find, together, a better truth. (March 2016 Teitho)

…

Look, I don’t know if this is hurt/comfort as such, but it certainly comforts ME to read. This is a lovely little exploration of the sea-longing and how it changes Legolas and Gimli’s friendship – and in fact brings them closer together. It’s gen, nominally, but it’s so tender you won’t miss the romance (and I feel comfortable saying that because of multiple conversations with @unnamedelement on the subject!).

The Language of Power by Thewriternumber19238478356

Summary: It's the night before the march on the Black Gate. But sea-longing won't let Legolas sleep. Gimli offers him a secret dwarven practice that might just be the solution…

…

This is an underappreciated and really wonderful story, but contains some non-sexual BDSM, so be warned for that. It’s extremely tender and plays with the notion of power in dominance/submission with respect and love for the practice and the characters. It’s archive-locked, so you’ll need an account to read it, but I really do have such love for this story and I highly recommend it.

War-related:

A Night Beclouded by katajainen

Summary: Night falls after the fighting is done on the Pelennor Fields. For those left alive, it should be an hour for respite, for catching one's breath.

But there is the kind of darkness that seeps under one's skin, the kind not born of mere absence of sunlight, and this is not a time to be alone.

…

This is such quiet, atmospheric tenderness – comforting someone after a nightmare is such a wonderful trope, and @katajainen does it with all her usual sensitivity and care. A bit of pre-relationship sweetness and warm comfort – and honestly, it was a struggle to keep it to two fics by katajainen on this list; please go read all her stories!

Shared Spaces by mssileas

Summary: I know you think I'm a little different But I'm still somebody's son.

The night before marching on the Black Gate, neither of them can sleep.

…

Okay, so I adore this fic. I have a soft spot for any fics that focus on how Legolas must feel about Sauron and the origin of orcs, and this is a wonderful fic that deals with those ideas, as well as pre-battle anxiety, and Legolas and Gimli taking comfort in one another. Lots of lovely hand-touching and some very sweet kissing, too. <3

A time and times and half a time by Honesty

Summary: AU. Legolas, imprisoned by Saruman, discovers *exactly* how Orcs were made .... While Gimli keeps a vigil he will never forget.

…

Similar themes as the last one, though taken WAY over the edge past hurt/comfort and into serious hurt territory. Be careful with this one, because there’s a lot of pain for Legolas – warning for physical and psychological torture - but the love between him and Gimli is so powerful and all-consuming, it carries the story and provides the much-needed comfort at the end, though you’ll probably still be aching.

Comfort after Endurance by spinel

Summary: The battle of Helm's Deep takes its toll on Legolas. A stolen moment between the end of the battle at Helm's Deep and riding to Isengard.

…

Pre-relationship sweetness, comfort after battle. This one skirts the lines of physical and emotional hurt/comfort, combining the two with the soothing effect of touch and closeness after great trials. Lots of tender handling of one another – no explicit relationship content, but definitely little hints of more to come here and there. ;)

Other:

inkstains by apricae

Summary: Legolas isn't much good at reading, and an attempt at a learning his letters with Gimli turns into a revelation.

(Or: The one in which Legolas is dyslexic and sad, Gimli is a very good husband, and Dwarves are a lot better than Elves at handling disabilities.)

…

I am very big on neurodivergent Legolas in all its forms, and I love this dyslexic-Legolas headcanon a lot. Emotional distress and childhood trauma – but luckily, Legolas has a very kind, loving dwarf husband to talk him down and help him through.

Tainted Meat by lynndyre

Summary: On the road between Helm's Deep and Isengard, mistakes are made with supplies.

For the BloodyValentine prompt: someone feeds orc food to an elf, making them really sick.

…

This is one of my favorite underappreciated fics out there – I find that it really gets the way Legolas and Gimli are portrayed once they start meeting up with armies and other men: they are a bubble of two, responsible for one another’s comfort and supporting one another without question. In this fic, Legolas (and half the Rohirrim) are struck with food poisoning, and while the men deal with the aftermath, Legolas is so very much Gimli’s charge, and it’s so tender and lovely and wonderful. Gen, nominally, but it gets the particular something between them in canon that I so love. (It also fits with a line Gimli says in Two Towers about refusing to touch any orc supplies!)

 Teeth Like Knives by Evandar

Summary: Gimli wasn't expecting to have to stitch Legolas back together after their first attempt at lovemaking, but now that the initial shock has worn off, he can't say that he's surprised.

…

This is part of a larger series that involves half-orc Legolas, and all of it has some very wonderful emotional hurt/comfort. But this is my favorite of the series because of how good and gentle and wonderful Gimli is with Legolas’s existential crises and hurting himself on accident. Please do mind the tags, since this subject matter may not be for everyone, but I adore the sensitivity with which these topics are handled and reread this for comfort. <3

…

As always, if you enjoy any of these fics, please let the author know with a comment if you have capacity! Also, I encourage you to reblog this list so that we can spread the good word. :)

[hitchell-mope]

Piggybacking off my post from yesterday

Allow me to add some possible context to the lines that could destroy us in season two

For this I’m picturing it as the lead up to Alex’s UE esque solo. Something reminds him of his parents. And he gets an anxiety attack. And this is all after a confrontation with Caleb!Nick where he says something about “ridding myself of the boy whe he’s of not further use to me” which brings back really bad memories of the last full conversation he had with his parents leading to the “no kid should ever be thrown away” line. And then his big emotional solo happens

Of course Willie’s soul breaking line is directed at Caleb. Full on the knees begging and crying here, the side of his head buzzing with light. Caleb naturally refuses and leaves Willie there wracked with sobs on the floor of the dark room

Here I’m thinking that it’s the anniversary of her mother’s death. That coupled with the whole “former crush being possessed” dealio leaves Julie feeling incredibly drained emotionally leading to the “it feels just like last time” line

Let’s say Caleb!Nick told Carrie everything. The plagiarism, the hotdogs, the ghost. She’s not upset. Just. Disappointed. And she says the line like it’s just one of her barbs at Julie and Flynn. Cruel and callous. No tears. Just disownment. And she joins Caleb feeling he’s the only one she can trust

What if Caleb tires of Nick? What if he decides Julie is the stronger target? What if Ray wakes up to find her gone and Nick passed out on the patio? While Nick is tearfully apologising for the hurt he’s caused Ray forgives him and just implores him to try and think of where Caleb might’ve gone using Julie as a meat suit

The lead up to Reggie’s own solo. Reminiscing on his life with his parents after finding out one of them recently died. He didn’t have a horrible life. But unless he actually approached them or he got hurt they didn’t really pay much attention to him. Leading to his “invisible existence” which he was ok with. But he just wishes they could stop the fighting for ten minutes and watch Star Wars with him

Either Caleb!Nick or Caleb!Julie says this to the boys. Obviously referring to his grand plan as a dark reprise to his secondary song in season one. Probably as the cliffhanger to episode eight. You know. When the shit really starts to hit the fan

Naturally this is Trevor apologising to the boys for plagiarising their works. Definitely a genuine apology. Could absolutely be made sadder by one or all of the ghosts flatly refusing him and leaving him to live with his soul crushing guilt

Not as sad as the others but here I’m imagining Carlos, half asleep, either Luke or Reggie or both fulfilling their new “older brother” roles and putting him to bed and him kind of just absentmindedly asking them if they could look for his mother. And of course they say yes because the alternative is letting him cry himself to sleep

Now. Imagine a recurring gag in season two is Luke and Julie trying to decide on nicknames for each other. Julies settled on beanie boy for Luke. But Luke has several in rotation for her, human wrecking ball, boss, butterfly, glitter girl. You know the usual. And they finally decide on “angel voice”. Then julies possessed by Caleb. And Luke figures out a way to free her. But at an incredibly steep cost. So he hugs her, holds her face in his hands, in an exact parallel to their scene in stand tall, says “goodbye angel voice. I’m sorry”. And let’s himself with willingly possessed by Caleb. Ending season two on the family reunion of all cliffhangers

A lot of these are dependant on. A. Lore. B. If ghosts can possess other ghosts like they can with humans. And. C. Should Netflix get their fucking act together and renew the sodding show. And even then any of these happening is a major long shot. But I really wanted to add some context to my previous post. So. Enjoy

[starglossie]

bokuto/ushijima - g - 4.7k - it’s the simple things

Bokuto asks, “You know Ushiwaka, right?”

“... I do.” Kiyoomi folds his arms. “Why?”

“Is he single?” Bokuto blurts out.

There’s silence for a few minutes and then all Bokuto hears is Atsumu howling, “Holy fucking shit, what?”

can be read here on ao3 and below under the cut

Bokuto likes to consider himself a simple fellow. This isn’t meant to be taken in a bad way either. Simplicity is not bad. What he takes it as, of course, is that it doesn’t take much for him to determine what he enjoys and what he can really do without.

For example, he loves volleyball. That is his blood and sweat and tears. It’s his first inhale when he wakes up and his last exhale before he sleeps. He loves Yakiniku. Beef is quite literally the best.

He loves words but spelling them is another matter. Well, he doesn’t dislike spelling. He thinks it’s rather fun to figure out what letters go where. To double check with someone—usually Akaashi because Akaashi was so brilliant that Bokuto was happy he could always turn to his best friend with questions and receive the answers he was looking for—about whether or not receive was spelled r-e-c-i-e-v-e or r-e-c-e-i-v-e.

He doesn’t get taxes. Though he figures that’s not something people usually get, they just do. He’d rather not do them, if he had it his way. Then again, being a good citizen also has its perks. Like no jail time.

And he doesn’t think he’d do too well in jail. Well, maybe at first.

To circle to the point of this! Because there’s a point. Do not think there was nothing to gain from this ramble. No, no. You see, when it comes to relationships—do not question the connection between taxes and meat and volleyball and relationships, because it’s there even if one cannot see it because Bokuto knows it’s there—Bokuto is pretty simple.

Again, simple isn’t meant to be a bad thing.

Simple in the way that Bokuto likes people for who they are and whatever it is they wish to be. Simple in the way that Bokuto doesn’t quite get romance, he can figure it out along the way as he normally does, but he knows when he wants someone. When he wants something. And whenever he’s wanted something, he’s always gone for it. Again, simple. If he wants it, why stop himself from having it? If he wanted someone, why stop himself from having them?

Of course, when things get complicated. He understands that. He realizes just because he wants something badly enough doesn’t mean it’ll always find a spot nestled in-between the love-lines of his palms. Doesn’t mean they’ll create a nest and nestle themselves within his ribcage, right by his heart, the birdhome for their fluttering rings to take rest.

But really, when things are simple. It doesn’t take much for Bokuto to find a reason to pursue someone.

/

It’s the warm up before their big game against the Adlers.

Bokuto’s been looking forward to this game all month because it’s basically one giant reunion! He gets to play with his prodigy, Shouyou. And he gets to show off his wicked spikes set from TsumTsum. And he gets to witness Omi-kun’s nasty southpaw spin.

Not only that but the Adlers have Kageyama and Hoshiumi and Ushiwaka! It’s a whole party as far as Bokuto’s concerned.

“AH YEAH!” Bokuto feels the beautiful sing of his spike ring across the volleyball court. The ball connects with a thunder clap on the other side. His arm feels good. That swing had the right power. And that set? “TsumTsum!” Bokuto flashes Atsumu with two, big thumbs up. “That was an amazing set! You gotta do that like, every time today okay?”

“Hey, you’ll like whatever set I give ya!” Atsumu’s grinning, though. Which means Bokuto delivered exactly how he was supposed to for Atsumu’s standards, and then some.

“Bokuto-san, that was soooo good!” Hinata shouts from behind. He’s stretching with Kiyoomi, who’s currently in the longest split Bokuto’s ever seen.

“Thank you, Shou! I’m gonna do that all game, so watch out!”

“Big talk,” Kiyoomi responds as he extends his body all the way to his right foot to stretch. God he’s so bendy. Like a bendy straw. Bokuto wonders if he had any bones or if he was just jelly and muscle and bendy stuff. “Our bet’s still on, Bokuto-san.”

“Hell yeah. I didn’t forget at all. I want beef! Lots of beef, Omi-kun!”

“You haven’t won yet.”

“I mean, for when I do.”

“Oi, enough chit chat.” Atsumu takes up another ball which means another set was coming. “We’re not done warming up.”

“Right right!” Bokuto gets ready for the set. He’s ready for it when a giant thunk resounds throughout the court.

Everyone’s heads turn just in time to catch no one other than Ushijima Wakatoshi receive a volleyball straight to the head. It was the most beautiful thing Bokuto’s ever been able to witness in his twenty-three years of life. Ushijima didn’t even stutter. He barely quivered. He took the ball to the head with so much grace and power.

Bokuto clutched his chest. Felt a horribly loud, wonderful ache. The way his blood would pump and his heartbeat would pulse whenever he was about to serve. Or whenever he got close enough to a dog to pet.

It was an enjoyment. It was a like.

“That was so hot…” Bokuto murmurs as he watches the Adlers coach rush over to check on Ushijima who, for all intents and purposes, seems to be okay…

Bokuto grins. Then turns his attention back to Atsumu who’s doubled over with laughter and tears in his eyes. It takes about three minutes for him to calm down but when he does, they don’t miss a beat with their sets and spikes.

The synergy of setter and spiker carries them through the game, and it’s enough to give them the win once it’s all said and done.

“You lost the bet,” Kiyoomi says in the locker room after their coach finished congratulating them on a game well played.

Bokuto wipes his face off with his towel, “Mmm. Yeah, I did.” It’s not a bad outcome. All he has to do is ask the mascot to borrow his Jackal suit for a video. And… find a bikini big enough to fit over the suit. But that’s not really important right now. Gold eyes flicker up to meet Kiyoomi, eager and full of wonder. Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow and Bokuto asks, “You know Ushiwaka, right?”

“... I do.” Kiyoomi folds his arms. “Why?”

“Is he single?” Bokuto blurts out.

There’s silence for a few minutes and then all Bokuto hears is Atsumu howling, “Holy fucking shit, what?”

-

Ushijima Wakatoshi is incredibly single.

This puts Bokuto in a stellar good mood as he makes a beeline for the Adlers locker room.

He gets a few hellos, a couple of questioning looks as he all but storms through. But that’s fine! Because he’s on a mission. A not so secret mission because now half his team knows that he’s interested in Ushiwaka and wants to take him out.

“Because he took a volleyball straight to the head?” Atsumu was on the floor, near death, from laughing so hard his spleen nearly exploded.

“No no that was really cool,” Hinata said on the bench, fists clenched in solidarity for his mentor. “I for sure thought he was gonna die!”

“He brings a new definition to the word hard headed…” Kiyoomi said though Bokuto couldn’t tell if it was said in a derogatory way or in a awe-wow-that’s-so-cool kinda way. So he decided it was both.

His teammates cheered him on to propose, well no. Proposition? Hm, no. Not the right word either. He was going to propel himself (yeah, that felt right) into the Adlers locker room and into Ushijima’s face and ask a very simple question.

“Ushiwaka!” Bokuto hollers as he finds the man in question step from around the corner. Fresh out the shower with his hair dripping wet and a towel hanging low on his hips.

Ushijima locks eyes with Bokuto and wow, he really was handsome up close. There’s even a red spot from when the volleyball had hit him on the head! Still there! God, that was so cool…

“Bokuto Koutarou,” Ushijima replies. And wow, he even made Bokuto’s name sound important and serious.

Bokuto shivers and takes a step forward. “Do you wanna go out with me?”

Kageyama, who was sitting on the bench at the end, spits out his sports drink.

Hoshiumi shoots up like a rocket, “No way! No waaaaaaaaay!”

Ushijima blinks, “Out where?”

“On a date, of course.” Bokuto’s never been shy. He’s never been fearful. Not really. There was nothing wrong with putting yourself out there. The worst thing Ushijima can say is no. Before, when he was younger, Bokuto would be utterly devastated from the rejection. Now though, if Ushijima were to say no he’d take it in stride and at least try for a friendship, if anything.

What he doesn’t expect, though it’s not a bad thing, is Ushijima’s second blink followed by, “Why?”

Bokuto shrugs, “I liked seeing you take that volleyball to the face. That was really cool and kinda hot. So I figured I’d ask ya out on a date! Cause I received a ball with my chest before and I know how that feels!”

Ushijima nods as if that makes sense (it does, because Bokuto knows Ushijima gets what he meant by that. The power and hunger to keep the ball in play no matter what had to be done to do so). He doesn’t say anything after that and for a minute Bokuto wonders if the rejection is coming now. But then Ushijima sticks out his hand in front of Bokuto and goes:

“Alright.”

And Bokuto gets utter chills as he grabs his hands and shakes it for all its worth.

“It’s a date! I’ll text ya the details—wait, I need your phone number. Then I’ll text you the details.”

“I have to tell Sachiro about this…” Hoshiumi makes a beeline for his phone.

Kageyama has some gatorade on the side of his mouth as he says, “Is… is nearly getting a concussion attractive?”

Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, Kageyama.

/

Thanks to Akaashi, Bokuto’s dressed decently for his date.

“No, those colors don’t match.”

“But this is my favorite shirt and pants!”

“Okay but they can be worn separately, not together. Wear that green shirt. The one you bought for Konoha’s party.”

“Oh yeah! The green shirt! That one with these black pants?”

“That works.”

“Kaashi you’re the best!”

So now, he’s standing at the planned meeting spot for Ushijima to arrive. He’s about fifteen minutes early but that’s okay because then he got the joy of seeing Ushijima from the crowd, spotting him, and getting to wave him over and everything. Bokuto hums to himself as he waits. Excitement barely being able to describe the giddiness through his system. It’s equal parts nerves but not bad nerves. And equal parts serotonin from the spontaneity of it all.

After they exchanged numbers two weeks ago they texted everyday. Ushijima is a really good texter! Bokuto likes how thoughtful Ushijima is with responses. Bokuto knows he has a lot to say and he can take over a conversation pretty easily, sometimes without even realizing it. But Ushijima doesn’t make him feel bad for taking up space. For talking and talking, even when a million things hit his brain at once. Ushijima notices all the million of things and responds to them in earnest.

It’s nice. It’s a warm feeling. A fuzzy sun in the solar plexus of Bokuto’s chest that stretches out it’s lazy sun rays all across Bokuto’s body.

When he spots Ushijima in the crowd, he doesn’t hold back his yell.

“USHIWAKA! HERE!”

Ushijima looks left and right before his gaze lands on Bokuto and Bokuto feels a zap.

The crowd looks as Ushijima strides over to him. Not wearing a cap or anything. A few people notice him and ask him to take a picture or try to say hi. He stops. Freezes. Makes eye contact with Bokuto and Bokuto makes a move.

“Hey everyone! Yes, it’s Ushijima but it’s also me, Bokuto! We’re about to hang out and we have lunch reservations. Can we quickly take pictures and maybe another time we can chat and talk?” He smiles, the one smile Akaashi said could charm a mass murderer to put down their weapon. Which was kind of a cool superpower now that Bokuto thought about it but he would rather take a mass murderer out with his fists than his smile…

That appeases the crowd. They take a few pictures. Sign a kid’s volleyball (which Ushijima was happy to do, Bokuto peeps from the side as Ushijima goes “You like volleyball?” and the kid responds, “Yeah! Watching you made me love it!” and it’s the tiniest smile Bokuto’s seen but gosh the warmth it creates in his chest. Atsumu would say he’s ‘down bad’ and perhaps he is! But it’s not so bad to be so… down? He’ll work that out later) and then, after both of them got lost on the way to their destination, finally reached their destination.

“So this cafe is cool cause it’s run by one of my buddies I met once when I was on a run.” Bokuto explains ripping apart his chopsticks so he can dig into his bowl of ramen. “Right ok so I was running and I was super hungry because I forgot to eat before my run and this guy goes ‘Oh you’re hungry? You like ramen?’ And I said ‘Literally ramen is one of my fifty favorite bowls of things to eat that comes in a bowl’ and he goes ‘Well you’re in for a good bowl then’ and bam,” Bokuto takes a long slurp of thick, soaked noodles. They’re just as warm and delicious and soothing as they were the first time he tried this place’s ramen, “I’m here like almost once a week now.”

Ushijima takes his chopsticks apart slowly. He is much more, hm, not delicate? More… controlled? Yeah! Controlled! With his movements. While Bokuto is all in, engines raring, full steam ahead with devouring, Ushijima takes his time. He savors his noodles. And Bokuto leans forward, eyes wide, blinking owlishly as he waits for his reaction.

Ushijima swallows his noodles and stares back at Bokuto for several seconds.

“Is it good?” Bokuto asks because he hates silences.

Ushijima nods, “It’s good.”

Bokuto fist pumps the air, “Yes! Ah, I’m so glad you like it! Cause if you didn’t, I’d be sad.”

“Why would you be sad?”

“Cause, ya know,” he takes another round of noodles and slurps it for good measure. “When you’re showing the person you like something you like, you want them to like it too. Or you hope that they like it. So they can experience the same joy you feel about that thing. And then it’s kinda like we’re connected now. Like this noodle connects us,” Bokuto holds up a lone noodle in between his chopsticks and then slooooooooops it into his mouth.

Ushijima looks like he’s taking apart all of Bokuto’s words. Carefully considering their meaning, their methods, and their madness. Finally, he goes. “You like me.”

It’s not a question.

Bokuto grins, “I do!”

“We’ve barely spoken.”

“Yeah that’s what Omi-kun said too when I asked if you were single.” He catches the way Ushijima’s eyes rise slightly at that. And he keeps going because Bokuto Koutarou has never had anything to lose before, and he certainly wouldn’t have it today. “But I mean, like I said. You received that ball with your forehead Ushiwaka.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know!” Bokuto laughs and he says, “Wait. Sorry. I’m not laughing at you.”

Ushijima’s eyebrows grow this adorable wrinkle between them. “You didn’t have to clarify.”

“I know but like, I also just wanted to let you know my laugh isn’t making fun of you because I feel like giving the situation, it may come off that way! So I wanted to make sure you knew. Because I would like that.” Now he’s rambling, and he knows that. But he hopes Ushijima understands what he’s trying to say. It’s such a small thing, but Bokuto’s known the cruelty of seemingly innocent gestures that were more devilish than angelic.

After a while, Ushijima’s crinkle goes away. He nods, slowly, and he says. “I appreciate the consideration.”

Bokuto’s lips pull into a smile, bright and a little crooked.

“So yes, I like you.” Bokuto continues. “Even though we’ve barely spoken. And even though it all came from me seeing you receive that ball to your head. But I also decided we should go on a date, cause I’m interested in you. And I wanna get to know ya more.”

“I’m not interesting.”

“That’s not true!” Bokuto leans forward. “You were the number one ace in Miyagi Prefecture and ranked among the country's top three aces! That’s so epic!” Bokuto leans forward, folding his arms across his chest. “I used to be up there too with ya’ll but I was really inconsistent so I couldn’t stay there permanently.”

Ushijima nods, “I remember watching a few of your games. Your emotions get the better of you.”

“That they did! Or well, they still do.” Ushijima’s bluntness does not add salt to wounds. Rather, it’s refreshing. Bokuto enjoys the bluntness. Because it’s not wrong. Bokuto’s emotions had gotten the better of him when he was younger. He was better at managing them now. At learning how to let himself feel but not get overwhelmed. What was the word for it… coping! “But not so much anymore. Cause I realized I’m just an ace, ya know?”

“Just an ace,” Ushijima repeats. Bokuto waits to see if he’ll get that too. If he’ll understand what Bokuto means because not many people can understand it. “You’ll deliver no matter what.” It's a sweet sigh of relief, the feeling of a cold shower after a hot day, and Bokuto nods vigorously.

“Yeah! Yeah! Exactly!”

They eat some more and Bokuto asks about California a bit more. Ushijima mentions how California was surprising. He ran into Iwaizumi Hajime and he got to meet with his father. How California was a weird place, but not in a bad way.

“Did you get to play volleyball a lot?”

“Yes.”

“That’s awesome. I’ve always wanted to go to the states. Would you go back?”

“I would.”

“Oh, maybe we could go together! Ah, wait.” Bokuto raises a hand. “That’s forward. I’m sorry. This is literally just our first date.”

“We can go.”

Bokuto’s jaw drops, “What? Really? Wait,” Bokuto feels like he needs to connect some dots. “Ushiwaka, can I ask a question?”

Ushijima frowns, “You never stopped to ask a question before. Why ask now?”

“Cause I just wanna clarify! You know, when I say I like ya—it’s cause I wanna like, date ya. Or see if you’d be down for dating. Or like, you know. Potentially being boyfriends?”

“I see.”

“Oh thank God. Wait, you see what?”

“I was under the impression you wanted to hang out.”

“I mean, yes! But also, not just hang out. Like, we would be hanging out but maybe sometimes hold hands?”

“How are you sure that after this you would want to hang out with me more? Or at all. I’m not…” Ushijima pauses, as if to consider what to say next, “like you.”

“Duh,” Bokuto says. “I don’t want you to be. The dates are so we can get to know each other. Cause we don’t. And that’s why I ask ya a bunch of questions! Cause I’m interested in ya. I can also be more blunt if you’d like.”

“Blunt would be good.”

“Okay well I think you’re incredibly handsome. Like, when I saw you today my heart raced cause you looked really good. The red varsity jacket over the green v-neck?” Bokuto nods towards Ushijima’s outfit and grins, “it’s a really good look. You’re really cute.”

Bokuto waits for Ushijima’s reaction. To see if he’s said too much or just enough. He watches as Ushijima’s cheeks color red and his ears catch on fire. He coughs, and covers his mouth with his hand. Eyes darting to the side, before coming back to meet Bokuto. He coughs again. He lowers his hand.

“Thank you,” he says. “I’m not sure how else to respond.” Another moment, “You’re bluntness is. Yes.”

“Thanks,” Bokuto feels incredibly pleased with himself. He happily finishes his bowl of ramen and then asks for the drink menu so they can figure out what they'd want. “Do you drink?” He asks as the waiter comes by with their menus.

“Occasionally.”

“Awesome. Show me what you like to drink! We can order that.”

“I’m not really particular.”

“That’s okay. You can choose whichever one speaks to you. I’ll enjoy anything you get us.”

Ushijima fixes Bokuto with a look, “Bokuto Koutarou.”

“That’s me.”

“You’re very strange.”

Bokuto’s smile ticks at the ends, “So I’ve been told.”

“I’m sorry. That’s. Not in a bad way. In a good way. Like your bluntness.”

“Thank you,” and the solar flare in his chest grows a little warmer as the waiter comes back and they put in their drink orders.

It’s a good night after that.

/

“You really went on a date with him?”

Bokuto finishes his last rep with an exhale. Sweat’s on his brow as he stares at Kiyoomi in front of him. They’re at the gym on their day off. Conditioning and working out so they could be ready for practice tomorrow.

Bokuto gets up so Kiyoomi can take his spot and says, “Yup. I know you’re dying to hear the details.”

“I’d rather be dead than hear the details.”

“Oh Omi-kun! That was a good way with my words!” Bokuto claps and Kiyoomi rolls his eyes so far back into his skull Bokuto’s afraid they’ll get stuck there. “I mean, I don’t have to share if you don’t wanna hear but…” Bokuto sighs, pretending to be forlorn. Looking off towards the distance as if he’s waiting for his lover to come back home. “I haven’t gotten the chance to tell Kaashi about it cause he’s been busy with work and I really would like to talk about it…”

Kiyoomi looks like he’d rather eat a rotten onigiri ball than hear about Bokuto’s love life but then, because underneath all his grouch Kiyoomi’s a really nice dude (or well, maybe nice is too strong a word… let’s say he’s capable of human decency on a good day) Kiyoomi goes, “You have until I finish my reps to talk about it.”

Bokuto takes the bone like a dog, “Okay so the date was great!” He starts and then he goes on about how Ushijima is really cool and thoughtful and their conversation was never boring or had an awkward tilt and that he feels like they had a really good first date.

“Do you wanna know if we kissed?” Bokuto waggles his eyebrow.

Kiyoomi grunts as he goes through a rep, “No.”

“Well that’s good ‘cause we didn’t! But,” Bokuto looks at the palm of his right hand as if it’s a rare jewel. “We did hold hands. I’m a shy guy you know, Omi-kun. I can’t just kiss on the first date… and I don’t think Ushiwaka woulda been comfy with that either!”

Kiyoomi grunts again, “Such a gentleman you are.”

Bokuto chuckles, “I know. I’m great. Anyways!” He knows he’s got only about less than a minute to finish his story before Kiyoomi tunes him out. “We’re going on a second date next week. The Adlers have a few away games and that’s gonna make him busy but we’re gonna text and call and stuff while he’s away! And then do a virtual movie night which is fun cause we both have the same taste in movies!”

“What a surprise.”

“I know! That’s what I said!”

Kiyoomi finishes his set and that signals Bokuto about his time running out. Which was fine and good because he said all he wanted to say. Kiyoomi pants, catching his breath and running a hand through his hair. He fixes Bokuto with a look that Bokuto assumes is to figure out whether or not he’ll say something grouchy or something moderately decent.

“You know. I didn’t think you two would get on so well. I’m glad it seems to be working better than anticipated.”

“... Omi-kun,” Bokuto sniffles, feeling tears in his eyes. Kiyoomi twists his face up in disgust and bolts upright from the machine.

“No. No tears.” He starts power walking through the gym and Bokuto is right on his heels with happy tears down his face and his arms out wide.

“Omi-kun, you’re the best!! Omi-kun!”

“GO AWAY BOKUTO-SAN!”

/

“... And then I told Kaashi he should ask out Osamu because I’ve seen Osamu checking out Kaashi when he thinks it’s not noticeable but jokes on him, I totally see it.”

“You have a good eye.”

“I do! And then Kaashi was like super worried. And when he worries he likes to overthink the craziest scenarios like: ‘What if I ask out Miya-san and a meteorite falls onto the shop’?”

“I don’t think meteorites eat rice balls.”

Bokuto throws his head back with laughter, rolling onto his back on the bed with his phone held high above so he could see Ushijima. He laughs so hard he’s sure his neighbors can hear. But he doesn’t care. Because Ushijima was so fucking funny.

He wipes the tears from his eyes, staring at Ushijima’s confused look at the screen. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at ya. I was laughing because you’re right, meteorites wouldn’t like rice balls a bit I think.”

“So he has nothing to worry about,” is Ushijima’s sound conclusion.

“Exactly! I’ll let Kaashi know you think so too and tell him to go for it.” Bokuto turns onto his side, so he can hold the phone a little closer. So he can feel like he’s tucked into bed with Ushijima by his side. “Hey, Ushiwaka,” he says with a yawn.

“Are you getting tired?” Ushijima asks, concern laced at the ends of his words. “It’s late. We can call again tomorrow.”

“Nuh uh. Not yet,” Bokuto shakes his head. “Just wanted to say it’s nice talking to you and stuff… getting to know ya… and stuff. Are you also enjoying this? What we’re doing?”

“Does it look like I’m not?” Ushijima’s brows wrinkle in the way Bokuto was learning meant Ushijima was worried something he said or did had come across negatively. He’s quick to reassure, because he gets that fear. He understands that worry. And he hates having to deal with it himself. He’d never want anyone else to have to feel that way because of him, especially Ushijima.

“No no, not at all. I just wanted to know how you were feeling as all! And I wanna hear if you’re liking this too.” For purely selfish reasons. Because while Bokuto is a simple creature, he also craves the satisfaction of reciprocation. Of knowing this is worth it, and that he is not alone in this feeling of a crater being scraped in his heart that’s shaped like Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Ushijima’s crinkle disappears. There’s some shuffling and Bokuto smiles as he sees Ushijima is also laying on his side, facing Bokuto. It feels like they’re both in the same bed, facing one another. So close their knees touch. So close their breaths could intermingle. Close enough to feel right.

“Yes,” comes Ushijima’s quiet confessions. “I’m enjoying this as well. Thank you for asking.”

“Thank you for answering, Ushiwaka,” and the solar flare grows. It’s such a simple answer. It’s such a simple response. But Bokuto’s a simple man. Pleased by the simplicity of Ushijima’s earnestness and the sincerity of his words. He yawns again, “Alright. I think with that, I can sleep soundly tonight! We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yes,” Ushijima says, and then he goes, “I’m looking forward to it.”

Bokuto’s near tears, “Yes! Same! Same!” He squeezes his phone so tight it might burst. If his heart doesn’t do so first. “Okay. Okay that was so cute. You are so cute. Good night, Ushiwaka! Talk to you tomorrow!”

“Goodnight, Bokuto Koutarou.”

The call ends and Bokuto’s in darkness. He brings his phone to his lips and he feels the heat on his cheeks. The rush under his skin.

He’s a simple man. But that’s not such a bad thing—not at all.

[secret-rendezvous1d]

comfy comfort shows & movies u can watch to fill The Void™

hello! i’m from the uk and i’m going back to college next month, for my second year, the first time i won’t be without my boyfriend, so i wanted to offer up some of my favourite things to watch that help fill the void when i miss him, and help me feel more positive. i haven’t left any links to where u can find them as both of these are on british tv or u can find them on youtube, and im sure there’s more things out there, but i don’t have netflix lol. enjoy!! - ariel 😘

• tv shows •

“friends”

“the goldbergs”

“schooled”

“the big bang theory”

“everybody loves raymond”

“fixer upper”

“gordon ramsay’s 24 hours to hell and back”

“barefoot contessa" 

"the pioneer woman”

“brooklyn 99”

“hollyoaks”

“my lottery dream home" 

"shameless us”

“peaky blinders" 

"downtown abbey" 

"gavin & stacey”

• movies •

“pretty woman”

“dirty dancing”

“home alone” (1&2)

“meet the fockers”

“deck the halls”

“bridget jones’ diary”

“bridget jones the edge of reason”

“bridget jones’ baby”

“13 going on 30”

“the holiday”

“love actually”

“mother’s day”

“mamma mia”

“legally blonde”

every single “harry potter” movie

“cheaper by the dozen” (1&2)

“father of the bride” (1&2)

“love, simon”

imma add a few youtubers as well jus bc

+ zoe sugg (her vlogs with mark always make me smile and laugh and hearing her jus chat away is so lovely)

+ dan and phil (these two dweeps, esp they’re gaming vids always make me die laughing)

+ markiplier (my boyfriend n me recently sat and watched a series of his n he holds a v special place w my heart lol) 

anybody can add to this, and I’m sure I’ll find more. I’ll be sure to update if I do! 

hopefully this fills holes for ppl that are stressed and worried n jus need their mind taken off summat or they jus wanna watch summat easy while studying or bathing or jus settling down for the evening 

- ariel 😘

--

This right here is a godsend! 

Thank you for this; I’m always on the lookout for some new stuff so I can imagine others go through the struggle of not being about to find anything new to watch this has is a huge help!

A lot of what you’ve suggested here are some of my absolute favourites and I might just go ahead and add a few of my favourite shows, Youtubers and movies that fill in the gaps of when my lad isn’t here to keep me company, too, if you don’t mind. Since we’re all about sharing and giving each other some good recommendations. A lot are from the UK so I’m not sure if my American followers can access them but if they can then... that’s brilliant and they should really check some classic British TV out;

TV SHOWS - Benidorm  - Doctor Who - The Inbetweeners - Friday Night Dinner - Friends - Modern Family - Skins - Outnumbered - Bad Education - Fresh Meat - Jack Whitehall: Travels With My Father - It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia - The Office US - Black Mirror - Stranger Things - Rick And Morty - American Horror Story

MOVIES - The Breakfast Club - American Pie - American Pie 2 - American Pie: The Wedding - American Pie: The Reunion - Fifty Shades of Grey - Fifty Shades Darker - Fifty Shades Freed - Mamma Mia 2: Here We Go Again - Pitch Perfect (1, 2 and 3) - No Strings Attached - Jurassic Park (1, 2, 3) - Jurassic World - Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom - Shrek (1, 2 and 3) - Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging - Every single Marvel movie.

YOUTUBERS - WillNE and S2W - Sidemen, MoreSidemen and SidemenReacts - ImAllexx - James Marriott - Memeulous and Memeuless - Eboys - Lewis Buchan - BambinoBecky and ChildishBambino - Calfreezy - Stephen Tries - Chi With A C - Freya Nightingale - Talia Mar

There is a load more that I could recommend but these are off the top of my head and from my Netflix and Youtube subscriptions. Anyone is free to add on, absolutely! Let’s get some good recommendations going. xx

[calpicowater]

Week 39/53: September 21st - September 27th 2020 | My 24th Birthday 🎂

It’s that time of the year again... libra season began so HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME (!!!!!!) BUT oof this was one of the toughest and busiest weeks that I’ve had in a really long time lol. The shitty weather all week did not help. I was running between two jobs and also I was working during the day for 2/3 days of my birthday celebrations (I was running on 4 hours of sleep on Friday and then 3 hours on Saturday.... I was DEAD..........)

On Friday, I went to eat Hai Di Lao with Betty, Wing, Shelly, and Shelly’s partner Taylor. YAY PT OAKRIDGE REUNION!!!! We ordered 3 soup bases: spicy, tomato, and bone broth!! We had a clear water “broth” for the 4th square and we just used it to wash our chopsticks......... LMFAO WTF. We kind of over ordered lol (lots of meats/shrimp paste!!!! + deep fried pork + brown sugar rice cakes :P) Tbh I don’t really remember what I ate lol it was impossible to take photos of everything) I was the last person standing and I tried so hard to finish everything but there was still so much noodle and vegetables left </3 It was super yum though!!!!!! Betty got me a mango mousse birthday cake w jelly and Hai Di Lao staff literally came out with it with a neon sign and a speaker playing birthday songs LMAO (this will make more sense on video pls stay tuned for my high production vlog ---not rly). I had like 3 staff singing it to me JHJFKJS it was so extra and awkward but it was also very kind of them LOL,,,,,,,, 服务好到位呀哈哈哈哈哈........ After hot pot, we went to Shelly’s house and played Uno and I kept losing and Wing kept bullying me!!!!! >:’( But otherwise it was a really good night despite a horrible day at work and dreading to have to go back the next day (lmfao)!! I was really happy hehehe. Thank you Betty for the cake + Sephora gift card + the Violet Voss palette!!!!! Such nice eyeshadows shades and texture :’) Also thank you Shelly for the 10 perfume samples!!!! 本来是朋友叫我出来玩的结果个个给我送礼物陪我过生日😭有点幸福

On Saturday, I was literally dead so my energy level was really really low. I went to celebrate with Vicky. The place that we wanted to go to had an one hour wait but I was really hungry so we just went to somewhere else (Hanok) and the food wasn’t even that yum (or maybe I just ordered the wrong thing but how do you fuck up spicy seafood noodle SOBS)... hindsight we should have just waited because the food from the first place was probably a lot better... ripperoni. Vicky gave me a really cute card as she always does! Also a lychee rose cake from One Cake Boutique!!!! Thank you Vicky!!! :’) 

On the actual day of my birthday, I finally caught up on sleep!!!!! I went to celebrate it with my favourite person my girlfriend (hehe obviously) <3 This year bb got me a matcha mousse cake covered with 99328935 fruits... that was SO yum. I STAN!!!!! Bb also gave me another bouquet (it’s pink this time) even though I just got one two weeks ago T_T LOL so nice. This year’s birthday gift is insane... I was just eating cake and then suddenly babe came out of the room with a huge box and it was a keyboard piano with a stand and stool??? UM WHAT JHJKSFHKSF I WAS SO SURPRISED WTF T___T this is literally such a big gift and something that I’ve wanted for so long I can’t believe bb got it for me JKKJAHFSKJ I don’t even deserve it ;_; I WILL KEEP AND TREASURE IT FOREVER :’( Also thank you bb for the cutest birthday card ever with cutest drawings HAHHAA including an adorable family portrait; and thank you for my favourite snacks: calpico water, fire noodles, 3 flavours of hi-chew, Haribo gummies and hello panda cookies!! So yum! (see row 4 pic 1 for last year’s gifts from bb hahhahaha note the similarities--- calpico water/fire noodles/card but also nice pens that I still use all the time and the uniqlo shirt&sweater that I love and wear always ^^) 

For my birthday dinner, we were supposed to go to 1931 Gallery Bistro but they closed early for training LOOOOL </3 out of all the days of the year........ sobs. So we went to Yadori to eat their premium oden pot with lots of fish cakes, tofu, seafood etc. We had to wait AN HOUR for it though....... so sad. But the food was pretty good! Especially the fish cakes section that we both stanned very much. I also loved drinking their soup! In the end it was still a really great birthday despite the restaurant mishaps LMAO. If I had learned ANYTHING from this week, it’s that we really cannot go anywhere without a reservation anymore. Thank you babe for spending another birthday with me and for everything you do for me and all the nice things you gift me ;;; !! I love them all so much~ ❤️❤️❤️ My birthdays are always 1000x better with you in it ^3^ hehehe.

[vmheadquarters]

We’re going to play a game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors will take turns telling this story. Each writer will craft a chapter (with no prior planning) and then “toss” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected! Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Chapter Seven of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @annbslade​. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.8 from @cubbiegirl​ -tag, you’re it!

——————————————————————————————————----- CHAPTER SEVEN by @annbslade​

Jen watched Logan and Veronica through a small crack in the pantry door. She started typing a text to a CXK, “Things are changing rapidly here, we must talk. Don’t know how to proceed with our plan. I will call from the secret place soon.” She put the phone back in its hidden compartment. The others can’t know I have a phone with a dedicated signal to the outside world, she thought to herself.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Logan and Veronica searched for a late night snack. Veronica stared into the open refrigerator. “There’s not much in here, just some fruit and cheese. How were they going to feed all of us for a whole weekend, you think?”

Logan appeared to ponder the question, then said with a smirk, “Well, of course Mistress X is probably very rich, she either had staff coming to cook, or the whole murder weekend thing was going to be catered. What I wouldn’t give for a mini-quiche right now. I’m starved.”

Veronica smiled. “Oh, quiche, now I’m even hungrier. Cheese and apples late at night in a creepy house, that’s romantic, right?”

Logan smiled lovingly at her. “I always thought apples were the epitome of romance. Bring them over here to the counter and we’ll cut them up.”

He rummaged through several drawers in the large kitchen. “You know, it’s odd, all there is in these drawers are really large chef knives. No normal silverware, no measuring spoons or even a cheese grater. Were they planning to just chop meat all weekend?”

Veronica looked at all the knives. “This is even more evidence we need to get out of here. They’ve set this place up as a murderer’s playground. We need to hide these knives. I don’t trust anyone here but you and Wallace.”

Veronica jumped on the kitchen counter, while Logan chopped up their snack. “We’ll hide the knives in the pantry or the closet in my room later,” she said with a sigh. “This whole thing is so exhausting.”

Logan stopped what he was doing and stepped between her legs, which were dangling off the counter, and ran his hand along the back of her head. He looked into her eyes, “You sure your head’s OK after the fall?” He leaned forward, touched their foreheads together. Veronica wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a deep kiss. They parted, and Veronica took a deep breath with a smile on her face.

“Yes, Logan, I’m feeling fine physically. When I said I was exhausted I meant I was mentally exhausted from all the crazy stuff happening here,” Veronica said. “I’m so conflicted, I didn’t want to be here this weekend, but at the same time I want to send Mistress X a gigantic thank you note for bringing me into a situation where I got to tell you how much you mean to me.”

Logan smiled at her, nodded and gave her a big hug. “I totally agree, I don’t know why we’re here, but I’m so grateful to be with you.” He leaned forward and grabbed her waist to bring her closer to him and kissed her deeply.

Veronica was the first to break the kiss, “I can’t concentrate when you kiss me like that. And I had more to say, damn it!” Veronica said in a teasing tone.

Logan chuckled. “Go ahead, I’ll stay arms-length away until you are done talking.”

Veronica composed herself quickly and started to fire off bullet points with her fingers. “First off someone wanted us here together in a romantic sense- why?  Second, why was Leo here? It’s almost like he was trying to warn us about something important. Third, why and how is Duncan here? Shouldn’t he still be hiding out in Australia with baby Lilly? Fourth, why would Mistress X throw us in a place with people who hate us, except for Wallace- it’s like a bad high school reunion movie. And fifth, someone tried to kill me, but they did a really bad job of it. It’s almost as if they planned for you to have the opportunity to save me.”

Logan said, “V take a deep breath, that’s a lot of thoughts.”

She took the requested breath and then said, “What do you think? Do you think I’m crazy to think this has something to do with us being together romantically?”

Logan started pacing around the kitchen. “I think we need to start thinking about who would benefit from the two of us getting back together. Because it is weird that all the events seem to revolve around people who were involved in our relationship, for good or bad, at one time or another.”

Veronica jumped off the counter and approached Logan. She grabbed his hands and said, “Let’s take our snack upstairs and get some rest, all these questions will still be here in the morning.”

Logan bent down and held Veronica's face in his hands, “I love that idea. So are we staying in the same room, in the same bed?” he questioned with a smile.

“Yes, of course we are, you goof,” she said. Veronica took his left hand and grabbed the snack with the other hand. “Let’s go, before something else happens.”

As they walked hand-in-hand toward the swinging kitchen door, Duncan burst in. At the sight of their joined hands, he frowned slightly, and then quickly put a plastic smile back on his face.

“Veronica thank God I found you!” Duncan exclaimed and started to pull something out of his pocket. “I need to tell you about the letter I received that got me to participate in this Murder Mystery weekend. I think it has a clue in it related to Leo.”

Just as Veronica went to open her mouth, a loud crash and a scream came from the next room. It sounded like a chandelier falling and crashing to the ground.

[sooghostwriter]

Iliada

Pairings: Do Kyung Soo x OC 

Genre: Mature,  Romance, AU, mention of violence, action, bad language,  Smut in future chapters

Warnings: Kyung Soo is not a good guy. Mentions of violence. 

Summary: After a long and hard assignment, Yoon Suji is sent to a new mission that involves less violence but needs a lot of acting. Do Kyung Soo has one of the biggest drugs rings in South Korea, but police haven’t been able to get him. They need proof that he is the one in charge and Suji is the one sent to get them. 

She has the freedom to decide how is she going to get his trust. 

Notes:  I wrote this story a while ago, I published somewhere else (LJ I think) then I read it again and I didn’t like it, so I changed some things and some characters. Since this story is already written, there will be a new chapter every week. Also, here Kyung Soo is a bit older. This is not child’s game. Also if you are Russian, this is nothing against your country. I grew up in the ’90s when every bad guy in action movies was Russian. 

Chapter 1

There are many stories about the fearsome female warriors from ancient Greece: stories about women that, since they were little girls, were trained in the art of war and the handling of weapons, as well as trained to support all kinds of physical sufferings. These stories contain passages that give us hints about how they defeated regiments of man on the battlefield.

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From December 16th to December 20th

December 16th to December 17th

Inside the room, Suji was accompanied by three more girls. None of them looked older than 16 years old. Probably outside there was 3°C, but inside and sitting on the floor it felt like minus 3°C. It was her third day in Russia, and as soon as the airplane landed, everything felt like hell.

And she was ready for hell.

Sadly, the three girls in front of her weren’t. It was obvious that their young bodies went through a lot. Their ankles and wrists were bruised, and their mouths had traces of blood in the corners. “Did you guys eat something?” She asked them. Just one of them answered. No. Suji got up and rummaged inside one of her boots and found what she was looking for. Two protein bars. 

“They taste bad, but they have a bunch of protein, minerals, and all that crap, they will make you feel better” She cut the bars in half and gave one half to each girl. They bowed at her with gratitude.

She came back to her position and rested her head against the wall. She had to wait until midnight to make a move. At that time, Zala, the big blond guy that received her when she arrived, was supposed to “check the products”. 

She felt bad for the girls in front of her, they would be taken soon.  She had a plan, but she wouldn’t be able to help them sooner than that. 

This was the last day of a one-year mission. Svavelsjo was the biggest human trafficking group in Eastern Europe. And they spread around the world like the plague. What started as a denouncement of a missing person in the suburbs of Busan, ended up as a secret mission of 50 people from the Switzerland and Korean governments to dismantle the Svavelsjo group. Suji was the undercover agent of the circus. She got into the group as a product, as one of the young girls brought from Korea to be sold in the black market as ‘Tender Meat’ as they call girls under eighteen. She was already past eighteen, but her body constitution made her look younger. Illegally younger. 

It was probably around 10 when they came to take one of the girls. She struggled a bit but was quickly calmed down with a slap. The guy grabbed her by the hair and pulled her outside the room. Immediately the other two girls began shaking and crying, scared, but already surrendered. Suji rearranged her position and waited for her turn.

“It's 11:30, if you can hear me, cough twice” Suji did as told. Minseok’s voice sounded low but clear. Apparently, the small communicating device hidden in her ear was working. 

“We are already located in our positions, the map you gave us was pretty close to the actual deal, at 12 o’clock we will knock down the glass in the ceiling and come in, try to be safe until that happens, I’ll cut communications for now…and Miss Yoon, good luck”  Suji smiled at no one and wished for the same.

She kept looking at the two remaining girls in front of her. She wanted to calm them down, but she knew no words were good enough. In one year as an undercover agent, she saw hell in the eyes of all those young girls and boys. She went through hell too, but she was ready for it, she knew how to deal with it. They didn’t. They were just kids. Scared kids.

She was rather grateful when Zala appeared at the door. Looking at her with dark eyes, licking his lips. At least those two girls will be free soon.  “How’s my china girl?”  Suji kept quiet, hiding her face with her hair. The man grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up, and grabbed one of her hands looking at her long pink nails. He licked one of her fingers, sucking it and biting the tip. She felt like hitting the guy down his throat, but she had to stay calm “People say you did a good job at Japan and then at Russia, so let’s see how you do here” He sucked at her fingers for the last time and then grabbed a stronghold on her hair “Come with me slut!” She followed him, faking some resistance, and heard the door was shut behind her. 

Zala walked along a dark alley, she couldn’t see a thing and felt insecure about the future of the operation. But they reached the room he was looking for and felt relieved when a strong beam of light passed through the open door. He pushed her inside the room and took his time to close the door. Suji looked around her and the content of the room made her feel sick. A gurney, old hospital equipment, oxygen tanks, dirty scrubs, and a wall covered with refrigerating units “You are useless to us now, we will take the last thing we need from you” He grabbed her by the neck and tossed her on top of the bed. She hit her head on the landing and the squeal she made, made Zala laugh. She was getting more and more grossed out. “Yoon, 10 seconds” She sat on top of the bed, holding herself in her hands “9…8…7…6…5…4” Zala was preparing a needle with a dark liquid inside, and approached her slowly “ 3…2…1” 

Chaos reigned. 

The two short-range bombs in the two main doors exploded and quickly the SWAT team invaded the hall of the abandoned factory that worked as an operation center. Zala looked at the door, not knowing what was going on. Screams and shooting noises started to fill the air. He looked at Suji and fear got into his bones when he saw her break into a smile, appearing under the hair that was covering her face “I thought I will have to fight barehanded, but since mister Zala is an amateur doctor, now I have a weapon” It was faster than his ability to react. One of the scalpels that were inside a small trash can went inside his left eye. Suji knew that the hit wasn’t enough to knock down a man like him, but it was very painful, and it will give her time to move from there. “You fucking bitch!” He dashed in her direction, with his fist high up, gaining some momentum. The fist landed in the wall and he saw how Suji moved under his legs, grabbing one of the steel chairs and swagging it towards him, hitting him in the back of his head. “Suji?!, We are in, where are you?” 

“Last room to the left! Hurry up” Zala couldn’t understand what she was saying or to who she was talking to, and the pain on his back didn’t let him think. Suji had to move. She grabbed a cord from the floor and went behind Zala, passing the cord around his neck. She was able to grab a stronghold. He kept cursing in Russian, she could understand only half of it. He kept struggling, making it hard for Suji to hold on. He was too big and too strong for her small frame.

Suddenly things looked dark for Suji. 

Zala had a gun in his hand. Inside his boots, she thought, feeling stupid. He threw an accurate blow to her head, hitting her with the barrel of the gun. She landed on the floor, feeling dizzy. She could only see his blurry figure move close to her. He mumbled something, but she couldn’t get what he said. 

She didn’t feel the bullet sink in her thigh, but the smell of gunpowder stung her nose. “Suji, was that you?”

“Hurry up Minseok!, I got shot!” She heard Minseok cursing and a second later someone was trying to open the door. 

“Minseok! It’s closed, use the bomb!” Zala looked at the door and then at her, then back to the door 

“Suji, move away!”

“Doesn’t fucking matter, just blow the door!” Minseok obeyed, she was the one in charge anyway. Zala couldn’t understand what they were talking about. 

“You better lay down Zala” Suji told him with malice in her voice. But it was too late. She was fast enough to turn herself into a ball, covering her ears and hiding her head from the fragments of the explosion. Maybe a minute passed when the dust started to dissipate and Minseok came to her rescue. 

Suji looked like a different person, he hadn't seen her in maybe six months, and she already looked this bad. He suddenly felt enraged towards those pigs “Pick me up, we have to clean this mess” Minseok helped her get on her feet. She looked around and found Zala on the floor, with a big bleeding wound on the side of his head, not very conscious. 

“I got you pig, you and your friends can begin to think about fucking each other in jail” He didn’t need to speak Korean to know that she was cursing at him. He cursed the day he decided to bring her from Korea. 

December 17 Th

Baekhyun had gathered all of Kyung Soo’s potential business partners at the big dining room at Kyung Soo’s favorite restaurant. It wasn’t that hard. To the call of easy money all the easy people come.

It was a top-secret reunion. All the attendees agreed with it. If someone knew where they were now, it would be a tragedy, to say the least. Twelve people gathered, nine old collaborators and three new ones. Kyung Soo was excited. With a bit of luck, this could help his business. Make it grow. 

“My dear friends, welcome '' There was a collective greeting, and Kyung Soo sat with his guests, adopting a solemn aptitude. Everyone went silent so Kyung Soo could start talking. 

“We are all very busy, so I’ll give a brief but clear explanation of what I need and what you people can win. Last month, a new bill was sent by the prime minister to congress. Legalization of Marihuana. And not just that. The bill says that the state will sell it, ergo, all the money will go to the government. Now that is very bad for us, the president is taking away a big part of our job!...So this is what I need. That law can not pass. Period. I don’t think I need to explain myself”

“But there’s 26 more of us in congress, of course, we are going to say no to that bill, but what can we do with the rest?”

“Use your best words, your best smile and convince the people from your party. Of course, I’ll do my part, I have people in a lot of places, but I need help” The reunion finished fast. All of them promised to do whatever was in their hands. Kyung Soo gave them a week.

December 17 to December 18

The effect of the painkillers started to fade out. Suji’s eyes opened slowly, getting used to the sunlight that came from outside. It took her a couple of seconds to realize where she was.

She hated hospitals. The smell was unbearable, too clean, too warm. She looked at her left arm, growling at the intravenous going inside her skin. Her head felt heavy, she tried to move, but it hurt too much. 

“I see you’re up?” Suji looked at the door, where a tall blond guy got in. 

“I’m your doctor, tell me, how do you feel?”

”Good enough to leave this place”

“I don’t think so, the wound in your thigh is still healing, thank god it didn’t reach your bones, it did quite a damage, you will need rehab, but your people told us that they will do that in their hospital, you got a rib splintered, and some burns in your arms due to the explosion…now, we found some other wounds…and…we took care of some of them…are they related with your undercover work?”

“Yes” She didn’t give him the explanation he was looking for.

“Well, you took good care of some of them”

“It’s not my first time”

“For me, it was the first time I saw those kinds of wounds in a female agent” Suji looked straight at his eyes. She hated to give explanations when she didn’t have to, but it was easier this way. One fast answer was better than being asked ten times the same question. 

“I had to fuck some of those guys, it was that or lose months of undercover work, it’s not as bad as what happened to all the girls there, so don’t think too much about it, did you give me a blood test?”

“Yes”

“Did you find anything? HIV, Gonorrhea, Hepatitis?”

“Nothing” She was relieved. But she had some questions now. 

“What happened to the rest?”

”Well, most of the guys…” She interrupted him right there. 

“I don’t give a damn about those bastards, I should have killed those sons of bitches, I’m asking about the kids”

“Oh, sure, well…they brought 15 women and 5 kids, 10 of them are now out of danger, we gave them vitamins, food, and today they came to take their confessions, the other kids are under intensive care now, due to critical wounds and neurological damage” Although it looked bad, those were good news for Suji. They were safe.

Eventually, the doctor left, leaving her with a bad taste in the mouth. His questions remind her of what happened that year. She wouldn’t say this was the hardest mission – her first mission as an agent in North Korea won by far – but the physical abuse was like nothing she had experienced before. But she still considered herself lucky. She wasn’t selfish enough to feel bad about her situation, she saw some girls drop dead in front of her due to extenuation.

She shook those thoughts away. She was alright right now. And all that hell was in the past. For her and for the victims. 

After a really bad hospital lunch, Suji got the first visit from someone from the team. With a box of pizza and a bottle of Sprite, Minseok and Junmyeon, her boss,  arrived at her room. 

“Suji!, I brought someone” Suji bowed instinctively at the sight of her boss.  “Miss Yoon, you look great”

“Thanks boss, Minseok?  Thank you for saving me”

“Na, it’s nothing, I’m glad we could make it” Minseok arranged the sliding table in front of Suji and put the box of pizza and a glass in front of her. 

“Doctor says you can eat normal right now… the first time I saw you I couldn’t recognize you, you are so skinny!! Well, you have always been skinny, but muscular, you know? Now you are just bones, you need to gain those muscles back, I’ll help you” Suji patted Minseok’s head and accepted his proposal. 

Kim Minseok was one of her closest friends at the agency. Six years ago he recruited her. Minseok was one of those hidden gems. Her first impression of him was negative. He was small and his appearance was too soft. But when needed, he transformed. And it always surprised her how serious he was towards his work.

Junmyeon walked to the window and looked outside with a brooding face, the angle of his eyebrows kept getting deeper. “Minseok, I need to talk with Yoon Suji, will you give us a minute?”

“No…sorry boss, but she was my partner in this mission, and I’m worried as you are, she got the worst part of it” Junmyeon didn’t answer. He could understand that much. 

Kim Junmyeon was known for his fatherly behavior towards his subordinates. It was a double-edged sword, good for the agency, bad for his nerves. Sending Suji to this mission was something that kept bugging him. He never liked the idea, but she was the only option. And her stupid superwoman complex made her beg him to give her that mission. Now, after reading her medical record, he felt as if someone had done that to her little sister. He kept looking outside the window, with his hands inside his pockets. 

”I hate this country…is so damn cold, and I feel like in every corner someone is been killed in cold blood…or maybe I have watched way too  many spy movies”

“No sir, it is like that, at least that’s the only Russia I have seen”

“I’m sorry you have to see it, I’m sorry I send you to this goddamn mission” Suji rearranged her position in her bed, grabbing a second slice of pizza. 

“If you’re apologizing for giving me this job, you can stop right there, we planned this attack with Minseok from the beginning, and it worked out just as we imagined, so I was ready for the beatings, the cold, and the lack of sleep and food, although I will probably need some help getting it over, I have been having dreams…” Minseok patted her arm and sat next to her. 

“Boss, the only thing we could do for Suji now is to give her the good news and then take her with us back to Korea'' Junmyeon finally looked away from the window, meeting Suji’s eyes, smiling, for once. 

“The trial that will be held next week with Zala and all the people from Svavelsjo, is a mere formality, they infringed too many human rights this time, no lawyer will save them…and since it was such a wide group, each member will be judged under the laws of their respective countries, so some of them will be sentenced to death” Those were the words she wanted to hear. Not only they saved everybody, but also those sadist bastards were getting what they deserved.

She felt better now.

From January 10th to March 23th  

January 10th – January 11th

She was abruptly awakened by the sound of her cellphone. It was 8 o’clock, and she had to be at the airport in 3 hours. She got up, turned on the television, and opened the curtains of her hotel room. Although more than a hotel, it was like a palace. The island of Koh-Kood, in Thailand, was by far the best retreat place she has found in several years. Set amidst a tropical rainforest, Suji found a place where she could be far away from home, with no communication whatsoever, but still with the facilities she needed right now. As an expertise masseur, a fully equipped gym, good food and a beautiful waitress who could cover her natural necessities, like breakfast, lunch, dinner, and sex. Because after so many bad experiences with guys, her body only could react to the touch of a woman, and Jayne was that woman. A British 20 something girl, who decided to change the cloudy Manchester for a sunny island. And that girl was knocking on her door, her breakfast was ready. Suji put on some clothes and went to open the door. 

“Good morning!” She pushed the food cart inside her room, with her characteristic smile and her beautiful British accent. 

“Good morning, how was the night shift?” 

“Boring, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be here on your last night”

“It’s alright, we had a nice time the night before”

“True, true, so…are you ready?” She looked around, finding Suji’s only suitcase next to her nightstand. 

“I’m ready, I will eat this amazing breakfast, take a quick shower and then go downstairs” Jayne looked at her, a bit gloomy “Jayne, beautiful, don’t be sad”

“I’m not sad, is just…I will miss you, single women don’t come often to this place, you know how hard it is  for a lesbian?”

“I can imagine, sorry” She shrugged, and patted Suji’s shoulder, walking outside the room, closing the door behind her. Suji did as she said, and in less than an hour, she was returning her key at the reception. 

It took her two days to be back in Korea. In between a plane from Koh-Kodd to Bangkok, scales here and there, and the long ride from Incheon to her apartment, she was finally at home. Or at least what she called home. 

The refrigerator was empty, and the place smelled like humidity. With resignation, she took off her clothes, changed into clean sweats, and dropped dead on the couch. It was already midnight, the convenience store in front of her apartment was open, but before anything, she needed some sleep. 

                                                          ≠

Kyung Soo got up that morning feeling like a kid that didn’t want to go to school. Baekhyun went to his room two times to wake him up. The third time, he didn’t give Kyung Soo an option, he pulled his friend outside the bed. 

“Kyung Soo, come on, in an hour the guys will be here” Kyung Soo only released a grunt and walked to the shower.

“Boss!” Four guys receive him in his office. Kyung Soo bowed at them and sat on his chair in front of them. He turned on a cigarette, drank from the cup of coffee that was waiting for him, and gave a signal to the guy in front of him to talk. 

“Boss, we followed Nam Jangmin, and he indeed has been meeting with that freelance journalist that showed up the other day here asking to talk with you about your business, we took some pictures, Mister Byun has them” Kyung Soo looked at Baekhyun and he gave him a nod. The pictures were clear.

Nam Jangmin was the new governor of Daegu, and also one of Kyung Soo’s oldest business associates. Kyung Soo saw him as an investor. The man looked like a promise in politics, not because he was a good politician, in fact, he was quite bad at it, but he was good with words. With all that cynicism he could run that country. Just when Jangmin was in need of money, Kyung Soo appeared, with a good deal. He would give him the money he needed. In exchange, Nam Jangmin had to do him some favors. Favors that he would ask in the future. With time, Nam Jangmin got hooked on the easy money and Kyung Soo’s hypnotizing voice. But now Jangmin had his first child. Now he wanted to make things right. Kyung Soo could understand that. But Nam Jangmin was an idiot. It would have been easy, Kyung Soo thought, to ask him for a meeting, and explain to him why he wanted to leave Kyung Soo’s side. Kyung Soo would have wished him luck, and let him run free.

But he didn’t.

Nam Jangmin decided to inculpate him. And as soon as someone asked him something about Kyung Soo and his business, someone like that freelance journalist, Jangmin opened his mouth.

“Ok, it’s quite clear now. What can we do?” Kyung Soo only asked out of politeness. He already knew what he had to do, and he didn’t like it too much. 

“We could give him a visit”

“Visit him and his family”

“Sure, but we have to be sure, sure that he will not speak, guys…you know how to shut up someone, just do it beautifully, ok?” The four men gave one single nod at the same time, got up and left the house. 

“He has a son”

“I know Baekhyun, but he should have known better, now if you excuse me, I need to go out”

“Where?” Kyung Soo didn’t answer and left the room. Baekhyun didn’t bother to follow him.

Kyung Soo climbed the stairs to the temple feeling as if the air was going thin. After two weeks of being locked in his house, it felt nice to feel the cold air in his face, slipping through his scarf. The stairs were still wet due to the heavy rain that fell the night before and some old ladies were carrying an umbrella just in case. He will buy one later, he didn’t know when he would be back at home. There was no line in front of the altar, and as always, he felt a bit anxious in front of it. He looked at the few people going in and out and slowly walked inside. Kyung Soo tossed the coin, put his hands together and prayed, screaming loudly inside his head. 

“Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me”. He made a deep bow and walked away. As he stepped into the stairway, a single drop landed in his head. He looked above, frowning at the sky. From one time to the other it went dark. He hated it, each time his people were commanded to do the job, it rained.

After a quick lunch at some ramen shop, he stopped a taxi. 

“To Gangnam please” The driver nodded once and took the main street to the left. Kyung Soo didn’t look outside the window, his stare fixed on his hands. After 15 minutes, the driver spoke to him. 

“Sir, we are in Gangnam, where exactly do you want me to drop you?”

“In the next corner please” The driver nodded again and stopped once they reached his destination. Kyung Soo paid him, telling him that he could keep the change. The streets were already packed with office workers getting ready for a long night of drinking. Kyung Soo felt sick. He walked faster. 

He knocked at the door twice. “Who is it?”

“Customer” The door was quickly opened by a middle-aged woman with a bright smile. Kyung Soo smiled back at her. 

“Mister Do, you are here! So long no see! What? Are we stressed?”

“Yes”

“Don’t worry, one of my girls will take care of it, who do you want?” Kyung Soo hated when she talked about her ‘girls’ as if they were flavors of ice cream that you could pick, covered in chocolate and cream. Although he liked that idea. 

“Is Sara available?”

“She is, you know where you can find her” Kyung Soo nodded and walked inside the flat. The place didn’t have a name, it didn’t need it either. It was well known between the people that required those kinds of services. Kyung Soo found out about it through Baekhyun. Apparently, one of his classmates at university used to work there.  The place itself looked like a normal flat from outside, but the neighborhood said everything. Still, it was a secret place. And Kyung Soo liked that. 

He reached Sara’s room and knocked at her door. She was a psychology student at Seoul University. Smart, funny, and sexy. Kyung Soo always asked for her services. 

“I thought I heard your voice Kyung Soo”

“Hi” She grabbed his hand and guided him to the bed. He sat, closing his eyes and feeling how Sara arranged behind him, caressing his shoulders. 

“Something happened”

“Yeah…I want the same as always”

“Understood” Sara kissed his temple and took off her t-shirt. 

The next day Kyung Soo woke up feeling sore and still sleepy. Sara was already awake reading a book “What are you reading?”  

“Sartre’s, La Nausée” He joined her, resting his chin on her naked shoulder. “Why are you reading something so despairing?”

“You mean realistic?” Kyung Soo looked at her frowning, pouting in a rather cute way, at least for Sara. 

“Is it for your classes?”

“Yeah, I’m preparing for a clinical case that I have to defend, so I’m trying to understand my patient” Kyung Soo started to doze off again when Sara interrupted him. 

“Kyung Soo, I like you” Before Kyung Soo could freak out, Sara explained herself. 

“No, not that kind of like, I admire you”

“And why is that?” Kyung Soo couldn’t understand why she would admire him. As far as she knew, Kyung Soo was a drug dealer with a lot of money and status. 

“Well, first, you don’t stick to the routine that is killing us, you don’t try to demonstrate your existence by appearances, looking for superiority or heroic acts. On the other hand, you allow existence to invade you sharply, it weighs in your heart like a beast…without that…there’s nothing left inside us” Sara’s words sounded like nonsense. He was nothing like that. Sara was saying that he was the kind of man that Sartre approved of, that he was the contradiction of the nausea, and that was just nonsense. He felt like the nausea itself. Kyung Soo tossed the book on the floor and got on top of Sara, looking for that beast that she said he had inside his heart.

January 12th to January 14th

Her plan after arriving home was to sleep. Sleep until her body couldn’t stand the pain in her back due to the horizontal position. But a knock at her door interrupted her. She tried to ignore it, it was probably her landlord. She covered her head with a pillow, going back to sleep, but the knocking continued. 

“Suji, let’s go play!” Suji’s eyes were wide open. 

“Chanyeol?” She asked to herself. Chanyeol knocking at her door could mean only one thing.

Work was calling.

“Suji, let’s go play!” Her legs worked without her consent. She walked with short, lazy steps to the door, picking up her underwear from the floor and an oversized t-shirt that could cover her body.

“Yoon Suji, let’s go…” She opened her door before he could finish. 

“I got it, I got it, let’s go play, just please allow me to take a shower”

“That would be nice because you stink” She kicked him in the leg, making him yelp. 

“Minseok said you looked bad, but you don’t”

“Well Chanyeol, I spent some weeks getting back in shape, remind me to hit Minseok for saying that” Chanyeol set his suitcase on top of Suji’s kitchen counter, under the curious stare of his colleague. From inside his suitcase, Chanyeol took a bottle of Coke, a package of chocolate cookies, and a bar of white chocolate. 

“I thought you would be hungry, now go take that shower, we have to be at the agency at 10”.

Park Chanyeol was Suji’s coworker. He got into the agency three years earlier than her. How he got hired was kind of special. After spending five years in America studying Computer engineering he came back to Korea after they found him hacking the computer of the dean. He wanted to change his English notes in order to save his scholarship. Suji always wondered how he could survive 5 years in America with that crappy English of his. Once he was back in Korea, with an unfinished career, he began working as an IT in an important high school. Doing his work, which was only maintenance, he found some very suspicious folders in the computer of the headmaster. Curious as he is, he opened them. The folders contained huge amounts of child pornography and some naked pictures of some students. Without telling the police, Chanyeol did a perfectly held investigation that led him to one of the biggest groups of child pornography in South Korea. He found himself with a big scoop that was out of his reach, so he contacted the police. By the time Junmyeon received the case, the only thing left to do was put those bastards behind the bars. Chanyeol, in less than a month, put together names, institutions, bank accounts, addresses, telephone numbers, and emails, all of them related to the culprits. When asked how he did it, he explained how, with a program created by him, he could get a replica of the computer’s hard disc of each affiliate. That gave him full access to their transactions, their meetings, and the names of those who were selling them the images. But despite all the great work, what Chanyeol did was illegal. Junmyeon offered him a deal. He would keep him out of jail, but in exchange, he had to work for him.

Chanyeol was everything Junmyeon needed in his team. Compromised, smart, thorough, and hard-working. And Suji was grateful for that. She has been working with Chanyeol since her first mission, and he had never failed her. More than once, his ability to get into people’s data systems has saved her life.

                                                          ≠

Kyung Soo looked outside the window and the sun was up already, people down there walking from one side to the other. Sara had already left, not without giving Kyung Soo a last service. He made sure to pay her more than the normal fee. After a short shower, he turned on his phone, finding what he thought he would find.

                  -Boss, work done. No more worries-

Kyung Soo closed his phone and smiled to himself. It was time to come back to reality.

                                                         ≠

Suji walked next to Chanyeol as they got inside the agency. The few people there welcomed her with wide smiles. Apparently, for what Chanyeol told her on their way there, everyone read the report from her last mission and now she was a heroine. Some memories from those days threatened to come back. Maybe she would ask for that psychologist that the agency offered her.

When Chanyeol opened the door of the meeting room she met with some old faces. Junmyeon and Minseok. 

“We arrived early?” She asked, sitting next to Minseok, hitting him in the ribs. 

“No, in fact, you’re late, but let’s start” Junmyeon got up from his seat, walking toward the digital board, opening some files. 

“Oh, just the four of us?”

“Yeah, just the four of us” Suji looked at Minseok, asking for an explanation. He gave her a signal to wait. The meetings were held in front of 10 or 15 people. From the boss to the director of the SWAT team. Now it was just those three guys and her. Suddenly she felt unsure about being there. 

“I know you are wondering what is going on with this meeting, Why so few people, and the answer is simple. This mission doesn’t need big weapons or teams, Chanyeol please” Suji was a bit lost. Junmyeon was acting somehow vague. Chanyeol got up, excited with the idea of showing his short but fruitful investigation. 

“For over 3 years, the police have been behind this man” A passport picture appeared on the screen. Damn fine, was the first thought that came to Suji’s after seeing the picture, and she was surprised by her own reaction. 

“Do Kyung Soo, 30 years old, single, no studies. The police have caught him twice, but they haven’t been able to put him behind the bars for the simple reason that they have zero evidence, Not a single picture or fingerprint. Nothing”

“So how do they know is him?” Minseok asked the obvious. 

“It’s like a well-known secret. As soon as the name Do Kyung Soo comes up, everyone goes silent, You know what I mean?” It wasn’t a rhetorical question. 

“I think so, they know he does it because the guy is a big gangster or something, and probably they have seen him, but nothing more than that?”

“Exactly, and the two times he was arrested, this guy over here took him out” A new picture appeared on the screen. This time a man that looked like a high schooler with a nice suit. 

“This guy is Byun Baekhyun, 31 years old, single, lawyer. There are no records about him being involved in Do’s business, but there isn’t evidence that states the opposite. He only acts as his lawyer. Nothing else. But they hang out together a lot” Chanyeol touched the screen, closing Do’s and Byun’s pictures. 

“Do’s business is pretty simple. Importation and exportation of drugs, money-laundering, and blackmailing” Chanyeol saw how Suji s’s face broke in surprise. Junmyeon got up from his seat again and stood next to Chanyeol. 

“It’s a hard case, and it was sent to us because detectives can’t do more. We need to get inside and get some evidence” He said, signaling at Suji. She looked at Junmyeon and adopted her negotiation aptitude. 

“Then convince me, boss” Junmyeon smiled at her, he knew he would get that answer.

TBC

[hcpefulmarshmallow]

Danny Phantom Sentence Starters - S01E01-S01E11

I know I missed the Dannyversary by that much, but this show’s dialogue was gold and deserves to be acknowledged. I only did up to E11 because I ran out of transcripts, but I might do more some other time. 

Feel free to change pronouns/wording/etc. as needed.

Episode 1 - Mystery Meat

Look at you! You're too excited to speak! So I'll just go on speaking.  

Parents don't listen. Even worse, they don't understand! WHY CAN'T THEY ACCEPT ME FOR WHO I AM?! 

No, no. The rumors about the new all-steak buffet in the teacher's lounge are completely untrue.

I ordered three mud pies. Do you know what they gave me? Three mud pies. With mud! From! The! Ground!

These are the best years of my life! After high school, it's all downhill for me!

I...command you to...go away!

Well, if this superhero thing doesn't work out, I can have an exciting career as a busboy.

I control lunch! Lunch is sacred! Lunch has rules! 

Then perish!

How is it that I have the ghost powers and you're the weird kid?

This is all going in the memoir.

Episode 2 - Parental Bonding

Please! Don't say you've suddenly fallen for me. That line is so last semester.

You just set an all-time speed record for drowning in the shallow end of the gene pool. 

Well, you are kind of cute. And you have great taste in underwear. 

It's a lie, I'm not a ghost! I-I mean...she's not my girlfriend.

You better let her know your family's insane now. If you marry her and she finds out later, that's entrapment.

If you upset her, we're going to have a violent talk.

Excuse me! Excuse me! Adult coming through. I shave every day.

This dance gets better and better with every passing minute.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to dance with my wife. That's what we adults do, dance with our wives.

If by memories you mean things you remember that I don't, then yes! Go ahead and remind me of stuff I'll totally agree to remembering.

The DJ's still playing. And I think there's time for one last dance?

Episode 3 - One Of A Kind

Touch the box and your pelt will adorn my fireplace.

Who said yes? The person you asked if you were a conceited snob? 

I don't have time for extra credit...or your agendas.

I can always stop and appreciate high-quality bullying. 

Time flies when you're majestically scratching your butt. 

[Name], come on. We're just a bunch of kids. In the zoo. At night. Alone. 

Home in time for some well-deserved rest. But keep it quick, because you've got thirteen minutes. 

Hmm, my sensors indicate you're an average human, destined for an average life after high school.

Hello, misplaced aggression.

Episode 4 - Attack Of The Killer Garage Sale

I'm doing a thesis on tutoring the un-tutorable, and you're disproving my thesis that nobody's un-tutorable!

Now that that twinkie's out of the way, you're coming to my party Saturday, right?

I say we hit the amusement park. I hear the new roller coaster has a free fall that'll take three years off your life expectancy.

Why don't we get invited to the really cool parties? We've got style, charm, good looks. At least I do, anyway.

This is not junk! Every single item in this box is of vital importance to me.

See you tonight. And just because I can't believe I'm saying it, I will say it again. See you tonight.

My great-granddad Izzy was an inventor. He invented that machine that twirls cellophane around deli toothpicks.

Well, is it the bomb? Is it fresh? Is it stoopid? With an o-o?

Oh, it's stupid. I'll give you that.

Who's your daddy? 

Episode 5 - Splitting Images

Whoo! Take it off! No, seriously. He should take it off. That's weird.

You look like you've seen a ghost. Or something really scary that we don't see every single day.

Don't worry. Maybe girls will talk to you in college.

These gloves are made for grabbing!

Spiff diddly dee, man. So this is what it's like to have friends.

You may have my powers, but you sure don't know how to use them. 'Course, I don't know how to use them, but at least I know how not to use them better than you do.

You wouldn't hit a guy with glasses. You couldn't hit a guy with glasses. In fact, you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn!

My fifteen minutes of popularity is up, and I wasn't even here for it.

Episode 6 - What You Want

Some people have a lot, and some people don’t. But everybody's got something. Me, I've got charm, good looks, and modesty.

Wh-where am I? And why do I feel that I'm special and adorable? 

A car smashing into the twenty-eighth floor of anything is bad!

If I weren't a C student, I would've thought of that five days ago.

They say, "Be careful what you wish for." To that, I'd like to add a big, fat "Duh!"

Episode 7 - Bitter Reunions

Hey, we've been circling this town for hours. We could have been halfway to Florida by now. Ask for directions.

You have a battle cry, hilarious.

Dude, you are one seriously crazed-up fruit loop.

So, [Name], when did you first realize your husband was a monster bent on destroying his smarter, more successful, and better-dressed peers?

[Name], for all the years I thought you were a crackpot, I sort of apologize.

Episode 8 - Prisoners Of Love

There's a casserole in the freezer right next to the ectoplasmic residue samples!

Wow, heh, pretty much everyone who hates me all at one table. Just like high school.

Can I get anything, dearie? Coffee? Pudding? An extra helping of DOOM?!

But the one thing you know more than anything —  even more than that ghosts exist and that your sister is a bitter old bat — is that I love you, baby.

Episode 9 - My Brother’s Keeper

I could hardly watch. Though I did get some good digital pics.

Here, take my seat, you've already taken my friends.

Another ringing endorsement for the town screw-up.

Another day, another 24 hours closer to a career of pumping gas.

Apparently, I'm gonna end up a hobo. I didn't even know they had hobos anymore!

I'm usually the sour one around here. But compared to everyone else, I'm the goth bird of happiness.

There's only an i in misery if you spell it that way!

Episode 10 - Shades Of Gray

Hey, who let the dogs in! ...You see, the song is "Who let the dogs out,” but I said “Who let the dogs in.”

Nice pooch! Easy. That lady isn't edible. And neither is anything she cooks.

NO! It was a fake-out make-out.

That's life! Well, your life, anyway.

379 girls at our school, and you've got to have a crush on the one with the weapons and the grudge.

Episode 11 - Fanning The Flames

Oh yeah, you’re one of a kind! Every single one of you. 

Attention, freakishly dressed teen idol! I order you to cease and desist!

Wow. I just never realized...you’re really pretty when you’re about to fall off a building.

But you’re over there and I’m over here. I wanna be over there!

[Name], we can’t lock the kids in some medieval containment device.

You snuck out to see me! Oh, this is just like Romeo and Juliet, except I’m the one on the balcony, and I can understand everything we’re saying.

You want me to open up? Okay. Um, one time, when I was five, I really wanted a puppy, but my parents—

You’re beautiful when you’re wracked with guilt.

Mindless teenage rebellion and a killer light show? Is this an awesome concert or what!

This would an example of irony: a literary device employing the incongruity between what might be expected, and what actually occurs. 

[three-houses-text-files]

marianne/raphael

c-a support + paired ending

c

Marianne: … Raphael: Hey, Marianne! Whatcha eating? Mind if I join you? I'm starving! M: Huh? Oh. Um. R: All my favorite dishes are on the menu today! I might have grabbed too much. You want some? M: No, thanks. I— R: All you've got on your plate are leaves! Are you sure that'll fill you up? M: I-I'm done eating now. I have to go. R: Huh? You're already done eating? But there's still food on your plate! R: Hey, Marianne! Huh. Maybe she's not feeling well. I should probably go check on her later.* M: Oh, is that so? I'm so happy you found all of that food! M: A little grey starling told me that you can find berries if you fly out toward the mountains. R: Oh! I found Marianne! I didn't know she spent her time here. R: It sounds like she's talking to someone... M: What's that? You want to try some nectar from the flowers in the greenhouse? That might be tricky. M: I guess you could try it if I'm already there, otherwise you might get locked in. R: Hey, Marianne! Who're you talking to? M: Eeek! R: Huh? Oh, the birdie flew off... M: Y-yes, it looks like he has. What are you doing here, Raphael? R: You were acting a little strange when we were eating earlier, so I wanted to check on you. I was worried. M: Uh, that's sweet of you, but...I'm fine. R: Are you sure? Well, that's good to hear. As long as— Wait a minute! Were you just talking to a bird? M: Excuse me?! R: Hah! I knew it! You can talk to birds! I'm right, aren't I? M: Ah, um...yes. R: That’s incredible! This place is full of interesting folks, but I didn't think anyone spoke birdie! M: No, that's not it. This bird just happened to be... speaking human. R: Amazing! I hope I get to meet a bird who speaks human one day.

*there’s probably a scene cut after this

——————————————————————————————

b

M: Is that... M: Raphael? R: Yeah, yeah. I get it, but you can't be so picky. R: You need some meat in your diet! I don't know if you can eat human food, but bug meat might be good for you. R: That’s right, you need to eat plenty of bug meat if you want to get big and strong like me! No more sweets for you! M: What?! He's talking to a bird! R: Huh? Is someone there? M: Um. R: Oh! Marianne! You're right on time! R: This little birdie was telling me that he misses you and— Ah, oh! R: Aww. It flew off. M: It appears so. R: Why do you think birds fly away when there's more than one person around? R: Birds never seem to stay put unless I'm alone. M: Birds are very cautious creatures. They tend to fly away when they're startled. R: You mean they're afraid of loud noises?! R: Oops! That was probably too loud for the birds. C'mon, Raphael. Keep it down. R: How’s this? Do you think we'd be able to talk to birds together like this? R: I still haven't met a bird that can speak human. I was hoping you could introduce me. M: Huh? I thought you were just talking to one? R: I was mostly talking at him, not to him. He just said "chirp chirp" and stuff like that. R: I had no idea what he was talking about. I don't think he understood me either. R: Huh… R: Marianne, you always know which birds understand what you're saying, right? R: Next time you find a bird who understands you, I hope you let me know so I can join the conversation! M: Now what am I supposed to do?

——————————————————————————————

a

R: Marianne! Come here, quick! M: Oh! Wh-what's wrong, Raphael? R: It’s that bird you were talking to! I just found him! R: See? Right there on the lower branch! That's gotta be him, but he looks a little sad for some reason. M: You're right. Um, do you mind if I handle this? M: Hello there, Mr. Bird. How do you do? M: Hmm… Yes, I see. I see. So, your food supply is— R: Food?! I got it! M: I completely understand. I have seen more people and birds foraging for berries lately. M: It would be ideal if those berries were growing in another forest nearby. Then you wouldn't have to— R: Are you hungry, Mr. Bird? I got just what you need! M: Are those...bugs?! Yuck! R: Look at him go! He's loving it! He's gonna get so big and strong after this! M: That was...disgusting. But how did you know he was hungry? R: I could tell by looking at him. He looked hungry and weak. R: More importantly, I saw what you did! That bird wasn't speaking human, so you gotta understand birdese! I knew it! M: Oh. About that. I'm sorry, Raphael, but I need to tell you the truth. M: I can sort of understand what animals are thinking when I look at them, but I can't speak to them. I'm sorry for leading you on. R: Oh… I see. What about me, then? Can you tell what I'm thinking when you look at me? M: I, um. Uh...no, Raphael. I can't. R: Well, of course not. You're not even looking at me! You gotta look at my eyes! M: Ah! Nope, still can't do it! R: I guess I just gotta tell you. I'm thinking it would be nice if you talked to me the way you talk to animals. M: What do you mean? R: Whenever you talk to animals, you seem happy and friendly! R: I just wish you'd talk to me like that too. M: I'm so sorry, Raphael. I didn't know, I— R: What if I try this? Cheep cheep, chirree-chir-chidoo! M: What the—? Hahaha! R: Whoa! I've never heard you laugh before! I should've talked to you in birdese sooner! R: Cheep-chirrah, cheep-lee-woo, tweetle-dee! M: Hahaha! Sorry, I didn't quite catch that one. R: I said you gotta eat bugs to grow big and strong, just like Mr. Bird! M: Ah! I think I'll have to pass!

——————————————————————————————

paired ending

Raphael returned to his hometown, where he served his liege lord as a knight for a time. Later, he gave it up to pursue his true passion of food by opening up an inn. He got the idea to install a bird feeder outside the place, calling it The Winged Inn & Tavern, and before long, the site began to attract the prettiest birds in the region. Soon after that, Marianne made her first visit, and she and Raphael enjoyed a happy reunion. Seeing her gift in talking to the birds, he invited her to stay. Marianne eventually became known as the woman whose talent for handling animals helped an inn to flourish.

[kekabumi]

by Connie Khong

Growing up in a non-typical Chinese household, Chinese New Year always bring about different meaning to me. Why is it different? Because in the eyes of most Chinese in Malaysia at least, I am considered a ‘banana’. It means I’m yellow on the outside and white on the inside. In other words, I only look the part - but inside, I’m not the least bit.

I still speak a sprinkle of Hokkien in my household. And I speak Penang Hokkien so our Hokkien, similar to our cousins in Malacca, is smattered with Bahasa Malaysia. Except unlike a big percentage of my Chinese counterparts, I don’t speak the common Mandarin or the lingua franca of Kuala Lumpur : Cantonese fluently.

Thankfully, my late Papi's’ family is of  Hakka-Cantonese descendents and accompanied with TVB dramas growing up, I ended up picking up a bit of Canto here and there. Not the best since I don’t speak it as much, but I can still order some food or drinks and attempt some bargaining at the resident kopitiam - teh c ngalat, mm koi!

I didn’t think my Chinese New Year or me not able to speak Mandarin makes me any less Chinese - until I got older and hung around with other Mandarin-speaking friends. It was only then it came to my realisation that I am a bit different because I lack the ability to read, write and speak the so-called common language and that also meant, there is a whole universe I couldn’t access - which is apparently the license to be true Chinese. Nevertheless, I tried not to let these things bogged me down or define me - after all we still held some traditions or must-do things and practices which still hold dear to me - as a true blue Chinese or not.

So here are some things I do know about Chinese New Year!

1. Apa tu makan besar Chinese New Eve?

- Similar to your malam Raya, this homecoming dinner is THE essence of the storyboards you see in most of the Chinese New Year ads. Everyone will gather once a year to catch up with each other. Even if you don’t talk throughout the 365 days, it’s definitely NOT fine to skip the reunion dinner (don't be disrespectful to the food!). This is where the ‘how are you’, ‘when are you getting married and when are you having kids’ questions will be bombarded. But really, whether you’re true blue Chinese or a yellow banana, this means family quality time of coming together - of homecoming. Which is why the dinner is known as reunion dinner, 团圆饭 (tuan yuan fan).

Over the years, I am learning more important vocabulary because it carries much meaning to the things I celebrate and helps me connect with it better - with my roots and to appreciate it all the more.

2. Pantangs are real!

- Well, I’m a second generation Christian and honestly, most pantangs don’t or shouldn’t really apply lah. For your infomation, second generation Christian means that your parents are the first to believe in the household and you’re the second to follow after them. Well, for my household, more than beliefs, it has been customary that we keep to making sure

a) we have lots of red things in the house

b) spring clean wayyyyy before the 1st day of Chinese New Year and that means

c) not sweeping the floor especially on the 1st day (my late Papi insisted on it but my mother cheekily suggested to vacuum this one year when she forgot to spring clean the few days before)

d) putting the (fake) plum blossoms or any other spring items and decorations up

e) the word ‘fuk’ is placed upside down at the door or walls.

3. The upside down ‘Fuk’

Hahaha, nope, not THAT F word but fuk 福. I may not be able to read a lot of Chinese characters because I’m a Kebangsaan kid since primary - but this is one of the few that I know by heart. We will place it upside down and not right side up to invite all the fortune, luck and happiness into the household and then, pour it out to all the guests that enters and leave the household. Another reason why I remember it is because it’s also the same character used for Hok in Hokkien.

4. Khong Family CNY Signature Dish

- Not all family serve the same food you know? Like how we have different versions of Laksa, different household serve different must-have dishes : special to that group. For example, Jiu Hu Char (Stir fried yambean with dried cuttlefish) is a must in my Hokkien household and because we have our Hakka grandmother on my late Papi’s side, we also serve these gorgeous Kau Bak or Khew Yuk : Hakka marinated 5 spice pork belly, steamed with round yam. They are sooooo good - our go-to signature Khong CNY dish!

We would plan what to prepare for Eve, First Day and back then when my Papi and his parents were still around, the 2nd Day family lunch as well. Usually First Day are more vegetarian friendly - because we have had so much meat on the Eve and for the religious ones, they will observe 1st and 15th of the month as vegetarian days so it’s only apt that we try to incorporate more vegetable options as well.

And food have good meanings to them as well - onomatopoeia! So, it’s really common to find Mandarin oranges, pistachios, fish, and certain vegetables like mushrooms because in their Chinese pronunciations, they sound like words that means happiness, gold, prosperity, luck and the likes. That’s why they are a must-serve during Chinese New Year and even more on other auspicious days for the Chinese community like weddings!

5. Red Packets - angpow mana?

- Contrary to popular beliefs, not everyone gets angpow and not everyone gives. The golden rule of thumb, is that if you’re married, then you have to start giving. Because it means, you’re finally an adult and is able to pass on the (financial) blessings to others - especially the younger ones. Well, the amount is up to you - but it really depends on the economy (nowadays, the minimum has increased from the heyday of RM2 per couple or per pax to about RM5 or RM10 these days) but, to be honest, it’s the thoughts that really counts. And while married couples generally don’t receive, their parents still can give to them if they want to. While unmarried older relatives can give money, they don’t put them in red packets. Then there are some practices where the younger but already working siblings will give to their older siblings as a form of respect. Though this is not as common, it’s being practiced. But generally, any older relatives can start giving - and yes, even you - the twenties and thirties year olds, if you’re working and if you have younger cousins or nephews and nieces, you can give them as well. Just don't put them in red packet if you’re not married yet.

6. #OOTD: Colour to wear

- The obvious colour would definitely be red! But anything that represents prosperity, money, luck is good too. So colours like gold, orange (because in Chinese pronunciation, it means gold), green and blue. If these colours are too strong for your liking, you can even opt for pink and salmon. Contrary to popular belief, we don’t all wear cheongsams or samfus during the celebrations anymore. It’s not really a common practice but it's still fun to put it on for the occasion! While most people these days are not as superstitious, to be safe, black and whites are a no-no as they are seen as inauspicious and related to funerals.

7. Balik kampung time!

It’s a common practice for the community to travel or make their way back to their hometown. I believe it’s the same for most of our non-Chinese friends when it comes to their day of celebration. I mean, it only makes sense to head back to where your grandparents and extended relatives are at - and for some, where you grew up in. If you’re married, you would have to follow your husband to celebrate 1st day at his parents’ place and only to return on 2nd day to yours. It's really all about planning so you can celebrate with each other’s family.

8. WIND AND WATER

And this brings me to my 8th (which also sounds like fatt (prosper) in Cantonese) and last point. It’s apt for me to end with feng shui - synonym to all things superstitious Chinese. And how specific dates bring extra ong and huat to you (dates to get married or return to work, hoi gong in Cantonese) in hopes that choosing a good day to do things, it will make everything go well.

For others who believe in feng shui and the likes, the zodiacs and fortune telling is also another important thing to start the year with. Some say if your zodiac is the zodiac year or is against the Taisui (something like a guardian God overseeing people’s fortunes) for that year, you’re going to have a very tough year ahead.

So yes, that wraps up a few of the things I know. I am still trying to learn and reconnect with things that most, if not all, Chinese that still practices even up to this day. And to me, the most important thing is family and homecoming. That’s really the essence of Chinese New Year which lasts until the 15th with more mini celebrations in between such as Everybody’s Birthday (Yan Yat) on the 7th and pai ti gong by the Hokkien community on the 9th and the end of it all, Chap Goh Meh on the 15th night where the singles will head out to the river/seaside to throw oranges with number in hopes to find their potential partner.

So, join us welcome the new year in the lunar/Chinese calendar. And no, for the last time, you can be a Christian / Muslim / Buddhist etc and still celebrate Chinese New Year because you’re still CHINESE.

From all of us at Kekabumi to your family, we would like to wish you a Huat-derful Chinese New Year and may this year brings you lots of joy and prosperity!

[rebelsofshield]

Panels Far, Far Away: A Week in Star Wars Comics (10/30/19 and 11/6/19)

Wow. It’s been a wild two weeks. Yes, two weeks. Life has been a thing and Panels Far, Far Away has fallen a tad behind as of late. So now, for your reading pleasure we have two solid weeks of Star Wars comics. So happy belated Halloween, say hi to your good Doctor, and prepare to rescue some Wookiees.

Star Wars Adventures #27 written by John Barber and Michael Moreci and art by Derek Charm and Tony Fleecs

It’s not just Marvel that has joined the journey to The Rise of Skywalker. IDW Publishing is launching its own story of the struggle between the First Order and the galactic resistance these coming weeks. Whereas many other stories have concerned themselves with just how the Resistance restructures itself in the wake of the disastrous events of The Last Jedi, Adventures instead follows a lone Wookiee’s attempt to save his homeworld from tyrannical occupation. That’s right, it’s Chewbacca and a Porg vs the First Order.

Despite the prevalence of cute sidekicks and slapstick humor, there is a genuine sense of stakes and tension in John Barber’s Chewbacca tale. Sure he may be lugging around a pet Porg with him, but this is his home and Chewie could not be more invested in its safety. Derek Charm draws Chewie with an unexpected ferocity and determination and uses some of his trademark creative layouts to have our Wookiee hero springing across the page and breaking panels with strides and jumps. It makes for an investing little story that I can’t wait to dive further into.

This week’s back up story proves to be less impressive, but still entertaining. Our three droid heroes, C-3PO, R2-D2, and BB-8, find themselves alone on Garel having been overlooked once again by both the First Order and their friends on the Resistance. However, when a young orphan needs help, they decide to take matters into their own hands. There isn’t anything quite as engaging as the Chewbacca segment, but it’s nice to finally see our robotic friends taking matters into their own hands and proving their worth. Tony Fleec’s pencils can’t help but bring to mind the shortlived Droids animated series from the 80s, but it works well here and gives this new story a pseudo-retro vibe.

Score: B+

Star Wars Adventures: Return to Vader’s Castle #5 written by Cavan Scott and art by Francesco Francavilla and Charles Paul Wilson III

Yes, yes, I know. Halloween was over a week ago, so this, hopefully annual, celebration of all things creepy in Star Wars is a little delayed. Luckily, this final issue of Return to Vader’s Castle proves to be the strongest of the bunch, even if it comes nowhere close to reliving the heights of its predecessor.

The biggest struggle with this year’s Vader’s Castle series has been the mismatch of artists with source material. While Cavan Scott took us to even more twisted and dark little Star Wars horror stories, the artists tasked with bringing these to life, while often talented, felt out of place with the decidedly more sinister narratives. While frame artist, Francesco Francavilla turned in impressive work on a regular basis, the tales themselves struggled. It is disappointing that Francavilla doesn’t get the opportunity to do a full issue on his own like Derek Charm did last year, but Charles Paul Wilson III lives up to the task and delivers the most visually cohesive installment of this miniseries.

While Colonel Hudd tries his best to escape from Mustafar with the help of an unexpected ally, his captor, Vanee, recounts a creepy rebellion at Vader’s Castle by the planet’s natives. Writer Charles Soule had hinted at the mystical relationship that the Mustafarans had with their planets lava in his Darth Vader ongoing and Cavan Scott dives further into that here. The result pits Darth Vader up against a local mystic and a horde of lava zombies. Yes, lava zombies, and yes, it is as cool as it sounds.

Charles Paul Wilson III crafts some delightfully creepy and bizarre character designs for the lava zombies and their Mustafar masters, and colorist David Garcia Cruz brings it to life with an effective mix of striking reds, purples, and oranges. The end result is the first installment of this miniseries that feels visually consistent throughout and lives up to its goals as an all ages horror book.

Score: B+

Star Wars Allegiance #4 written by Ethan Sacks and art by Luke Ross

The conspiracy on Mon Cala comes to light in the final issue of Star Wars Allegiance. Just who has been setting the citizens of the watery planet and the Resistance is revealed even as the First Order arrives in orbit. Also, Finn and Poe fight some bounty hunters.

Star Wars Allegiance is a very fine little comic. That’s it really. It’s fine. The strongest point of this comic since its start has been its story of a war-weary Princess Leia and her relationship with a planet she helped plunge into hardship almost forty years prior. It is a dramatic backdrop for a narrative and helps solve a logistical question for the Resistance as we head into December’s big final showdown. However, as an actual prequel to the final installment of this latest trilogy, the result feels decidedly lackluster. The central cast of new generation heroes are mostly given little of consequence to do and more often than not, particularly in the case of Rose and Rey, feel written out of character or reduced to their most basic form. The Finn and Poe section proves more fun than the material granted to our heroines but the end result still feels decidedly inconsequential.

Fans looking for a piece of connective tissue linking the time between the Battle of Crait and the start of The Rise of Skywalker are best served by checking out Rebecca Roanhorses’ novel Resistance Reborn, which covers similar ground as Allegiance but with greater depth and fidelity. As it stands, Allegiance is a fun appetizer for a larger meal. Decent art, decent story, decent characters.

Score: B-

Star Wars Doctor Aphra Annual #3 written by Simon Spurrier and art by Elsa Charretier

When they first appeared in last year’s Doctor Aphra annual comic, Nokk and Winloss, a bi-species monster hunting couple, quickly endeared themselves as two of Star Wars’ most creative and lovable additions in sometime. It is both a treat and a worry that the fate of these two seems so inextricably linked to galactic chaos ball, Doctor Chelli Aphra.

Writer Simon Spurrier and artist Elsa Charretier look to change that up here by giving Aphra her latest opportunity at redemption, and maybe a little revenge too. In a complicated scheme, Aphra uses her new found access to Imperial files to help Nokk track down a man who deeply wronged her and also give her husband and Wookiee bounty hunter, Black Krrsantan, some closure on the way.

Spurrier gets to play with his trademark layered storytelling even more than usual here. The added page length and relatively self-contained nature of this story allows him to play with perspective, plotting, and pacing to an even more controlled degree than usual and the result is a narrative that is filled with twists, turns, and betrayals. It may not be the most memorable tale that Spurrier has crafted on Aphra, and is nowhere near the delightful heights of last year’s annual, but the result is still a very solid and fulfilling little chapter that provides some closure to this comic’s supporting cast.

Elsa Charretier has been a regular feature of IDW’s Star Wars comics for some time, and it’s nice to finally see her make the jump to Marvel’s line of adventures. Her exaggerated and stylized characters work well for a tonally varied comic such as this and it’s nice to see the Star Wars line branching out a bit in visual representation. Colorists Edgar Delgado and Jim Campbell  don’t always do the best at bringing her complicated pencils to life and the result sometimes feels too heavily inked, but the comic still maintains a unique visual aesthetic that succeeds more often than it stumbles.

Score: B+

Star Wars Doctor Aphra #38 written by Simon Spurrier and art by Caspar Wijngaard

Even with the announcement that renowned speculative fiction writer Alyssa Wong will be taking over Doctor Aphra early next year, there still hangs an air of finality around “A Rogue’s End.” Many of the major players among the last thirty eight issues of this series have come back to play and Aphra’s future feels more in flux than ever. With her wayward father now in the clutches of Darth Vader and her former droid sidekicks/torturers back in her orbit, Aphra has more to lose than any other point in her twisted history.

It’s the father daughter relationship between both Doctors Aphra that really takes up most of the meat of the story here and it helps the comic feel like it is approaching a full circle conclusion to the first issue penned by Kieron Gillen over three years go. Spurrier finds expansive creative real estate here, charting the reunion, frustration, and possible reconciliation of these two in the span of twenty some pages. It feels organic and emotional and ups the stakes considerably for the next two issues.

Spurrier also gets the chance to write Darth Vader more than he has in previous issues here. The result is pitch perfect and delightfully sinister and unstable in a way that feels right in line with some of the great comics for this character over the last four years, even if it ends up covering some familiar ground.

Caspar Wijngaard’s pencils are dependably striking here and helps the comic look better than it has in quite sometime. Colorist Lee Loughride feels more at home now than in last issue and characters and environments feel more lively and defined. Aphra herself still feels a little awkwardly rendered, but she is the exception, not the rule, to an otherwise visually impressive issue.

Score: A-