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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

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The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

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Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

——————————————————

It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

1K notes · View notes

invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

Text

two can keep a secret

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: What is the difference between a secret and a lie? Jason Todd is in love. But will his relationship survive when Y/N realizes she doesn’t know him at all?

Word Count: 9,500+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of rape, domestic violence, and murder

She is the first thing he thinks of when he slowly comes to.

Not her face, like some glowing angel that you always see in those stupid movie montages, where the protagonist’s wife or girlfriend tragically died and he’s thinking of her.

No, Jason is thinking about how pissed Y/N’s going to be when he misses date night.

Jason didn’t need to go out to a fancy restaurant or cocktail bar to be content. Doing absolutely nothing with Y/N was more than enough for him. But she deserved more than that – not that she ever said so. Jason was the one who insisted on taking her out every so often. So he sucked it up and did anything to make that woman smile. It didn’t hurt that Y/N was too talented at dolling herself up.

Y/N was probably sitting with her hair curled and her makeup done to perfection (after watching a YouTube tutorial for a look she had been wanting to try for weeks). Or, depending on how much time had passed, she had given up and bitterly changed into her pajamas.

The other unfortunate fact was that Y/N still didn’t know that Jason had a double life. She had zero idea that her boyfriend of a few months was also the infamous Red Hood.

So, yeah, Y/N was going to be pissed, thinking that Jason simply forgot about date night or just completely blew her off.

Just when Jason was fighting the migraine to open his eyes, someone kicked his shins roughly.

“I know you’re awake,” someone sang to him.

Jason blinked and squinted, realizing that his helmet was still intact.

Well, that’s one positive.

He looked at the man standing just a few feet away from him. Decked out in a fancy green suit, horned rimmed glasses, and that stupid little bowler hat.

The Riddler.

Jason always found him to be mostly an inconvenience. But clearly he’d done something to piss off the annoying genius, because this was a lot of effort on his part.

“What the fuck do you want?” Jason growled, knowing his voice sounded even more dangerous with his helmet distorting it.

Riddler smiled and put his arms behind his back. “You have become rather troublesome, Red Hood.”

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” Jason answered with sarcasm.

But Jason hadn’t been interfering with the Riddler for quite some time, so he was still rather confused what was going on.

“Our mutual friend is quite tired of you meddling with his business. Also, it’s not cheap to replace all of his goons you keep murdering.”

Jason tilted his head. “You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific.”

Riddler narrowed his eyes with slight annoyance. “Why the Clown Prince of Crime, of course.” Jason’s body tensed at the name and the Riddler noticed immediately. “He figured if you came back from the dead once before, there’s a chance you could do it again.”

Then the Riddler stopped his pacing and did a dramatic gesture to himself. “Which is where I come in. You see, he thought it would save him some time and effort to simply hire me.” He moved closer to Jason. “He figured if he couldn’t kill you…maybe you deserve a different punishment.”

Jason audible sighed. “Am I supposed to be scared?”

While it sounded like a joke, there was a truth to the question. Jason stopped fearing death long ago. And once you’ve died and come back to life, there’s nothing really that scared Jason Todd anymore. Which was why he had become the ruthless and merciless antihero of Gotham.

Batman would hurt criminals enough to break them. Red Hood would simply kill them.

Though after fighting his family became too much, Jason finally agreed to stop his massacres. But the criminals of Gotham didn’t need to know that. And Jason would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy how much they shook at the mere sight of him.

“Oh, I’m sure we can figure out how to return some fear into that ice cold heart of yours,” Riddler whispered in Jason’s ear before pressing a button.

A swinging light bulb flashed on.

No, no, no, no. no.

Below the source of the light was Y/N, tied to a chair by her hands and feet. A rag was across her mouth and tied at the back of her head. She was only in her underwear and a baggy t-shirt – Jason’s t-shirt. Further proving that she had been ripped from her bed and brought here against her will.

Jason completely controlled his reaction to seeing his girlfriend being held captive just 20 feet across from him. But in reality, his heart was about explode out of his chest.

Not this. Not her. Anything but her.

“What is this?” Jason asked, trying to sound as devoid of emotion as possible. The less she seemed to mean to him, the less Riddler would want to use her against him.

“I think you know exactly what this is, Red Hood.” Then Riddler practically skipped to Y/N’s side, who looked confused and terrified, clearly having no idea why any of this was happening to her of all people.

“Your quarrel is with me, Riddler. There’s no need to involve an innocent civilian.” Jason’s voice was cool and even.

But he ignored Jason and pulled a pistol out from the back of the waist.

Jason couldn’t remain calm any longer. He started struggling against the ties.

“Don’t worry. The fun has just begun. You get these three riddles right and I won’t hurt her – at least…not yet.”

But Jason was looking at Y/N. She was looking back at him, which did little to reassure her. She didn’t know who he was and his helmet wasn’t designed to comfort people.

“Hey, it’s gonna be OK.” He tried to tell her as softly as he could.

For some reason, she nodded. But Jason knew her well enough to see his words had little impact on her. Tears started streaming down her face and her entire body was shaking as she felt the cold metal of a gun pressed to her head.

“Shall we begin?” Riddler asked with a creepily joyful smile.

Jason waited. But as the Riddler was distracted, he was able to maneuver his arms to press the panic button on his wrist to send out a distress signal to the right people. It was his first time using it, always too proud or stubborn to ask for help.

But if Y/N was involved, none of that mattered anymore.

The Riddler’s eerie tone brought him back, “When you have me, you feel like sharing me. But if you do share me, you don’t have me.” He took in a deep breath. “What am I?”

Jason’s chest was heaving with anger. He should’ve been more careful. He should’ve stayed away from Y/N. He was a curse, a disease. Anyone that got close to him just ended up in danger. And he should’ve known better than to think he could be happy without consequences.

“Clock’s ticking, Red Hood.” He cocked the gun. “What am I?”

“A secret,” Jason growled.

“Surprise, surprise. There does seem to be some semblance of a brain underneath that stupid helmet of yours.”

Y/N closed her eyes in relief, causing more tears to escape and slide down her cheeks.

“When you have me more, you can see only less. What am I?” The Riddler asked.

Jason thought on the next riddle as he tried to find one of his knives hidden in his sleeve. But even when he grabbed one, it would take far too long to cut through this thick rope that kept him tied down.

“Darkness,” Jason answered confidently.

The Riddler seemed annoyed now. “One more riddle and then we’ll move on to another game. Or maybe we won’t, if you get it wrong.” He shifted so he was directly behind Y/N and facing Jason as he pointed the gun at the back of her head.

“The person who built it, sold it. The person who bought it, never used it. The person who used it, never saw it.” He tilted his head. “What is it?”

Jason finally found the edge of a knife. He subtly started cutting at the ropes on the back of his chair, praying he could buy himself enough time to get him out.

The Riddler lifted the gun to the ceiling and shot it, causing Y/N to jump and let out a yelp.

“I’m waiting!” He snapped at Jason.

“A coffin!” Jason growled. “Put the gun down and let her go. You’ve had your fun.”

The Riddler laughed. “Oh, you think that this was the main attraction?” He put the gun down, but moved to grip Y/N’s chin roughly.

“Secrets, darkness, coffin,” Riddler listed the three answers aloud. Then he turned to Jason. “What do all of them have in common?”

Riddler moved back behind Y/N and leaned down to whisper in her ear. The feeling alone caused a chill to go down her spine. “You’ve been lied to, my dear. The decision to bring you here was not random at all. That I can promise you.”

“Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone,” he sang loudly, his voice echoing in the warehouse. Then he danced back to Y/N and pulled down the rag around her mouth, finally allowing her to speak.

“Red Hood, question for you. How many people have you killed?”

Don’t do this, Jason begged in his mind.

He didn’t answer.

The Riddler didn’t appreciate this and quickly walked to Y/N, smacking her across the face with the back of his hand.

Jason struggled against his restraints.

Riddler whipped back to him. “Answer the question!”

“I don’t know,” he barked back.

“You don’t know because there’s so many?” Riddler challenged.

“I don’t keep track,” Jason answered quickly, knowing his silence would only cause Y/N more pain.

“More then 10?”

“Yes.”

“More then 50?” Riddler asked with an evil grin.

“Yes.”

Riddler turned to Y/N. “It’s actually 83.”

It was the first Jason had heard the number. But he knew better than to question it.

“You call yourself a hero. But looks to me like you’re just a murderer,” the Riddler cooed with a sneer.

Jason hung his head in shame. “I’ve never called myself a hero.”

Riddler ignored his comment and turned his attention fully to Y/N now. “Now this next one is for you, dear. And it’s a tricky one.” The Riddler took in a deep breath. “I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I’m sometimes the hardest to express, but the easiest to ignore. I can be given to many…or only just one.”

Y/N swallowed, repeating the words over and over again in her head.

“L-Love,” she finally stuttered out, but seemed sure of her answer.

The Riddler smiled at her response. He turned to Jason. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Red Hood.” Then he shifted his weight. “Or should I say Jason?”

Jason saw the confusion on Y/N’s face from the comment.

“Tell me dear, did you know you were in love with a murderer?”

Y/N was discombobulated by such a question.

But before she could figure it out, the Riddler rushed to Jason and ripped off his helmet. When he saw that Jason was wearing a domino mask underneath, he rolled his eyes. “All you bats and birds are so paranoid!” Then he ripped that off, too.

Y/N’s eyes widened at the sight of her boyfriend.

But Jason didn’t catch it. He was too busy hanging his head, scared to meet her gaze.

“Surprised?” The Riddler asked her with glee.

Her tears started again. But they weren’t just from being scared now. They were tears of betrayal.

“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t cry,” the Riddler mocked.

“You did what you wanted. Now let her go,” Jason growled.

He tugged at his ropes, but his knife wasn’t cutting fast enough.

“Let her go?” The Riddler was baffled. “Who said anything about letting her go? I said I wasn’t going to hurt her if you cooperated. But killing her is the only way I can hurt you, Red Hood. Don’t worry, I shall make it quick!”

With that he raised his gun to her head once again. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, truly believing this is how she was going to die.

“NO!” Jason screamed.

But right before pulling the trigger, Riddler’s grip was knocked away by a batarang.

Jason felt sick with relief when he turned to see Batman and Robin making their way to the Riddler.

Riddler was not a fighter. He always made a run for it.

But when he turned to do so, he was met with Nightwing blocking his path.

Jason felt someone drop behind him and realized that Red Robin was getting rid of his restraints.

Riddler looked around him with crazed eyes, realizing he was about to be outnumbered five to one. “This is too many vigilantes for my liking. Time for backup.” He pulled out a button and pressed it before Dick could rip the unknown device from his hands.

An explosion erupted in the warehouse, catching everyone off guard.

Tim had just finally released Jason from his restraints when the impact hit.

Jason saw as Y/N’s chair was knocked off its legs, taking her to the floor with it. Her head slammed against the hard concrete floor.

As soon as the explosion settled, Jason sprinted to her.

When he reached her, she was knocked unconscious. “Y/N! Come on, beautiful. You’re OK. You’re OK.”

But the words were to convince himself. He felt for a pulse and let out a sigh of relief when it was still strong.

Ever so carefully, he untied the ropes that held her to the chair. He ripped his jacket off his body and wrapped it around her shoulders. She seemed so small like this – so vulnerable. He’d tried so hard to keep her away from this darkness. And seeing her like this was the horrid reminder for why he’d lied to her about who he was.

His family watched with concern as Jason stood with her limp body in his arms. By some miracle, the blast missed all of them. It was used as more of a distraction than as an attempt to take any of them out.

Jason slowly walked to Bruce.

“Take her. Please.” His eyes desperate at first, but then they darkened. “There’s something I have to do.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “We had a deal.”

But he still gently took Y/N out of his arms.

“That was before her,” Jason answered as he took a final glance at Y/N.

“Jason, don’t do it,” Dick urged.

“Keep her safe,” was all Jason said before turning from them and running after the man that had put his love in danger.

“What shall we do with her?” Damian asked coldly as he eyed the young woman he was seeing for the first time.

“We’re taking her back to the manor,” Bruce told his sons.

“Is that wise?” Damian countered.

“He’ll need her. And she’ll need to know everything,” was all Bruce said as he started carrying Y/N to the batmobile.

————————

Y/N wasn’t awoken by people screaming from the streets below or the garbage truck coming too early to throw every neighbor’s trash can around at 5AM. She couldn’t hear the blasting of her window unit air conditioning.

No, instead she heard birds chirping outside and the wind rustling countless trees.

Did she even have a single tree on her block?

She squinted her eyes open and the night came rushing back to her.

Goons storming into her apartment, ripping her from her bed and throwing a bag over her head. Y/N just remembered thinking, “I’m just glad Jason wasn’t here. At least he’s safe.”

But Jason was far from safe. He was Red Hood: the infamous anti-hero that half of Gotham thought was a murderer and the other half swore he was just as much of a hero as the the other masked vigilantes.

How did she not see it sooner?

The random cuts and bruises. Constantly missing dates. Late-night texts when she had already fallen asleep. Always being exhausted when he was present.

But it was easy to ignore all of this because when they were together, things were good – no, things were amazing.

No man had ever made Y/N feel more seen and loved and appreciated. In fact, before him, Y/N had come to terms with being alone for the rest of her life. She made peace with it, had no problem with it.

But then Jason came stumbling into her life. And he didn’t accept Y/N being unloved the way she did. It was the thing that made him get over his own self-hatred and constant need to punish himself. If he wasn’t going to love Y/N for him, then he’d love Y/N because that’s what she deserved.

And Y/N felt that.

But he wasn’t who she thought he was. He had lied to her over and over again. When she was concerned over his injuries, he made up story after story. When she asked where he’d been after skipping a date, he used work as an excuse.

Did Y/N actually know Jason Todd at all?

Or had she only seen what she wanted to see?

Did the man she love even exist?

These were the questions racing through Y/N’s mind as she awoke in a bedroom that she didn’t recognize. Bedroom – if that’s even what she could call it. It felt more like a palace. She’d never slept on softer sheets or a comfier mattress. The room was bigger than her entire apartment. And from what she could see in the ensuite bathroom, it looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel.

Y/N’s observations paused when she saw Red Hood’s leather jacket tossed on top of the fancy chaise lounge on the other side of the room. No, not Red Hood’s leather jacket. Jason’s. It was the only indication that he had been there.

Am I in Wayne Manor? Y/N asked herself.

At least Jason hadn’t lied about that, explaining his afflicted relationship with his family casually a few times. But in a way that always told Y/N he didn’t want to talk about it in depth.

The leather jacket then caused Y/N to look down at herself. She was wearing a white t-shirt and grey cotton sleep shorts. Clearly they were mens. Someone had changed her while she had been asleep – or…unconscious.

Fuck, her head really hurt.

Having enough of being confused, Y/N slipped out of the bed and decided she was going to hunt down an explanation.

The bedroom was placed in a long hallway. Taking a 50/50 chance, Y/N decided to go right instead of left.

She walked as quietly as possible, still feeling uncomfortable in such surroundings.

After she stepped down the most extravagant staircase she’d ever seen, she heard sounds come from around the corner. It sounded like movement in a kitchen.

When she reached a doorway, she saw an elderly man dressed as a butler. As he was cooking, he caught Y/N’s presence from the corner of his eye. He quickly turned and gave her a comforting smile.

“Ah! Ms. Y/L/N, your timing is impeccable. I was just finishing up breakfast.”

But she remained unsure of the situation.

“Oh, I do apologize. Where are my manners? I am Alfred Pennyworth.” He quickly stepped to her and offered his hand. “I am the butler for the Wayne family.”

“So…this is Wayne Manor?” Y/N asked after awkwardly shaking his hand in the doorway, completely forgetting to share her own name. But he cleary already knew it.

He smiled at her. “Yes, Master Wayne brought you here after last nights…theatrics.” Before either of them could discuss the “theatrics” he slyly mentioned, he pulled out a chair at the table in the kitchen. “Please, sit. You must be famished.”

This man hardly looked threatening, so she decided to follow his instructions.

Alfred quickly placed a large plate with a full English breakfast on it, a mug of steaming coffee, and a glass of water. Then he offered her a bottle of advil.

Y/N looked up at him with a curious glance.

“I can only assume your head is aching quite a bit. From what I was told, you took quite the fall from the explosion.”

At least Y/N knew she hadn’t imagined the nightmare. It was real. She quickly took two of the pills and chugged the glass of water.

Alfred didn’t hover, instead continuing to work on more breakfast.

But Y/N’s breakfast was quickly interrupted when Bruce Wayne walked into the kitchen.

He eyed her carefully, hiding his surprise at her being awake. Casually, he went to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked her.

Y/N was surprised how genuine his concern sounded.

“Confused,” she blustered out without meaning to.

Bruce smirked. “I meant your head.”

She cleared her throat. “Right. Ummm…just a terrible headache. But I think I’ll live.”

“Good.”

To her shock, Bruce sat across from her. He drank his coffee as his eyes raced across the tablet in his hand.

Y/N took a few bites of food before she had the courage to ask one of the many questions that were racing around her head.

“Where is Jason?” She asked slowly and carefully.

Alfred seemed to tense at the question and hesitated before saying, “Master Jason thought it best to give you some space.”

Y/N didn’t know what to make of his answer.

Bruce seemed to be studying her.

Y/N wanted to shrink under his scrutiny, but fought the feeling and met his gaze head on, as if challenging him.

“He’s in the cave,” Bruce told her evenly.

It seemed no one was trying to hide their family secrets from Y/N.

“I’d like to see him.”

Bruce and Alfred shared a look and what seemed to be a silent conversation.

After a moment, Bruce stood up. “I’ll take you.”

Y/N jumped out of her seat to follow him.

Next thing she knew, Bruce was taking her through a secret passage and there was a dark and dreary staircase in front of her.

Bruce gestured for her to go forward, silently telling her he wasn’t coming with.

As soon as Y/N started down the cold staircase, a shiver went down her spin. The temperature immediately dropped.

When she reached the bottom, she looked around and found Jason sparring with a man she recognized as Dick Grayson.

Jason did a double take as soon as Y/N took a step away from the staircase.

Dick followed his gaze and his face dropped.

The two men shared a look and their sparring ended.

Dick walked to her and gave Y/N a charming smile as he held out his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’m Dick.”

Y/N forced a shy smirk and shook his hand, but said nothing.

Now it was just Jason and Y/N.

Y/N’s arms tightly held herself because of the freezing temperature of the batcave, and because she didn’t know how this conversation was about to end.

“Hi,” Jason said awkwardly.

“Hi.”

“How’d you get down here?”

Y/N shrugged. “Bruce.”

Jason looked her up and down before quickly turning and grabbing the sweatshirt he had discarded before working out and sparring.

He handed it to her, making sure not to get too close. “Here. It gets fucking frigid in this stupid cave.”

Y/N quickly put it on. But she didn’t miss how Jason tried to keep his distance.

“I’m not scared of you,” she muttered.

He cocked an eyebrow, but she could still see the hurt in his face. “Really? Because you’re not looking at me like I’m the same person.”

“Because you’re not,” Y/N snapped.

Y/N imagined this conversation would be filled with rage. She thought she’d start yelling at Jason and then she wouldn’t be able to stop. She’d tell him how disappointed she was in him, how he was just like every other man who had hurt her. Her hands would be quivering in fists at her side. The anger…it would consume her.

So imagine her surprise when her bottom lip started trembling and tears started streaming down her face. And she could do nothing to stop it.

Little did she know that watching this hurt Jason more than her anger ever could.

He took a step toward her. It was his instinct – an instinct that was so hard to fight in this moment.

“You know…it’s really hard for me to let people in – no, it’s hard for me to let men in. I don’t trust them. I stop doing that a long time ago. But you – fuck – I don’t even know why now. But I did let you in. I really did. I told you things I’ve never told anyone. I trusted you. I…I loved you, Jason.”

Jason looked in more pain than ever before. His eyes watered from seeing the woman he loved breaking down like this. And it was no one else’s fault, but his own.

“But you hid this whole part of yourself. You lied to me. Every excuse you made for your bruises and cuts, you were lying. Every time you canceled a date, you were lying. And I’m realizing that you lied to me about your life more than you ever told me the truth.”

She tried to wipe away the tears, but they were coming down too fast.

“Was the Riddler serious?” She accused. “Have you killed all those people?”

“I have.”

Y/N studied him for a second. A part of her hadn’t expected him to admit it. She was waiting for him to give her another lie. After all, it came so naturally to him.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” She practically whimpered.

“Yes,” he answered quickly. “I just…I didn’t know how. I was scared.”

Was there even anything he could say that would make her hate him less?

Jason ran a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you. And I should’ve kept you safe. You almost–” He felt sick. “You were almost killed last night. And it was because of me.”

Y/N’s eyes went dark. “Did you kill him? Did you kill the Riddler?”

Jason’s jaw clenched and his hands turned into fists at the mentioning of the criminal’s name. “No, but I should’ve.”

In truth, he almost had. It hadn’t been hard to catch up to the bastard. Jason beat him to in an inch of his death. But not before he confirmed that no one else knew of Y/N’s existence. No, he didn’t kill the Riddler. But he beat him so badly that he would be in the coma for the rest of his days – unable to speak, meaning no one else would ever know about Y/N.

“I don’t do that anymore. Bruce and I…we have a deal.”

“He’s Batman,” she wasn’t asking. “And your brothers…” she didn’t need to finish.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.” His head hung low. “I don’t deserve it. And I never deserved you in the first place. I always knew that. It’s probably why it was so hard to tell you. Because I knew the moment I did… you’d see me for the monster I really am.”

Y/N’s eyes were red now and her nose congested.

“You don’t owe me anything. But I just…I need to tell you this before I never see you again,” Jason quickly said, sensing this was their final goodbye. “I love you. I didn’t even think I could love someone the way I love you, Y/N. You…you’ve made me better. And you’re probably the only reason I was able to stop myself from killing that son of a bitch last night.”

It was Y/N’s face Jason saw when he was beating the Riddler. And then he realized, in some twisted way, that such a death would also be on her hands. He could handle having blood on his hands forever. But would never do that to Y/N.

Then Jason’s word turned so, so quiet. “But I also know I can’t ask you to stay after everything I’ve done to you.”

And for a moment, the two of them just stared at one another.

Y/N tried to wipe the last of her tears away once again. “I think I should go,” she mumbled.

“You can’t go back to your apartment. It’s not safe there anymore. Bruce offered to let you stay here for as long as necessary. I’ll leave,” he quickly added. “So you don’t have to worry about being around me.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not staying here,” she said with a surprising amount of conviction. “I’ll stay with friends or something. But I don’t want to be here.”

What Y/N meant was that she didn’t want to be surrounded by the secrets Jason had kept from her. She didn’t want to be reminded of how little she actually knew him.

Somehow Jason seemed to realize that.

He took a cautious step toward her. “For what it’s worth, you do know me. I know you think that’s a lie. But no one sees me like you see me, Y/N. No one.” He pointed up. “Not even the fucked up people that call me their family.”

His words struck in a way she wasn’t expecting. But she made sure he didn’t know that and controlled her expression, staying as emotionless as possible.

Jason sighed, knowing this was their end. “Alfred will take you anywhere you want to go.”

He wanted to tell her more. He wanted to ask – no, to beg – to hold her. Just one last time. But he would never ask that of her. How could he?

So he just watched as Y/N slowly turned and made her way back of the stairs.

Jason wanted to memorize her face as if this was the last time he’d lay eyes on her. But he knew himself better than that. He’d make sure she was safe, add her to his patrol as if it was normal addition to his vigilante life. Y/N didn’t deserve to be at risk for the rest of her life because she made the mistake of loving a man like him.

————————

1 MONTH LATER.

————————

Y/N didn’t realize how hard it would be. She thought she could just go back to the life she had before Jason ever fought his way into her heart. But it took her a month to understand that was never going to happen. She’d never be able to just forget him.

She thought anger would take over and make her hate Jason. Hate was always easier than love. And Y/N was banking on that.

But after everything Jason did, Y/N still couldn’t find it in her heart to hate him.

Because, at the end of the day, they still loved each other.

Despite his secrets and his lies, Y/N knew that Jason had been telling the truth about his feelings for her. He really did love her. She had felt it every day. Even at the beginning of their relationship – before they realized what they were feeling was love – Y/N always felt how much Jason cared for her.

That was why all of this was so hard for her.

Take away the lies, the secret vigilante life, the killing. Take it all away. And Y/N knew she had never met another man that made her feel the way Jason did – or…had.

That was really what Y/N had finally realized over the past weeks. She had thought it was betrayal and fear.

No.

She now understood that what she was feeling was a broken heart.

It was a first for her. One had to be in love in order to get their heart broken. And the only man Y/N ever loved was Jason Todd.

As the understanding washed over Y/N, she was staring out the window. She’d made herself a cup of coffee, but had been so lost in her thoughts that she’d let it grow cold. Then she felt a tickling down her cheek and realized that she had started crying.

Suddenly there was a quick knock at the front door of her apartment.

Y/N squinted in suspicion at the sound and sloppily rubbed the tears off her face.

She slowly walked to door, but stopped a few feet away, and just stared at it as her heart rate increased.

After Riddler’s men broke into her home and ripped her from bed, she had been anxious and cautious about any and all unexpected visitors. She hadn’t been sleeping. Either she couldn’t fall asleep or if she did, her night was infested with nightmares.

“Y/N? It’s Dick Grayson,” a voice called from the other side of the door.

She let out a small sigh of relief. How long had she been holding her breath?

There was a part of her that was screaming to still ignore the uninvited guest, despite it being someone she knew. But how well did she actually know Dick Grayson?

Except the other part – the part that could admit she missed Jason – wanted to speak to anyone that was from the part of her life she was trying so hard to forget.

Ever so slowly, she opened the door.

“Hi,” Dick beamed at seeing her appear. His smile and eyes were warm and friendly in a way that none of the other boys were.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked with a bit of rudeness.

She didn’t appreciate him giving her a scare. Especially because her two best friends that she now lived with were out of town for the weekend.

“I was hoping I could talk to you,” he gave her a shy but hopeful grin. Then he held up a tray of coffee and a paper baggie. “I brought you a latte and some doughnuts.”

Y/N eyed him. Her first thought was that maybe something had happened to Jason. But Dick’s delivery proved that wasn’t the case.

Her only invitation to Dick was a widening of the door and making room for him to walk past her.

This seemed to make him happy though.

Y/N directed them to the little breakfast nook that was flooded in the morning light.

She didn’t waste any time. “Did Jason send you here?”

“No, Jason doesn’t know that I’m here,” Dick clarified as he slid one of the lattes to her side of the table.

Her nerves were the only reason she picked it up and started sipping, just trying to give herself something physical to do while Dick stared at her from across the little table.

“Is he OK?” She mumbled without looking at him.

Her pride wanted to her to shut up and not ask. But she couldn’t stop the question from spilling out, even though all evidence pointed to Dick having no bad news to share.

“He’s fine,” Dick quickly assured her. “Well…physically, at least.”

“What are you doing here, Dick?” She repeated her original question.

“It should be Bruce here, really. But he…” His words died out and then he cleared his throat. “Well, these types of things aren’t exactly his strong suit. Tim wanted to come, too. But I didn’t want to…overwhelm you.”

“And what ‘type’ of thing is this exactly?”

Dick took in a deep breath and then leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table.

“You deserve to know the story – the whole story. I’m not here to get you to forgive Jason or to change your mind about leaving him.” He rubbed his face. “But I just want you to know the truth about him before you live with those decisions.”

Y/N’s heart was racing now. She felt sick.

Was she even ready for this conversation?

“So, is that OK?” Dick asked her carefully.

After a moment, Y/N finally nodded her head.

Dick took a deep breath.

He knew where he needed to start. And he wasn’t just about to share Jason’s secrets, he was about to tell Y/N all of their secrets. But it was what needed to be done.

Dick told her about Jason living on the streets, how his dad abused him, and his mother was a drug addict that couldn’t protect her son. Little Jason Todd turned to crime to take care of himself and get enough money to take care of himself and his mom.

Dick smiled as he told her how Jason tried to steel Bruce’s wheels on the batmobile. That was the moment that Bruce knew he couldn’t leave such a desperate child on the streets. Then everything happened so quickly. Next thing Dick knew, Jason had replaced him as Robin and Bruce had a new sidekick.

“I should’ve been there for him more,” Dick confessed. “Jason didn’t just need a home and a parent… he needed a brother, too. And I take responsibility for not really being there for him. If I’m being honest, I was bitter. It was hard for me to see how quickly Bruce could just…”

“Replace you?” Y/N offered softly.

Dick swallowed and nodded.

This was the hard part. Now he had to explain how Jason died, how the Joker tricked a child who was desperate to find the truth about his mother. How a dead boy became a resurrected man.

Dick knew he couldn’t gloss over the gory details. Jason deserved better. He didn’t need to have his secrets protected from the first woman who loved him. He needed to be seen and still loved.

Dick watched as Y/N shifted in her seat, trying her best to compose herself as Dick told her about Jason dying so horribly and then being resurrected. Joker’s maniacal laugh flashed in Y/N’s mind. As Dick spoke, she could almost feel the warmth of the explosion that he’d set for Jason.

It was all so terrible.

How Jason was able to overcome it all left Y/N in awe of him.

“Jason has never really fully been himself since before…everything,” Dick said. “But it wasn’t fair that any of us ever expected that after what happened to him. I know there’s still so much that he’s never told any of us. And I’m not sure he ever will.”

Dick explained Jason’s rebellion from the family and his war with Bruce. Dick was the one that got emotional now, as his eyes glossed over, remembering how angry and ruthless Jason had been.

“Bruce has one rule: no killing.” Dick sighed and rubbed his face. “Jason thought he was being what Gotham needed. He was tired of watching criminal after criminal beat the system and repeatedly get set free. We eventually had to make a deal with him. We couldn’t stand by and let him continue on the way he was.”

Dick gave her a nervous look. “I can only assume that the hardest thing to wrap your mind around is the–”

“Killing,” Y/N quickly interrupted harshly.

Until now, she had remained quiet but engaged. Never interrupting or adding unnecessary responses.

“Yes,” Dick replied before tightening his jaw.

Y/N couldn’t look at him now. “I know–” She had to pause because her voice was shaking so much. “I know he did it to protect people. And I know – in his mind – that they deserved it, because they were bad people.”

“I might not agree with Jason’s views or his past actions. But one thing is for sure: Jason Todd has never killed an innocent.”

“I just don’t know if that’s enough,” Y/N said with teary eyes.

“I understand,” Dick nodded.

There had been a part of her that always knew Jason was fighting demons. But she could’ve never guessed how bad it had truly been for him.

How could he hide all of this from her?

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. After hearing Jason’s life story, how could she? Tears silently ran down her face. She wasn’t embarrassed to cry in front of Dick. He had such a calming presence about him.

Dick just let her consume everything he’d spent the past hour telling her. He just wanted to be there for her as she processed it.

So he sat there and let her cry. And eventually she got a hold of herself.

“You’re forgetting the most important part of this story,” Dick told her with a shy smile.

“I am?”

Dick nodded. “You.”

She scoffed at that.

“I’m being serious, Y/N.” Dick leaned forward again.

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t one to share her emotions and feelings freely. So she wasn’t about to open up to her ex’s older brother, whom she hardly knew.

“He loves you, Y/N.” Dick insisted.

“None of you even knew about me,” Y/N tried to argue.

“That’s not true. Just because he didn’t tell us directly doesn’t mean we didn’t know about you.” Dick smirked. “We’re a nosey bunch. When we noticed a change in him – a good change – we did a little investigating.”

Y/N couldn’t find it in her to tell Dick that Jason made her change for the better too.

So she changed the subject to what was really stopping her from running back into Jason’s arms despite all the lies and secrets.

“How did you get over it?” Her voice was so quite that it was almost a whisper.

“Get over what?” Dick squinted.

“The killing.”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Police Officers kill people every day.”

Y/N made a look of disgust. “Law enforcement in this country is corrupt. I figured a man who felt the need to wear a mask and become a vigilante was well aware of that.”

Dick winced. “Why do you think Gotham is so hard to clean up?”

She stayed quiet.

“Soldiers have killed more people on a single tour than Jason has,” Dick continued.

“Soldiers are following orders,” Y/N countered. “Orders from authority whose ethics and motives are often questionable.”

“Exactly.” Dick’s back straightened. “We’ve normalized both of those things. But I can assure you of one thing, Jason has no ulterior motives. There is no systemic prejudice that controls his actions. Just right and wrong, good and evil.”

Then he rubbed his face, wondering if he wanted to say the next part. “When things with Jason were bad – really bad – and I thought I would have to be the one that put him behind bars, the one thing that gave me hope was knowing that Jason had rid the world of evil. That doesn’t mean I condone his actions…but it helps me sleep at night.”

Silence filled the apartment. Y/N was still processing the information. And Dick didn’t want to force her to talk or speak just to fill the silence.

Slowly, Dick rose from his seat.

“I don’t want to intrude any more than I already have,” he told her gently.

There were those classic Wayne manners that both Bruce and Alfred had ingrained in him. It reminded Y/N of Jason. Even though Jason had a dark, sarcastic sense of humor and quite the temper, Y/N couldn’t remember a time when the man didn’t say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ – not to mention all the old-school gentlemanly gestures that always caught her off guard.

Y/N followed Dick to the door.

He hesitated. “Thank you for listening, Y/N.”

She just nodded.

“Like I said when I got here, I’m not telling you what to do. All I ask is that you consider everything you learned.”

She nodded again. “You’re a good brother, Dick.”

He chuckled darkly at that. “Jason would disagree with you on that. I’m lucky if he even calls me his brother most of the time.”

Y/N managed to force a shy smirk on her lips for his benefit.

Then Dick was reaching into his pocket for a piece of paper. He slowly handed it over.

She looked down to see what appeared to be an address. “What’s this?”

“The safe house Jason’s been hiding out in since you last talked.” Then he gave her one final nod. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

————————————— 3 WEEKS LATER. —————————————

Jason had been on autopilot these past couple of months. He let his work take over his life. To make matters worse, he barely added eating and sleeping to that mix. The only reason he managed to get himself to eat was to keep his strength up… so he could keep working.

Right now was the one of the few times his exhaustion was so heavy that he managed to get a couple hours of sleep.

That is until one of the alarms for his safe house went off.

Someone had triggered the sensor for the floor.

It could easily be a homeless person. It wouldn’t be the first time. But that assumption went on the window when Jason heard a polite knock at his front door.

Completely silent, Jason moved out of bed and grabbed the gun that sat on his nightstand.

Quickly he tiptoed to the door and waited, half expecting someone to start shooting. It wouldn’t have mattered, seeing as the door was made out of bulletproof steel.

Without making a sound, he made his way to the peephole.

When he spotted who was on the other side, his body moved on reflex alone. He instantly put the gun on safety and whipped open the door.

His guest jumped a little in surprise.

“Y/N,” Jason gasped.

Once she got over the scare, she seemed to take in his appearance.

Jason looked awful. There were shadows under his eyes. His hair looked greasy from the lack of washing. And because he was “working” so much, his body was littered in more injuries than usual. He stood completely shirtless in black boxer briefs.

But the only thing Jason was embarrassed about was his autopsy scar that was on full display for her.

Yes, Y/N had seen and felt it. But it was always in the cover of darkness. If they had sex in daylight, Jason always found a way to keep a shirt on. It was always effortless and subtle. Plus Y/N was so preoccupied with the passion between them that she never really considered how self-conscious he was about it.

Once again, Y/N was wondering why she normalized things like that instead of pushing Jason to open up about things he was obviously hiding.

She had assumed they were scars from his childhood. He had told her his dad was abusive and his mom did nothing to protect him. Y/N thought the scars were from an incident – an incident that was too traumatizing for him open up to her about.

But they were autopsy scars… Because Jason had died once.

“Did I wake you?” She asked him gently.

“No,” he quickly lied. Then he shook his head, still processing that she was standing in front of him. “Come in,” he hurriedly added.

She game him a grateful nod and walked past him.

Her eyes quickly took in the safe house. It looked like an industrial loft. But what she was really locking on to was the multiple tables covered in weapons and gear.

After all that time of Jason’s vigilante life being hidden, now it was all completely on display for her to see.

“Are you OK?” Jason quickly asked her.

She nodded.

“How is your new place?” He then asked.

“Fine,” she offered.

“Your roommates are OK?”

She nodded again.

“Are you sleeping alright?”

“Jason,” she said it sternly, in a tone that she knew would make him finally stop with the frantic questions. “I came to talk to you.”

This took him aback.

Then he looked around him. There was a fold out table a few feet away from them.

“Here,” he muttered before rushing forward and moving what appeared to be a dozen knives and multiple guns.

He pulled out one of the chairs and motioned for her to sit.

Then Jason seemed to finally realize his state of undress. “I’ll…just give me a second.”

Y/N would’ve laughed at his adorable franticness. But she was too busy feeling nauseous and anxious.

She turned her back to him changing since the loft style gave little privacy. 30 seconds later, Jason was moving back to the table and sitting across from her in a black hoodie and sweatpants.

Y/N gently cleared her throat. Her gaze couldn’t meet Jason’s as she said, “Dick came to see me.”

Jason’s face darkened. “I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have done that. I’ll ta–”

“No, it’s fine.” Then she shifted in her seat. “He came to…uhh…he came to talk to me about you, actually.”

That wasn’t what Jason was expecting.

“He told me everything,” she stated. “I mean, everything you never did.”

The true meaning of her words slowly washed over Jason.

He leaned back in his chair, his massive form making it squeak.

Y/N took in a shaky breath. “Jason…I’m-I’m so sorry.”

He shifted his weight.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/N.” He told her quietly.

Usually Jason’s death and resurrection was a joke. He loved making his family cringe, shrink, and become uncomfortable with his dark humor about it. That was just how he’d grown to deal with it all.

But he couldn’t do the same for Y/N.

A few beats of silence passed between them.

“I miss you,” Y/N finally told him.

Jason’s eyes widened at the confession. “I miss you, too.”

Silence again.

“Was I just part of a cover?” She quickly asked him.

“No,” he immediately answered.

“Was our relationship even real?”

“Yes, Y/N. I promise you that it was.”

Y/N bit her lip. She came here with no plan. And now it was starting to feel very real. She knew what she needed to know and she knew what she needed to say. But she wasn’t sure how to get there.

“Do you still love me?” She whispered.

Jason flinched at the question – not because of the answer, but because she felt the need to even ask it.

He nodded.

“After everything that’s happened,” she began, “what would a relationship between us even be, Jason?”

This was not the follow-up question he was expecting.

“What do you want it to be?”

But what he really wanted to say was it could be anything she wanted. He would do absolutely anything to get her back. Anything.

Still, he didn’t want to push her. So he let her take the lead.

“No more lies,” Y/N demanded. Jason opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “I know you can’t tell me the details of the nightly occurrences from your…other life.”

“It was to keep you safe,” he tried to explain. “The less you know, the safer you are. No one can try to use you for information.”

Y/N nodded in understanding. “I’m saying no more lies about where you are or why you can’t make something. And no more hiding injuries.”

Jason nodded firmly, trying to mask his eagerness.

“But more importantly…No more lies about your past. Dick may have told me everything he knew. But I know there’s missing parts and it’s only his perspective.” Then she hesitated, “And I’d…I’d like to hear it from you.”

Jason felt sick by the idea. He thought maybe he’d gotten out of such a request because of his nosey brother.

“You might not like what you find…” he warned her.

But Y/N was already shaking her head. “You know me inside and out.”

Jason did a weird half shrug, half nod. “I like to think so.”

“Don’t you think I deserve the same?”

Jason knew he had a point. But he loved everything about her. Y/N’s flaws weren’t even flaws to him. They were just what made her the woman she was. And that so happened to a woman he was deeply in love with.

But his sins? They were what convinced him that he was unlovable – a monster.

“You do,” Jason agreed with a mumble.

Y/N struggled to swallow with how dry her throat had suddenly become. “You had made a deal with your family – a deal you almost broke because of me.”

Jason knew what she was really asking. She didn’t even really know what she wanted.

“You want to know about the people I’ve killed,” he said low and even.

But she didn’t answer.

Jason leaned forward on the table and thought over her request. He rubbed the scruff on his jawline and chin.

“One was a man who was trying to rip down the pants of 5 year old girl in an alley of the Narrows.” His expression and tone was numb as he started listing them. “Another was an abusive husband that pushed his pregnant wife down a flight of stairs, causing her to have a miscarriage and almost die.”

Y/N felt sick as she listened.

“The last person I killed was Gotham’s number one human trafficker. When I asked him – with a gun to his head – how he had such a lack of remorse, he said, ‘These sickos are going to find their fun one place or another, I might as well make a buck off it.’”

Y/N could tell as Jason shared these stories that he felt no remorse for his executions.

“Bruce would tell you that every one deserves a chance to change. Or he’ll tell you that we’re not the law, we’re just enforcing it.” Jason shook his head. “But I’ve seen thousands of rapists, murderers, and – god knows what else – get freed time and time again. They may get locked up for a bit, but most of them find their way back on the streets. The system is broken. I know it. You know it. And Bruce knows it.”

Then his eyes darkened. “And before you ask, I wouldn’t take any of it back. Truthfully, I believe the world is a better place without those fuckers in it.”

As harsh as it sounded, Y/N appreciated the honesty. And perhaps there was a part of her that agreed with him.

Jason was right: she did know the system was broken, just as much as he did. But she wasn’t in a position to execute the same justice as he could.

“Can I ask you something in return?” The softness in his voice surprised Y/N.

She nodded her head.

“That morning at the manor…you said you weren’t scared of me.” He paused. “Were you telling the truth?”

“I wasn’t scared of you – at least, not like you’re implying. I felt–” She searched for the right word. “Defenseless. Because you knew me, but I didn’t know you anymore. Does that make sense?”

Jason nodded. “And what about now? After knowing all I’ve done.”

To his surprise, Y/N reached across the table and gently grabbed one his hands. She held it in her grasp, tracing the lines in his palm. The skin was rough and scarred.

After so long without it, the feeling of her touch caused a shiver to go down Jason’s spine.

Y/N knew these hands had killed dozens of people. But she also knew that they’d been nothing but gentle with her.

“You’ve never hurt me, Jason.”

“I never would,” he answered quietly, almost with a certain desperation.

She nodded, already knowing that.

“No matter what happens with us, I don’t ever want you to be scared of me, Y/N.”

Then she was crying and jumped from her seat. Without even thinking, she was on the other side of the table, throwing herself onto Jason’s lap, and wrapping her arms around him. Jason pulled her even tighter to him, cradling her face to his neck.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything. I just…I just want you back. OK?”

Y/N pulled away and Jason wiped the tears from her cheeks. She nodded and gave him a teary smile, “OK.”

Their relationship wouldn’t mend itself just like that. They were going to have to work at it. But with all their secrets on the table, they knew what they were fighting. And from now on, they were going to face them together.

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

Yeesh. That one was a lot.

Let me know what you think!

(If you have criticisms about how I wrote Jason, I’d love to hear them, just don’t be a fucking asshole about it. There’s a right way to give feedback and there’s definitely a wrong way.)

#jason todd #jason todd fic #red hood #red hood fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #batfam #batman fandom #batman fic

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kpop-cakepops · 4 years ago

Note

I will gladly read any Wonwoo fluff you would give us be it snuggle donation or otherwise! But if I can be more specific in requesting, how about a missed connection sort of thing? Like the reader and Wonwoo have similar circles of friends who think they’d hit it off, but somehow they just never manage to be at the same events, but then they end up meeting separate from their friends and do hit it off, only to be a couple before their friends even know they’ve met? If that’s too specific, totally do whatever you want with the idea. Welcome to Wonwoo brain domination (my friend incepted my mind last year too and it’s been all Wonwoo all of the time since!)

omg this is actually such a good prompt?!?!?!!? What the hell?! Thank you anon!!!

So this one actually took way longer than expected because I knew what I wanted to do but I didn't know how to not make it confusing? So the best I could do was use time skips in this one, anything in italics are flashbacks.... I HOPE IT'S NOT CONFUSING! Anyhow, I had so much fun writing this! Enjoy! (PS. I didn't edit so excuse any grammar mistakes LOLz)

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,863

Meant To Be// Jeon WonwooXfem!Reader

"There he is again... I wonder if he's single." your older sister said as she struggled to keep your baby nephew from running away from the bench the two of you were sitting at.

"Probably not," you told her as you bit into your popsicle. "He's handsome. Probably has a bunch of girls lining up to get his number"

"He's playing video games at a park, I seriously doubt that" your sister added.

"I think it's kinda cute. At least he comes out because he wants to" you looked over at your sister who was now too busy chasing after your little nephew to even listen to you. "Aaaaand I was talking to myself. Cool."

You huffed and looked over at the man sat two benches over. He seemed to be having fun on his Nintendo switch and you were sure you weren't having fun babysitting your sister while she tried to babysit her own son... so you took matters into your own hands and walked yourself over to the man.

"Hey, mind if I sit here?" You asked.

The stranger looked up from his game and moved to the side making space for you to sit down. He didn't talk at all but didn't show himself to be rude either. You took the chance to take out your own console.

"What are you playing?" You asked.

He turned around and looked at your hands, his eyes widening a little but the look of surprise was replaced by a smile almost instantly. "Super Smash Bros."

You didn't know what you expected his voice to sound like, but it certainly hadn't been the deep tone you had just received. "Damn, nice voice" you blurted.

He let out a laugh, "what's your name?"

"I'm y/n" you introduced yourself putting your hand out to shake his, "and you?"

He took your hand cautiously, "I'm Wonwoo"

***

"How does this dress look?" You asked as you twirled in front of your now boyfriend of 3 months, Wonwoo.

He smiled approvingly, "baby you look just as amazing as you did in the last dress. You really don't have to worry too much about impressing my friends, they're all a bunch of idiots."

"Well, yes, but... what if they don't like me? I'm the reason you refused all those blind dates they kept setting you up on." You told him.

"And I'm the reason you refused yours, the time will come when I have to meet your friends, too. I promise you there's no reason for us to be worried." He pulled you close and kissed the top of your head.

"I'm just excited to finally meet your friends," you told him. "I want to make a good impression."

"The way you make me smile should be impressive enough, no?" He brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Getting a little cheesy there, aren't we?" You poked his stomach and pulled away. "Anyways. We should get going or we're going to be late!"

***

"You should come up. Some of my friends are still up there. We could hang out" said Wonwoo as he pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. His tall frame rocking back and forth as he watched you wistfully.

"I really wish I could, but I actually have to go back to work in a bit. I just didn't want for your birthday gift to get to your hands after your special day" You shyly admitted. He held his hand to the necklace that was now hanging from his neck. The pendant hanging from it depicting the Smash ball from the game's logo. Something about him immediately putting the necklace on making your heart race.

"I really wish you could stay, but I guess, you'll just have to make it up to me some other day." He said.

You reached out your pinky and he wrapped his own with yours. "I promise" You told him.

He smiled and you waited expectantly for his nose to scrunch up like you'd learned it would in the last 4 months of knowing the guy. It was weird how after fighting off cheesy romance and dates, you ended up developing a crush on some random guy you'd met at the park.

The both of you stood there for a moment, pinkies linked together as you let the sparks envelope you both. It was obvious you liked each other, however, neither of you seemed to know who should make the first move... nor did you know when.

***

You and Wonwoo arrived at the large hotel his friends had told him to meet them at. A shiver ran down your spine making you take a nervous deep breath. Your boyfriend grinned at your cuteness and squeezed your hand softly before guiding you towards the entrance.

"Oh, God... Maybe I should've brought a gift?" You grumbled as you followed Wonwoo into the hotel. A sudden feeling of guilt taking over you as you remember your own friend, Jihoon, was having a graduation dinner that you couldn't go to because of this. You'd managed to drop off a gift for him days before, but it still bugged you. Jihoon was one of your closest friends after all.

"Honey, it's totally fine. I promise Jihoon won't mind that you didn't bring him a gift" he assured you as he held the door of the fancy restaurant open for you.

"Wait, what did you say?" You asked as you stopped in your tracks. Your boyfriend shooting you a confused look.

"Y-N?"

***

"I don't know, I think my favorite has to be biographies. I'm just nosy" you laughed, Wonwoo following along.

"Hmmm, I mean, biographies are nice, but I've been into humanities lately. It's interesting" He shrugged and licked at his ice cream cone happily. "I used to hate it in high school but I think as I grew up a grew more interested in the way people live... outside of just myself."

"Wow..." you mused.

"What? Was that sexy?" he joked.

You shook your head, "No, you're such a nerd" You teased.

"Hey!" he quipped bumping his shoulder into yours.

"Watch it! I almost dropped my ice cream cone!" Your attempt to seem angry failed by the big smile on your face. It seemed that was all you did around Wonwoo anyways. Smile.

"What flavor is that?" he asked as he eyed your cone curiously.

You put the cone up to his lips, "Butter pecan" You didn't know what exactly you were expecting when you put the cone up to his lips, 75% of you had thought he'd playfully push your hand away while calling it a grandma flavor as he usually did, while the resting 25% of you thought he'd just ignore it and keep walking... but both assumptions were wrong. Wonwoo grabbed your hand with his free one holding the cone in place before getting a taste. It was absolutely insane how much that made your heart race. "Hey! what was that all about?"

"I want to get a taste... but I can't... taste it... maybe I should-" He froze mid-sentence. Wonwoo was nervous. His face was a deep pink as he eyed you closely.

"W-Wonwoo. Are you trying to kiss me right now?" You asked. You wanted to scream and run away but you also wanted to stick around and see if he would.

"I was supposed to be at a blind date today" He admitted.

"Me too," you told him.

"But all I could think of was you" He continued.

"Me too," you agreed once again.

"Y/N, I like you."

***

"What the hell is going on here?" Jihoon's face was twisted in confusion as he stared between the two of you.

"You know each other?" Asked Wonwoo.

Jihoon blinked hurriedly before finding his voice again, "Uh, I think I should be the one asking you that!"

"My head is about to explode" You murmured.

"Yah, Jihoon, Dokyeom just spilled- Oh, Y/N? What are you doing here... with Wonwoo?" Yet another one of your best friends walked out of the restaurant, Jeongyeon's large eyes looking at you and your boyfriend with the same confused expression as Jihoon.

"They got here together," Jihoon announced.

"You two know each other?" Asked Jeongyeon.

"Yeah, Wonwoo's my boyfriend"

"Yeah... we're dating" Wonwoo agreed.

"WHAT?!"

***

"Y/N, pleaseeeeee? I promise you're going to love this guy. He is such a sweet person, he will literally blow you away, and he's handsome! Did I mention he's handsome?!" Jeongyeon's hands were clasped together in front of her chest. It was once a month that she begged for you to go on a blind date with that guy she always talked about, but you shook your head.

"No."

"Why not?! What is it this time!?" Your pretty friend exclaimed as she crossed her arms across her chest.'I have a boyfriend now' You thought, a small smile coming to your lips at the thought of Wonwoo.

"I'm not interested in dating Jjeong. Please, can't we just let it go?" you asked with a soft huff. "We have better things to do anyway. Come on, why don't you let me take a look at your thesis so far."

Jeongyeon huffed and started to pull out her laptop from her book bag. "I can't wait till you meet him. You're gonna regret it"

***

"Wait, pause... so you mean to tell me that we spent ALL THOSE MONTHS trying to set the two of you up... only for you two to meet at a random park and fall in love?!" Soonyoung was being his usual dramatic self again as he glared at you two from across the table.

"I mean, we didn't fall in love right off the bat... but yes. You could say that" Wonwoo answered.

"Wow! I just got chills. I JUST GOT CHILLS!" Dokyeom added as he dramatically hugged himself.

"I just don't understand why neither of you guys told us you were dating! Like... How did we miss it? Where did you hide each other?" Asked Jisoo with a confused frown.

"We didn't. We were friends for about 4 months before we started dating. I even went to drop off his gift at his apartment on his birthday."

"The necklace! I knew I'd seen it somewhere!" Seungcheol exclaimed with wide eyes. "You sent me a picture of the thing and asked if you should get it black or purple!"

"I also asked you for tips on how to confess to a girl over ice cream and got me laughed at." Wonwoo huffed under his breath.

You laughed and shook your head. "You were right, Woo. Your friends are indeed a bunch of idiots"

"Wow... You guys are meant to be. You guys are seriously meant to be. There is no doubt in my mind. I guess when soulmates are meant to meet, they will." chirped Jihoon who kept picking at his plate. "Now that that's all out, I'd like to take a moment to talk about how if Y/N hadn't been dating Wonwoo, she would have missed my graduation dinner for a man. What have you got to say for yourself, traitor?"

"Uh..."

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bbyboybrock--archived · 4 years ago

Text

His Secret (Colby Brock Imagine)

Summary: *REQUEST* Hi! I really loved your dark Colby fic and I was wondering if you could do another one (if requests are still open 🥺) maybe something like the reader is a YouTuber and friends with Sam and Sam knows that Colby gets kinda obsessive with girls he likes so he doesn't introduce them but one day Colby comes across one of her videos and immediately becomes obsessed with her and she ends up being quarintined in the new trap house and Sam can't really do anything to stop Colby. If you can thank you🥺

Written: 2020

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: obsession, swearing

Masterlist

“Thanks again for letting me stay with you guys. I think if I had to be quarantined alone in my apartment, I would have lost my shit. And it’s only two weeks so I promise to be out of here as soon as quarantine is up.” I say I grab the last bag out of my car.

When news first hit that the entire country was going to shut down for two weeks, I kind of freaked. As a YouTuber, you would expect me to be okay with a few days stuck in my apartment alone. The thing is, I hate being alone so much I’m barely even at my apartment. I asked around all my friends and none of them had a spare room and didn’t feel comfortable forcing me to sleep on the couch for that long. Sam didn’t agree at first, mainly because he was moving about a week into quarantine but he called me yesterday saying I could stay with them.

It’s not that I hate being alone, it’s just that I do well with other people. The only reason why I live alone in the first place is because all of my friends already had roommates or prior living arrangements. By the time I decided to move out of my parents’ house and become a proper LA YouTuber, living alone was the only option. I spend more time at my friend’s places or relaxing in a public place. I’ve considered many times just to get some sort of pet but I can barely keep myself alive, let alone another creature.

“It’s no problem Y/N, it’s like having another roommate. Besides, we have an extra room. It wouldn’t have sat right with me if I knew you were freaking out in your apartment when you could be hanging out here.” Sam says as he helps move one of my bags.

“I love how much you get me. This is why we’re such great friends.” I close the door behind us just as Sam’s phone starts to ring.

“Oh shoot, let me get this.” Sam carefully puts my bag down and walks away to answer the phone.

I look around the house for a bit, just to see where I’m going to be living for the next two weeks. I stumble into what I think is going to be the living room. There are boxes scattered all over and a few couches. I look out the window into the backyard. I get why Sam and his roommates joked that they were moving to Hawaii, their backyard is tropical and out of place for LA. If I didn’t know any better I would have thought that I was currently in Hawaii.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” A strange voice says from behind me. I jump and nearly fall on my ass but instead I bump into someone. I turn around and meet a face that I vaguely recognize.

“Sorry, I didn’t know someone else was here. You must be Colby. I’ve heard so much about you from Sam.” I stick my hand out to properly greet Colby. Colby takes my hand and shakes it awkwardly.

“That means you must be our temporary roommate, Y/N. Sam hasn’t told me too much about you. I kind of looked you up a watched a few of your videos. Now I sound like a creep.” Colby starts to blush and nervously scratches the back of his head.

“Hey sorry about that, that was— I see that you two met already…” Sam stops dead in his tracks and looks at both Colby and me.

“Yeah, I quite literally bumped into him. Anyway, what were you saying?” I set down my bag and sit down on the counter.

“Oh yeah! That was Kat, there’s an emergency and I need to go to her place for a bit. I was going to give you a tour of the house and I know we talked about going grocery shopping together before the stores close, but we can do that when we get back.”

“Or she can stay here and I could do everything. I can show her around the house and go with her to the store. It wouldn’t be a problem.” Colby mentions. Sam looks between the two of us again, this time his eyes look concerned.

“Colby, can I talk to you in private for a second?” Colby smiles at me before following Sam into the other room. I look around the kitchen while Sam and Colby talk.

There are still boxes everywhere, but it looks pretty organized. I remember hearing about the horrors of the first trap house so who knows how long this will last. The guys moved in officially on Monday, the first day of the quarantine, but I let them spend the first two days in their new house before I came to disrupt their new lives.

“Okay, it’s set. Colby will help you out while I go help Kat at her place. I hope you don’t hate me for bailing on you right now.” Sam says as he hugs me.

“No, it’s fine. You’ve done enough helping me find a place to stay during this. Go, help your girlfriend. We’ll be here when you get back.” Sam looks at both of us suspiciously before finally leaving.

“Alright, I guess I’ll show you around the house now.” Colby grabs the bag that Sam dropped on the floor and stretches out his hand for me to take. I hesitantly take Colby’s hand and follow him through the house.

Colby and I sit in the drive-through line for Jack in the Box. We had already gone grocery shopping and decided to get something to eat to take home for lunch. The stores were packed and we barely found some of the stuff we needed. It’s like everyone is panic buying for their apocalypse shelters. We’re only going to be locked down for two weeks, I don’t get why they’re freaking out. We were in line so long that we needed to eat as soon as possible, and I don't have the energy to cook as soon as we get back.

“You know what? I’ve been friends with Sam for so long and I’ve pretty much met every single person in your friend group. It’s kind of weird that I haven’t met Sam’s other half until today.” Colby mumbles something under his breath and turns to the menu for a second.

“You like the number 2, right?” He asks.

“What? I mean, yeah I do. How did you know that?” I raise my eyebrow and stare at Colby, who is refusing to look at me.

“I guessed,” Colby rolls down his window, “Hey can I get a number 1 with a coke? And can I also get a number 2 with a Mr.Pibb, no ice, and curly fries? Oh, and stuffed jalapeño?”

“How the fuck did you get my entire order right, down to the drink and the stuffed jalapeños? Did Sam tell you or something?” I watch as Colby rolls the window back up and drives up.

“Um… this is going to sound bad. But I found your channel a few months ago and since then I’ve been a bit of a fan. You mentioned it one time in a video and I remembered it. Now you’re going to think I’m a creep and not want to stay with us anymore.” Colby ruffles his hair before reaching for his wallet. I sit quietly on the side while he pays for our food.

He did that at the store too. While we were looking for food he would just put something that I like in the cart and lead us to specific aisles that I normally go down. I guess him being a fan makes a bit of sense. I must have mentioned all that stuff in a video or live one time. I’m a creature of habit so I get the same things every time. It’s still a bit creepy, but I shouldn’t read too much into it, I’m going to be living with him for two weeks.

****

Sam and I sit in my temporary room, playing video games. I spent time with Jake, Corey, and Colby earlier but Sam could sense my social bar declining rapidly so he pulled me away. I’m sure I’ll get to know the other roommates during the two weeks I’m stuck with them for quarantine, but for now, I can only deal with them for so long. There is so much chaotic energy in this house.

“Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you. How was Colby earlier?” Sam asks as he passes me up in Mariokart.

“It was fine. We got everything we needed, minus the toilet paper because people are crazy. You should have told me he was a fan though, it would have made things less awkward.” Just as I’m about to red shell Sam, he pauses the game.

“What do you mean awkward? What happened?” Sam turns and locks eyes with me. His eyes droop with concern.

“I just mean, you know how fans can be. There’s a certain breed that knows just a little too much about you. It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it. He’s not like a creep or anything. Or at least, he didn’t try to pull anything if that’s what you’re worried about.” I turn back to the tv and press play.

I quickly red shell Sam and pull into first place. He doesn’t say anything as he drifts into second place, which normally he does. From the corner of my eye, I can see Sam biting his lip and furrowing his brows, deep in thought.

“Sam,” I sigh as I pause the game again, “if you need to tell me something, you might as well tell me now. You know, instead of weighing the outcome of telling me. What is it?” I place the remote on the floor and turn my full body to face Sam.

“Look, it’s nothing bad or really serious. It’s just… Colby.” Sam flips his hair out of his eyes and stares at me.

“What, is he some serial stalker who ends up murdering his victims?”

“No, not exactly. Wait, that sounds bad. Okay, so Colby has this… issue with getting obsessed with girls. Like in an almost creepy way. Which is why he’s single. This is starting to sound bad again. Colby has a thing for pretty girls. And you aren’t bad to look at.”

“Oh my God, Samuel you have a girlfriend.” I joke.

“Shut up, Y/N, you know what I mean. Anyway, when Colby finds a girl, he’ll get so completely wrapped up, almost like a crush but then times more intense. He’ll try to find out anything and everything he can about them. It’ll get to the point that he’ll try to get with them but then get bored because they aren’t like the person he envisioned them to be and hurt them. I knew that you had recently fallen into his radar, which is why I didn’t want you staying with us at first, but you were desperate. I’m not trying to freak you out, I’m just being honest and open. I should have told you before. I talked to him before and I guess he wasn’t paying attention.”

My breath stays stuck in my throat. I swallow hard and stare back at Sam. His blue eyes are soft like he’s afraid that I’m going to stop being friends with him because of Colby.

“He’s not going to like, jump me to anything, right?” I tuck my hair behind my ear and fix my posture.

“Of course not. He would never, but I get being worried about that after hearing everything.” Sam puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently.

“Well, quarantine is only going last for two weeks. I’m not going to be stuck here longer than that. So I can deal with this for now. Then I can move back to my apartment and we can go back to just the two of us hanging out.” I pat Sam’s arm that’s resting on my shoulder and smile at him.

“As long as you’re okay with it. If you up and leave anytime during the two weeks I won’t be offended.” Sam says smiling back.

“You know I hate being alone. Now let’s stop talking about this so I can’t go back to whipping your ass in Mariokart!” I quickly grab my controller and press play before Sam is ready.

“Hey, you fucking cheater!” He yells as he scrambles to get his controller.

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ivory-sunflower · 4 years ago

Text

Arty Art Things ✨

Hellooo!

I've decided to post some of the arty things I've done either recently or in the last few years, well the pieces I'm somewhat proud of at least. All my posts tend to be a lot more wordy than they need to be but hey it's what I do here!

Conchúr White

Anyone one who's been on this blog for a bit will have probably have seen me talk about this lovely Irish fella. The pencil drawing is actually a year old as of yesterday, I only know that because screenshots of me flipping out about Conchúr following me on twitter popped up in my memories yesterday. I think I'd sent it to him at about 3 in the morning (I was not in a good head space at that point in time), so probably not what he was expecting to see when he opened his phone in the morning aha

The biro version is much more recent: I got bored while sat at my desk and doing research about university courses, saw a biro, saw my old drawing of Conchúr, had an idea. I revisited my GCSE art techniques and here we are. Again, I put this up on Twitter and now (at the the time I'm writing this) when you google "Conchúr White" it's the third top image of him which is a bit mad really. I think I spent all of about 20 minutes on Conchúr but another 45 minutes on the words behind him. The words are the names of the songs on his EP 'Bikini Crops', he doesn't just really love the idea of Channing Tatum driving him around at night in a daisy print bikini... Well maybe he does but what he does in his spare time is none of my business...

TechDif

So I mentioned that the pencil drawing of Conchúr came from a rough patch in my mental health and this one is no different! In fact this one came from an even worse circumstance so we love to see it. I had a bad, bad time in July and this started as a way of distracting myself from what was going on in my head. Without it, I can't honestly say I'd still be here so even if the final product of this had been a terrible mess I would still love it for keeping me alive. However, it did not turn out to be a terrible mess!

Now that the origin of this is out the way, where do I start with TechDif? Unlike Conchúr, I haven't really talked about them on here (unless you count one brief post about Citation Needed) before so I guess I'll do it here. The Technical Difficulties are a wonderful group of 4 British fellas who have had their fair share of fun online and even before. They did a radio show at university together, which went on to become their Reverse Trivia Podcast, later moving on to a panel show called 'Citation Needed': and a game called 'Two of These People Are Lying'. All of which I would thoroughly reccomend, they're one of my go to things when I'm having a rough time. All 4 of them are excellent! Tom Scott (red top, blue jeans on the picture) has his own YouTube channel which does content aside from TechDif. If you're quite nerdy and like science, linguistics, computers, or any number of other things you may enjoy Tom's channel. He is probably best described as "The Moderator" of the group, much like a tired teacher he tries desperately to keep everyone on track with what they're meant to be doing, but usually it does not end well for him. Then we have Matt Gray (space top, holding an ice cream) who also has a channel away from TechDif stuff, he does techy electronic things and has a series called 'Will it Soft Serve?' where he puts all kinds of strange things through a soft serve machine. Matt brings a very specific energy to TechDif and I can't fully describe what that vibe is but I love it. Matt and Tom also share a YouTube channel where TOTPAL is posted and they had a series called 'The Park Bench'. Moving on to everybody's favourite Gary Brannan: Gary Brannan (SATIRE hoodie, glasses) and can I just say, what a fella he is! He's just excellent! He is the one that will argue and rip into Tom the most (not in a malicious way) and hilarity ensues. There are some episodes where he is absolutely on it, getting all the points and others where he very clearly has no idea and that's where some of his funniest quotes come from. Given how badly I was doing at the time I made this, his response to it on Twitter was so so lovely. I specifically remember one tweet where he said I'd made him happy and although it was probably a flippant comment, it just made feel alright for a bit. Yeah I might be feeling awful right now, but I've made someone else happy so that's a nice feeling. Then last but certainly not least, we have Chris Joel (buffalo check shirt, beard)! I would be lying if I said he isn’t my favourite... His sense of humor is the one I vibe with most, he can get rather dramatic in parts and can chat bollocks like a champion. He has absolutely no online presence away from TechDif and, like Rens from Temples, I fully believe he’s a cryptid and lives off in a tree somewhere.

The picture took me about 4 days to complete, well 4 nights because I did most of it between the hours of 12 a.m. and 7a.m. - I remember watching the sun come through my window each morning. It’s made up of lots of little pieces, all cut out and stuck on; even the sky and hills are made of separate pieces of paper. Nothing was actually drawn on the piece of paper it’s all stuck on, it’s not how I usually do things but if I messed up one little but I could just redraw it rather than ruining the whole thing. The most tedious parts to make were Chris’ shirt because I had to draw each square individually and then join the as well, and cutting out the ban-hammer in the bottom right was surprisingly hard. Every single detail of the picture is a reference to the podcast/shows, I still have the plan sketch and reference list knocking about somewhere. I listened to a lot of true crime videos while making it to the point that certain parts remind me of different cases: the brandy now reminds me of Peter Tobin, and the big spiral thing reminds me of Tim McLean (very harrowing case) - sorry that fact is a bit morbid but interesting nonetheless.

I did post this for a little bit back in July, but I received some rather awful messages so I took it down. Generally, Tom Scott/TechDif fans are lovely but there’s been a few that have taken a disliking to me for some reason so I’m hoping they don’t resurface again. I’m in a better head space now though, so even if they do I’m more equipped to deal with it this time.

Hozier

This was a quick sketch I did in April, I was getting bored with lockdown and decided to summon the bog man himself. There’s not really much more backstory than that, no poor mental health story, no fun twitter story - he’s just here. He’s vibing. I will say I’m particularly proud of his nose, I just think it’s one of the best noses I’ve ever drawn. His hand is okay, but I think that the hands on my Conchúr drawings are better. So there is the Hozi-Boi...

The Corpse Bry

I’ve talked about Bry on here before as well, I love him, he’s excellent, top lad. He is a living Tim Burton character, he’s 6′6, very skinny, and his legs are longer than my will to live. I was watching ‘The Corpse Bride’ a few weeks ago and suddenly had an idea and so ‘The Corpse Bry’ came to be. I gave him a little panda friend because the panda has always been his animal - he used to wear a panda beanie all the time and his album had a panda on the cover. Again, there’s not really a fun story behind this one, I guess it’s somewhat fun because it’s the first art I made after finishing my psychology exams in October so it was nice to actually have the time to draw.

James Bagshaw

Ginger talking about Temples for the third post in a row? it’s more likely than you think! I did this one last week, I’d had a bit of a wobbly day and had group therapy on Teams in the evening and I just couldn’t concentrate on what was going on and I ended up doodling Mr James E. Bagshaw, the glitter crying fraggle man himself. It’s a bare-bones drawing that I could definitely work into more but I’m happy with it as it is to be honest. I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit and add the individual bits of fringe to his jacket, just thinking about doing that makes me tired. Maybe I’ll get around to drawing the whole band at some point...

Alice in “Wonderland”

This one is from about 5(?) years ago, it’s not my typical style and was a “study” based on another artists work (basically i just had to copy this fellas work). I’ll be honest, this one has a sketchy backstory that I won’t go in to because it’s not exactly a nice one, and because of that I also won’t say who the artist is that it’s based on. Despite this, I’m still really proud of this one and I’m so sad that I never got this piece back after I got taken out the class. I’ve considered trying this style again, I’ve even joked about doing another Conchúr drawing in this style as a nod to my progression through GCSE art, eventually leading to Conchúr drawn in ink on music manuscript and stained with neon paint and dyes - it would be quite the project!

So this has been quite a lengthy post so apologies about that but life goes on. Similar to the vinyl post, I’ll probably add to this as and when I make more art. Even if no one is reading these posts, I’m enjoying making them so that’s the main thing. It’s just nice to document things and the feelings that go with them. 💕

~ Love Ginger xx

29/11/2020

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xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 5 years ago

Text

Wouldn’t Give You My Number - Gerard Way x Reader

Request: maybe a gerard way x reader where they meet at a concert and it gets really fluffy? if you don’t have time it’s ok

Word count: 1 264

A/N: Time I spent at uni today plus time I spent studying today = eleven hours. I’m done, my brain is mash. I want to sleep but it’s too early, and I still have to write memory cards for five lessons, and finish writing two scripts summarising the lectures. And I should actually study the memory cards at one point or the other. Got my exams on Monday and Thursday next week. I mean, it’s fun to study, but knowing there’s a deadline, and I will have to write an exam is stressful.

The deep sounds of the bass made the floor vibrate underneath your shoes, and every beat of the drums was like a punch in the stomach. You stood rather far away from the stage, a soft smile on your lips that did not match the aggressive rock music that flooded the venue. Watching the audience, you nodded along to the rhythm of the song you did not know.

Originally you had come for the opening band, but since you were always open for new music, and you had paid for the ticket, you might as well educate yourself a little on this other band. The venue was not big, maybe three hundred people when sold out. It was a basement, deep underground, with ancient looking, huge pillars supporting the vault’s ceiling. You loved this specific place especially for its great atmosphere; the contrast between the almost medieval seeming room equipped with modern light and sound systems always sent a shiver down your spine.

Scanning the room again, you found that most of the people had indeed tried to be as close to the stage as possible. Only a few people were on their way to or from the bar, and a handful of people, including you, were sparsely spread over the last meters furthest away from the stage. Looking at them, your eyes met those of a stranger, who shot you a lopsided smile. Black hair hung into his forehead, and over a dark band shirt he wore leather jacket.

He was pretty, you noticed, beautiful even. You smiled back, and turned to look at the stage again, but after a few seconds you felt a strange tingle at the side of your face, the same tingle you got when you felt someone was watching you. And indeed, when you looked around the room once more, you found the black haired stranger was still, or again, looking at you.

When your eyes met his again, his smile grew a little, and he tucked his hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans, before starting to move over.

“They’re pretty good,” he shouted over the music the moment he was close enough to you.

“Yeah,” you answered, “kind of a raw energy. Do you know them?”

He shook his head no.

“No, was here for the opening band.”

“Me too,” you laughed.

“Really? Do you know the guys?”

This time it was you who shook their head no.

“Not personally if that’s what you mean,” you explained, “been a huge fan of their music though for a long time.”

The stranger nodded enthusiastically.

“Me too! They have some of the best tracks to-“ he continued speaking but the music suddenly got louder, and drowned his voice out.

Furrowing your brows, you placed your hand at your ear, signaling him to speak up. Instead he leant in closer to you, his head right next to yours.

“I said, they have some of the best tracks to get lost in your own mind to,” he repeated, making you nod.

“I don’t know how many hours I spent just dreaming away to their music! And it’s still so fucking angry all the time,” you laughed, but this time the stranger just copied your movement, so you repeated yourself, but he just shook his head. The music was so loud that there was no way to have a conversation here. For a moment he looked around, as if he was considering something, before pointing to something behind you.

Turning, you realised he was pointing to the door that lead up the stairs to the court of the old building. You nodded, agreeing to his proposition of going somewhere more quiet, and lead the way up the stairs.

In the court it was freezing cold, the winter breeze being a welcome change to the stuffy air in the vault. Quickly you pulled your pullover, which had been tied around your waist, over your head, and turned around to the stranger. Only a few other people were standing out here, most of them to have a smoke.

“So, what did you say downstairs?” His voice sounded so different, now that he did not have to scream anymore.

“I don’t know how many hours I spent dreaming myself away from the world while listening to them,” you explained, your voice sounding strange in your own ears after the loud music, “and yet they still sound so fucking angry.”

The man laughed.

“They do, don’t they? What’s your favourite song of theirs?”

You continued talking to him, finding out his favourite album was the one you had first heard of them, that his name was Gerard, and that he loved music just as much as you did. For ages you were discussing best songs, which songs should be made into a medley, why the new album was very important concerning the current political climate, and many other things.

By the time you ran out of things to talk about, you realised that the music of the band that had played, had stopped, and instead old rock music was sounding in the venue downstairs. Agreeing that it was time to go downstairs, not only because it was late, but also because it was cold, you made your way back to the vaults, where a little party was going on for the guests that had liked to stay.

Gerard and you decided to both buy something from the merch table, and even got the chance to talk to the band, which you had come to see, for a couple of minutes. They recognized you from a few other shows, joking around with you a little.

On your way back up the stairs towards the exit, Gerard made fun of you, in a sweet way, and you felt like he was almost a little envious, but you were not sure if it was because they had known you but not him, or whether it was because for a while your focus had not been entirely on him. When you reached the exit, Gerard nervously started tucking on his sleeves, making you raise your eyebrows questioningly at him.

“You okay,” you asked, watching him fiddle around with the zipper of jacket.

“Yeah, I was just- I was just wondering if I could see you again sometime,” he confessed, his eyes not meeting yours.

You could not help the sly grin on your cheeks as you felt yourself blushing.

“Got a pen?”

Confused he looked at you, but pulled a black felt-tip pen out of his back pocket. Taking it from him, you grabbed his wrist, and pushed up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing a pale forearm.

“This,” scribbling down a few well known digits, “is my number. Give me call?”

Looking back up at him, you found Gerard was grinning and nodding happily.

“If you’re okay with that?”

“I wouldn’t give you my number if I weren’t,” you giggled, and handed the pen back to him.

“So… can I call you to ask you out for coffee some time?”

“You can even call me just like that, or you can ask me out for coffee just like that,” you shrugged, amused by the stupidly happy grin on his face. It was adorable.

“I think I’ll do that,” Gerard laughed.

“That would make me very happy,” you nodded.

You kept talking and flirting for a while longer, until the night really got too cold, and you said good bye, going your separate ways home. But not before Gerard had officially asked you out for a date first.

Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know):

General: @justawriterinprogress @robinruns @jayloverthe3rd @lookalivefrosty @butterfly-writes @angelevansfalls @rene-royale @500240 @starduststyx

MCR: @deadlovers

#gerard way x reader #gerard way fluff #gerard way fanfiction #gerard way imagine #my chemical romance #my chemical romance fanfiction #my chemical romance imagines #My Chem #fanfiction #fanfic #fluffy fanfiction #mcr fanfiction #mcr imagine

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qqueenofhades · 5 years ago

Note

Hi there. I've been scrolling through your "school stuff" tag but thought I'd ask directly - how did you find the transition to actually moving outside of the U.S. for your PhD? I'm looking at something similar and I'm wondering about your experience with the logistics (finding somewhere to live, visa, etc!). Thanks in advance, and congrats on being a doctor!

Oh lord. Why would you do that to yourself? I feel like that tag is mostly just intense kvetching, bogglingly obscure nitpicking complaints, and existential despair, and/or yelling at various institutions and/or people who could not do their god damn jobs. If you have read that and still actually want my advice, I salute you. I’m presuming you’re asking in regard to the UK, since it’s the only experience I can speak on, so hopefully that’s applicable?

In my case, I studied in the UK for a year as an undergraduate, at Oxford, so I was already familiar with the process (at least somewhat) when it came time to do it again for the PhD. Upfront, we must acknowledge the ugly deformed rabid elephant in the room that is Brexit, and the idiotic reform of UK immigration policy currently ongoing. Long story short, they seem to think they can function without low-skilled migration, that the domestic UK workforce will just happily lark off to do the jobs that working-class EU migrants have been doing, that this won’t totally bomb-crater the NHS, that they can run a country by basically only allowing in PhDs in STEM making over £30,000 a year, etc… so yes, this is a complete joke of an immigration policy and it’s what happens when you elect floppy haired xenophobic douchewads and their nightmare party as prime minister! ANYWAY, they’re introducing a points-based system from 2021, which may not affect you for an application under Tier 4, but UK immigration policy is going to have a lot of very stupid reforms and you’ll want to keep on top of those. If you have an offer in hand from a UK university, it is made somewhat easier, but you’ll still need to budget for processing costs, an NHS subsidy paid in for every year you will be there (something like $300/year), and a trip to a UK visa office to have your fingerprints and biometric information taken. If you don’t live near one, that will be travel expenses and so forth. You then have a temporary visa issued for first entry into the country, and a Biometric Residence Permit which you pick up at your university.

That, at least, was the process the last time I applied for a student visa, and it may all have changed by the time you do it. As noted, there are a lot of upfront visa costs, so you’ll want to be aware of those. You need a number of supporting documents, including offer of study, proof of income or ability to financially support yourself (since most Tier 4 visas either don’t let you work or only work a limited number of hours), proof of English proficiency (as a native English speaker/person from an English-speaking country, you won’t need this), and so on. You can’t start the process before you have the offer, but you’ll want to start it as soon as possible afterward, because it can take several months, and obviously needs to be done before you can travel. You will also want to open a UK bank account as soon as you arrive, which can be done once you have your residential address and a certificate from the student services office at your university verifying that you are in fact a student there. It’s pretty difficult to pay out of non-UK accounts, at least for monthly/recurring transactions, and there are international fees. You will also want a UK phone. I still have my UK phone/phone number despite my current hiatus in America, since most carriers offer free or low-cost roaming in Europe (though subject to change with EU trade negotiations), which is nice. I pay only a little extra to have Global Roaming in North America, so I can still use my phone as if I’m in the UK. If you’re planning to be traveling, this is a nice perk to have.

As far as finding programs goes, I’m sure I don’t need to give you advice on what you’re interested in and where you’re looking. Obviously, universities in the UK are grouped as “Oxford and Cambridge” and “everyone else,” though there are also rankings within those. I have been at both of these; Oxford as an undergrad, and then I did my PhD at a large public university in the North that ranks within the top 10 in the UK. The North will be much lower, living-cost wise (actually, if you can swing it, just… don’t do it in London, the cost of living in London is out of control. Of course, if the program you really have your heart set on is in London, then go for it, but just be aware of what you’re getting into). It’s also a rule of thumb that you don’t go anywhere for a PhD unless they’re paying you. Don’t self-fund a PhD, it’s just too expensive, and any decent university will give you some kind of financial stipend. I had a scholarship that covered three years of full tuition at international rate, which was good, though I had to take out some living-cost loans. So if you’re trying to decide between two programs that have both accepted you, a situation I was also lucky enough to be in, it sounds crass, but: take the money. One university had already offered me the tuition/scholarship, while the other had accepted me but wasn’t sure about funding. So I took the one that paid the scholarship. You need every penny you can get. You will be comically, absurdly, unbelievably broke as a graduate student. I was looking back on it like “wow I really lived for four years on BUTTFUCK NOTHING.” It is not for the faint of heart; you will have financial stress along with academic pressure, and while I was lucky enough to have generous friends and family contributing to my living costs, I still barely scraped through. It is something you should be aware of.

I don’t know if you’ve studied in the UK system before (I’m assuming not), but the structure for a PhD is much less determined than in the American system. It will also vary from university to university, so it’s worth establishing contact with a potential faculty supervisor to ask questions and refine your project proposal. I made contact with my eventual supervisor at my PhD university before I actually applied there; I gave him my (much too broad and pretty unrefined) project proposal and what I was interested in, and he helped me tailor it into something that could be done in a feasible time frame and which would make use of his expertise and contribute to the field. Whatever you’re thinking about pitching as a thesis topic, you probably need to make it more specific. I don’t know what field you’re in; I’m a humanities/history person, obviously, so the rule always seems to be WRITE MORE, INFIDEL. But the point is, the UK system has much less structured time, and basically relies on you to have the self-motivation to go out and conduct the research and write it up, and if you’re someone more used to rigid requirements and classes and so forth, you might find it a little hands-off. If you’re like me and can just be set loose in your field of interest and do your own thing, you’ll like it. I feel like anyone who is serious enough about their subject to want to do a PhD has to be primarily self-motivating, but some people function better with clear guidelines, and those are not always forthcoming. I can’t count the number of times I wished my supervisors would just TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK TO DO, but they usually highlighted something and had me work to figure out how exactly to fix it. They weren’t negligent or uncaring or unsupportive, and the project became much better as a result, but yes, it’s on you to do, and it can again be frustrating.

As far as living, I didn’t try to rent a flat from afar, sight unseen, in my first year. I just registered for postgraduate campus housing, and lived with four predictably horribly messy roommates (why???!) before I managed to escape and rent a private flat for the next three years. You will need a guarantor with a UK address (i.e. not your parents in America) to sign on the lease agreement, especially if you fall below a certain income threshold, and go through the usual background checking and approval. If you want to have the place to yourself, it will be, as noted, much cheaper to find something you can afford in the North and not-London in general, though southern England and the London commuter belt will all be expensive. If you’re okay living with roommates, or you make friends during your program, it might work to room together and share costs, but I am a pathological introvert and don’t like people, so I lived by myself.

Anyway. Right now, I am in the second round of applications for a Big Deal UK postdoctoral award, which would be for three years starting this fall if I got it, at another high-ranking large public university in the south of England. (So yes, everything that I just said about how much it costs to live in London/London suburbs is me playing myself). I would be applying for a Tier 2 visa (i.e. the permanent/settlement track/full-time work visa) if I got this, which would be another barrel of laughs and different requirements from a Tier 4. That is definitely unhatched chickens which we can’t count yet, as this is a highly competitive/prestigious award and there is absolutely no guarantee that I would get it, but it would mean that I would go through the international moving/visa application process for a third time, so I would once again become too unfortunately familiar with whatever bullshittery is happening now. Le sigh.

I don’t know if any of that is helpful; hopefully so. Let me know if you have more questions, and good luck.

#school stuff #anonymous #ask

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dyslexicsquirrel · 5 years ago

Link

Title: Anything

Square filled: Prostitute

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alpha/Omega, Omega Verse, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Prostitute Dean Winchester, Virgin Castiel (Supernatural), Anal Sex, Knotting

Word count: 2235

Created for @spnkinkbingo

What was he doing here? This was a horrible idea. Possibly the worst idea he had ever had and he once helped his older brothers sneak Scotch into Almac’s under the eagle eye of Lady Jersey, the most frightening omega the peerage had ever known.

“Oy, you gettin’ out or what?”

The voice of the hackney driver had him jumping, retrieving his hat and cane from the seat next to him and stepping out into the street. The carriage sped off with a crack of the reigns and he looked up at the brick facade of the building in front of him. Candle light seeped from around the edges of curtains drawn tight to hide the goings on inside.

God Almighty, he already felt his cock getting hard in his beeches and was thankful for the drape of his greatcoat to hide his embarrassing state. He was tempted to walk away, but another part of him, devious and whispering temptation, urged him inside. “You’ll find everything you’ve ever been curious about,” it whispered, echoing his older brother’s words that sent him on this errand in the first place.

“Don’t be a prude,” Gabriel had chastised. “Everyone does it. It’s like a right of passage. Our dear old father is the one who took me to my first whore house,” he added with a lascivious grin, lounging across the settee, popping grapes into his mouth as he spoke. “Don’t tell me you aren’t curious.”

And he was, which was what made it so shameful. It was true that most peers, the alphas at any rate, were encouraged to sow their wild oats before marriage, but Lord Castiel James Shurley had always been odd. He thought for himself, flouted convention, and had been, until recently, convinced he would go to his marriage bed a virgin, same as whichever omega his parents deemed suitable for him.

Ever since his first rut hit last year (a late bloomer, everyone had said, seeing as he had been all of six and twenty), he could think of little else. Not even his plants could keep his interest anymore and his fellows at the Horticultural Society were starting to worry. He spent more time locked away in his room than his greenhouse.

The front door opened suddenly, a thin omega in a red dress that was barely proper bathed in the light which spilled into the street, red curls falling from the pile atop her head to brush her shoulders. She smirked at him. “Why don’t you come in, love? We don’t bite.”

She chuckled at her own joke, and Castiel felt a blush creep up his cheeks. Well, he was caught now. It was either look a fool for loitering outside only to run away with his tail between his legs (And why did it even matter, he asked himself. He wasn’t likely to run into this woman in the street.) or stop being a coward and take what he wanted, what he had been fantasizing about for months—a warm, tight hole squeezing around his prick, an omega mewling beneath him.

It as base and common, but, oh, how he wanted it.

He walked up the steps and through the door.

The inside of Madam Ellen’s was as gauche and ostentatious as Castiel feared it would be: velvet, gold leaf, filigree, sconces shaped like male members, frescos of men and women, alphas and omegas, in flagrante on the walls for the foyer. There were also… noises. Ones he hadn’t been able to hear outside, but once past the doors they rang in his ears, moans, grunting, growls echoed by softer purrs. Things Castiel would have said were reserved for marriage beds, but were making him warm beneath his clothes, his cravat feeling too tight.

“Charlie, take the gentleman’s coat, why don’t you? I thought I taught you better manners than that.”

The woman who spoke descended the staircase with a regal air, dressed fine enough for any Ton ballroom in blue satin adorned in peacock feathers. She was older, perhaps his mother’s age, handsome, and an omega. Obviously the proprietress, by the way the redhead who let him in jumped to follow her order, which surprised him. He wouldn’t have thought an omega would run a house of ill repute such as this, but perhaps it made sense. Who else would an omega trust to keep them safe but one of their own?

He relinquished his greatcoat, along with his gloves, hat and cane, fingers fidgeting with the buttons he of his waistcoat. Madame Ellen reaches the bottom step and held out her hand with a smile that was more than a touch predatory. Still, Castiel raised her hand to his lips because he was a gentleman.

“No need to be frightened, dear boy,” she said, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow and leading him father into the house.

“I’m not,” he replied automatically and she smiled again as they passed through a doorway into a sitting room filled with numerous couches. Artfully displayed on a number of them, omegas posed for inspection. Castiel stopped in his tracks, eyes widening, arrested by half clothed limbs.

One omega in particular, seated by the fireplace, golden skin gilded by the fire, stole his breath. He was… stunning. Tall and leanly muscled, with green eyes and light brown hair, he wore nothing but a silk dressing gown from what Castiel could discern. The material split over one of his thighs, leaving his legs bare, long and made smooth and hairless by a process he couldn’t even begin to guess at. It fell off one shoulder, to behalf of his chest visible along with a single, pert nipple. A wine glass filled with ruby colored liquid dangled negligently from his fingertips, eyes trained on the flames before him.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Hmm, good choice,” Madame Ellen murmured, too close to his ear, her scent overpowering, but he didn’t pull away because what if he made her angry? The last thing he wanted now that he’d seen this omega was to be tossed out on his ear. She stepped away, one hand around his arm, the other beckoning the omega. Her lips curled in a sly grin. “Dean, dear. Come. Someone has requested your company.”

Castiel had no earthly idea what the room he was led to looked like because once the door shut behind them, Dean shed the robe he wore, tossing it over a chaise lounge pushed against the wall across from the bed, which he only glanced at when Dean laid back against the bedding. Propped on his elbows, everything wasI’m display. He looked like sin incarnate, half lidded eyes and a smile curving his plush lips. The blue silk sheets and velvet bed hangings were sumptuous and the color set off the omega’s skin in a way that made Castiel think they had been chosen specifically for that purpose.

“So,” Dean said, the deep cadence of his voice shocking Castiel, as well as the fact that he was American. He found himself wondering how this man had come to be here. “How would you like me?”

“I don’t know,” he stuttered, fidgeting with one of his cufflinks.

“Don’t be shy.” His voice lowered and he sat forward as though he were sharing a secret, the lean muscles of his abdomen flexing, candle light catching on all the dips and curves of his body. Smile turning coy, he informed Castiel, “I’ve tried everything. Nothing you ask for will shock me.”

“I don’t know what to ask for because I haven’t done anything. Shocking or otherwise.” He hadn’t meant to admit that, but the words tumbled from his lips and it was too late now to take them back.

Dean sat back, stunned, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. “No shit?” The omega’s green eyes ran slowly up and down his body, making Castiel blush. “Been a while since I was with a virgin. Probably since I was one myself,” he added with a wry twist of his lips. Then he stood, walked toward Castiel, his movements I’m yes with sensual grace, and began tugging on the knot of Castiel’s cravat. “Well, that just means I get to ruin you for everyone else.”

Cas believed Dean could do it, too, as he slowly, efficiently, stripped Castiel of all his layers. He seemed pleased with what he saw, licking his lips when he uncovered Castiel’s cock, pupils widening. Dean ducked his head to run his lips along Castiel’s chin.

“I should have asked before, but what’s your name?”

“Cas,” he said even though only his family ever called him that.

Dean hummed, tongue licking up his neck. “I’m going to take care of you, alpha.”

Lord above, that went straight to his cock. He had been imagining making an omega scream his name by the end of the night, foolish seeing as he had no prior experience to call upon, but he thought it was going to be the other way around.

Silk gripped between his fingers, Castiel groaned, stars filling his vision. He was on his back on the bed while Dean rode him as skillfully as a jockey at the Ascot. It was better than he had ever dreamed. The omega’s channel was hot and wet, squeezing him so tightly it bordered in pain. The scent of his sweat and the slick running down his thighs filled the room, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head when Dean clenched impossibly tighter.

Dean caressed Castiel’s chest, thumbs plucking at his nipples, then leaned down to kiss him, nipping at bottom lip. “Are you going to knot me, alpha? I can feel it, Cas. It’s so big.”

“Oh, God,” were the only words he could get past his lips. He untangled his fingers from the sheets and curled them around the omega’s hips.

His breath bathed Castiel’s ear with his next words, so softly spoken, but they were like ice water through his veins, reminding him of what this was. “It’s extra.”

“Anything,” he choked out, groaning, hips snapping up, chasing his release. He would give Dean anything, anything he wanted. He didn’t think he could live without this, without him.

Dean straightened, breath catching, and held on while Castiel thrust into him. His nails dug into Castiel’s skin. He thought Dean might have drawn blood but he didn’t care enough to look or to tell Dean to stop.

He was transfixed by the sight of Dean succumbing to pleasure. Eyes closed, head tipped back, he stroked himself with one hand, panting through parted lips. He was perfection.

Castiel’s knot swelled even more, making it harder to push inside. The noises their bodies made was a symphony Cas had never heard before: skin against skin, the squelch of slick being forced out of the omega’s channel. Frustrated when his knot pulled free of Dean’s sheath, the omega’s body resisting its entrance, he dug his fingers into Dean’s hips and tugged him down when he drove up. Dean shouted, spend painting Castiel’s chest, milking his knot.

Dean collapsed against his chest, hips rolling to pull the rest of his release from him, not that he thought he would stop anytime soon regardless.

“How was that?”

Dean’s question had Castiel barking a laugh. He ran his hands up and down the omega’s back, over the swell of his generous backside. “I want you to be my courtesan.”

Dean stilled. Slowly, his head lifted from Castiel’s shoulder. His eyes were wide with disbelief. “You can’t be serious. We’ve only just met.”

“I’ve always known what I wanted,” he told Dean, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. He confessed, “Truthfully, I don’t think I could stand the thought of anyone else touching you.”

“I did say I would ruin you for anyone else.” Dean spoke the words softly, voice filled with melancholy.

Castiel traced Dean’s cheek. “I will have to marry. One day. And were it a more perfect world…” He trailed off, not willing to say the words aloud. They would only serve to make them both sad. “I have more money than I could spend in two lifetimes. Let me spend it on you. You would have the freedom to do what you wanted when we aren’t together, run your own household, revive a monthly stipend.”

Dean studied him, fingers tracing idle patterns in the skin of his chest. “What happens when you decide you don’t want me anymore?”

The question was pragmatic for someone in Dean’s position, but it broke Cas’s heart. Conscious of his knot which had yet to abate, he sat up carefully so as not to jostle Dean too much and hurt him, and wrapped the omega in his arms. He couldn’t see that happening, but all he said was, “Everything will be yours to keep. I put the house in your name. You’ll have your own accounts.”

Dean looked away, biting his lip as he contemplated Castiel’s offer. “You are the best lay I’ve had in years,” he mused and tossed Castiel a cheeky smirk.

The alpha growled, rolling them over, trapping Dean beneath him. Dean’s laugh morphed into a moan when Castiel started circling his hips. “Is that a yes?”

Dean didn’t answer with words. He pulled Cas into a kiss, wrapping around him like he would never let him go.

#spnkinkbingo #supernatural #fanfiction #destiel #historical #prostitute!Dean #Lord!Castiel #omegaverse #omega!dean #alpha!castiel

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lunawings · 5 years ago

Text

King of Prism Rose Party 2019 Orchestra Concert (10/13/2019)

So as usual I like to talk about the entire experience of the event to keep a record/help guide people who want to do stuff like this in the future, so if you only want to read about the parts of the show with the voice actors please skip to the end.

This was intended to be a 2-day event with a concert by the stage actors on the 12th and an orchestra concert on the 13th, but typhoon Hagibis cancelled the live show for the 12th (although it was streamed online) and delayed the 13th.

I woke up on the morning of the 13th waaaay too early, partially from excitement and partially from adrenaline from the typhoon probably....

Also it was a beautiful frikkin day. I don’t know the science of it, but the day after any typhoon is always sunny and just gorgeous.

If it weren’t for the elderly folk cleaning up the stray leaves and branches from the street you’d have never known what happened the previous night.

The original plan for the merch was that they would let us line up by 7, hand out tickets by 8, and start selling by 10 so I was planning to get there by at least 6 am originally. But, after the typhoon they announced merch sales would be from 12. Still, I ended up getting there at 8 since it was just so nice outside, I felt like I could use a walk, and because there was no other info I couldn’t help worrying about how things would really go down. The trains weren’t running that morning (or at least JR wasn’t) because they had to ensure the safety of the tracks or whatnot, so the only other people around were also fans that had decided to stay close to the venue. We loitered around awkwardly, every so often asking the staff what was going on only to be told that sales would start from 12 and still no other info.

But it was dangerous to stray too far away because we all knew there would be that “OK go” moment where we could all get in line, and where you decided to randomly loiter around would determine your position in line. That “OK go” moment finally came at around 11:15, and I ended up in the middle of an incredibly short line of only about 40 people or so. Is this really all there is? We wondered until about 11:30 when the line suddenly quadrupled and we realized ah, I guess the first train got in ahah.

Waiting in the line was really funny because this event took place during the Rugby World Cup, so there were a lot of bewildered middle-aged white people in rugby shirts just walking by and getting caught up in clouds of King of Prism fangirls. They would always stop and look at us like ?? then casually try and keep walking but then stop again for longer and look at us like what. Haha. Baby boomers were peeking in the windows to see what the heck all these Japanese girls (and one white girl) were lining up for and walking away more confused.

We thought they would just open sales at 12 like they said and go in order, but actually they handed out tickets anyway so the people who came by train had no disadvantage. (Still, even though it was random I got number 42 which was incredible.) The tickets ended up being kind of a joke though! Usually they call in large groups and you check online to see when your number would be coming up. But instead the guy was like.

“Okay, ready? Number 1... 2.... 3...!” Hahaha like WHAT! There was an awkward moment where someone had to admit to being number 1 in front of everyone or we couldn’t go in. (People looking around like OK WHAT BITCH PULLED NUMBER 1...) So I got into merch in roughly the amount of time it takes to slowly count to 42. They had so many registers and so much merch (and less people than usual) so everyone got in and out in like 30 minutes and bought everything they wanted. Incredible.

I think the only thing that sold out early-ish was the Torachi and Dorachi plushies and they weren’t even event exclusive.

When the doors opened for the event, people who had the “special” two-day tickets were given the special bonuses that came with them for both days of the event.

I put “special” in quotations because literally everyone there seemed to have the two-day tickets because there were zero people in the other line ahah. But I also guess maybe people with the two-day tickets were more likely to come on Friday like I did and avoided trouble with the trains? I dunno. Anyway.

The bonus for the orchestra concert was a coaster and some rose tea. The bonus for the stage show was a file with some cards in side (I guess they are supposed to be Edel Rose IDs?) one which reveals the stage actors when you turn it a certain way.

Holding the bonus in my hands which I would have received at the live stage show was the moment it finally hit me what could have been if only the show hadn’t been cancelled... ahhh..... hdldksjf.................

So, the concert.

It started up with just the orchestra, playing the background music from the movies/anime. Something I never really thought about before was about how the music from the first two movies is kind of non-specific. Like, although I definitely recognized all of it, I had trouble remembering exactly which scene(s) it was from. Meanwhile, although I am less familiar with the background music from SSS since the CD only just came out, there are a lot of songs which are specifically associated with certain characters and certain scenes. Like the music which plays during Leo’s flashback to his childhood, or the music that plays when Minato talks to his parents and decides to go back to Tokyo.

I used to go to orchestra/wind ensemble concerts all the time as a music student, but somewhere along the way I stopped. (WHY DID I STOP) Still, I haven’t been to many professional orchestra concerts, so I’m not used to things sounding so.... how should I say.... perfect ahah. There were a few times I had to stop and remind myself that this was actually live and not a recording.

There were a few times when I didn’t feel that need though. Like during the performance of the music which plays during the Schwarz Rose bath scene in SSS episode 1. That violin.... oh..... my...... lord...........................

As a flutist I have always been eternally confused at how string instruments work. Well I mean, I have held a guitar in my hands and been taught how to make chords so like I know... but still I just don’t know how it is possible to do... THAT......

The Schwarz Rose music in general really shook me. I noticed for the first time how few instruments they use compared with the background music for Edel Rose, and yet that makes the mood so much heavier. In addition to the Schwarz Rose stuff, the music they played which really gave me that full body chills experience included the piece from the scene where Hiro becomes Prism King, and all the Rinne/Shine stuff... that was..... oh wow...... I actually gave myself goosebumps again thinking about it.......... (I can kinda understand why they didn’t do a live viewing for this. It probably wouldn’t have been the same.)

So we were allowed to cheer it, but quietly with only one light in each hand. As you can imagine, the atmosphere was quite different with this being an orchestra concert and all. I tried to change colors as little as possible since the clicking just seemed SO LOUD. So I was just gonna keep red the whole time, but then I remembered the DVD so I tried to match everyone to make it look pretty for that.

But I realized after they will probably show the evening performance on the DVD anyhow because the theater was probably fuller then. Since the trains were down for most of the morning, there were a good amount of empty seats. It was about 85% full when it was supposed to be sold out originally. (But they did offer refunds for people who couldn’t make it.)

So about the voice actors.

Junta Terashima (Shin), Shouta Aoi (Louis), Tasuku Hatanaka (Taiga), Taku Yashiro (Kakeru), Masashi Igarashi (Minato), and Takuma Nagatsuka (Leo) were scheduled to attend. Originally it was just gonna be Shouta and Junta and the others were kinda tacked on later, so they had less to do (they only got to sing once) but of course it was wonderful to have them.

They first came out on stage while the orchestra was playing but of course we couldn’t cheer or react to them because the orchestra was playing so it was this like silent screaming until we could finally cheer for them hahah.

They were all wearing suits themed to their character colors except for Shouta Aoi who was wearing this elaborate suit/wedding dress combo with a huge train that kept getting stepped on and caught onto things several times during the show hahah ha....

(+one more special guest I’ll talk about later)

When they introduced themselves and we got to Masashi Igarashi, he made such a huge, overblown reaction to the crowd and was like FINALLY! I CAN HEAR YOU!

(This is because he’s the only one of the voice actors to be in the stage show cast as well, so yesterday he’d performed to an empty concert hall.)

I laughed..... but then felt this intense pang of inconsolable sadness. I hoped the stage actors were all backstage and would come out at the end just as a surprise so we could cheer for them. I WANTED TO CHEER FOR THEM THEY DESERVED IT SO MUCH. WHY.

But they never did.....

Huaaahhh........................

Well.

When it was Taku Yashiro’s turn he called out “WANBANKOOOO” to both the girls and guys like Kakeru would do. When it was time for the guys to repeat it I was surprised the response was a lot heartier than I was expecting! Despite being about zero men in the merch line, there were more than I realized at the show. How nice! It always makes me really happy when they call out to girls at Love Live events, so I was really happy for them.

In the middle they all did a talk session where they played and discussed scenes from the SSS anime where the music was significant.

And it was weird because.... while they were playing the scenes we all automatically cheered them like we would do in the theater. Except several of the voice actors were RIGHT THERE watching us react to their work. Come to think of it, it may have been a little strange for them to see us cheering for their work as if they weren’t there. It was almost like all walked in on each other naked for a second. I have been trying to think of the best way to describe it and that was all I could come up with ahaha....

When they showed Brilliant Oath I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to sing or not? I think they really wanted us to sing but people were afraid to. So I was mouthing the words really exaggeratedly and probably looked like such a weirdo haha.... I’m not going to jump to the conclusion that Junta Terashima was actually looking at me during this part, but I was singing to him and he was kinda looking over in my direction ///// The scene ended right before “Chikai no ring....” so there was this little “Chi--” from the audience when we didn’t know the scene was going to end and they all laughed at that.

While the orchestra was tuning up they joked about tuning up their characters. Takuma Nagatsuka was like “Saionji Leo Leo Leo”. Junta Terashima bragged about not having to tune, but they were all like nah you should really tune your Shin so he made a bunch of Shin yells in various pitches ahaha.

In the second half of the performance just Junta Terashima and Shouta Aoi came out and performed their songs. Shouta was up first, so when Junta left the stage he wished him luck as Shin.

Shouta got all flustered about it, and turned to the audience like “I wasn’t ready for that.”

AhhHHhwwrrgh I really want to see that again. But like I said I’m afraid the DVD will be ust the evening performance. (This and many interviews have shown he’s in love with Shin the character and it’s adorable.)

It was right at this moment, when Shouta Aoi was on the stage by himself, that it suddenly hit me all at once that this was my first time seeing him live. (Since he wasn’t at MRS and I wasn’t able to make the lottery for the 2018 Rose Party or the first SSS theater greeting. Since I have seen the other boys multiple times, and I have seen him at live viewings, I guess somehow it kind of slipped my mind.)

When he announced the first song (”Moonshine”) there was like, an audible gasp from the audience. Like actual SHOCK at the idea that he was ACTUALLY going to sing for us... (at an event where we already knew he was going to sing for us).... THE VERY IDEA.....

And when he announced his second song, I know Shangri La, same thing.

It’s so hard to describe what it’s like to be in his presence. He’s just so different from the other boys. It’s a whole other level. He’s just... I can’t.... I can’t even believe he exists. I felt this same sense of awe even at the live viewing for the 2018 Rose Party but now he was actually HERE only 24 rows away from me!? It did not seem like this could be possible. How could this be allowed. All I could think about the entire time he was singing was just: Angels are real and one of them is named Shouta Aoi.

And what’s even more amazing is he doesn’t even seem to fully realize??? Like how all these girls are just so in complete awe and entranced by him??? He has no ego at all!?! When he finished his songs he was just like “Ohhh I was so nervous!” after singing with a flawless voice from heaven. NNghghghg.

So after that, Junta Terashima came out to do Platonic Sword. As you may have noticed in the photo above, there was a special guest: Mitsuki Saiga (Shine)

She was supposed to be a surprise, but I knew since I saw her name in the pamphlet. (And I’m glad I did, because it gave me a couple hours to emotionally prepare.) So I was just waiting. Then suddenly the light came on and there she was.

So this was basically the first time I (or anyone?) got to hear Shine sing solo. I know Shine sings on the soundtrack version of Platonic Sword, but he sings together with Shin so it’s hard to separate his voice. Shine has.... a beautiful, deep voice. I’d.... I’d like to hear more of him. (But now I hear a bit of Hibiki from PriPara in it, which is another complex I have ahah.)

Seeing Platonic Sword Live was something I really needed. I’d been both dreading and looking forward to for a long time. That song/scene has always terrified me. But am I afraid of these two people?

Of course not.

The dissonance created by seeing Shin(e) on the screen with Junta voicing it below was incredible. As I hoped it would, it made me feel ready to deal with something I have been avoiding dealing with for a while: And that is that even though Shine made him do it, Platonic Sword is still a part of Shin and I need to accept that. After the concert I went back and listened to the full version from the soundtrack for the very first time. It still creeped me out but, I’m getting there...

So, I have seen Mitsuki Saiga before, at the Pretty Live, but it was a lot different seeing her so much closer vs. in the giant Makuhari Messe. Also she definitely seemed a bit more comfortable wearing a blazer instead of Hibiki cosplay ahah.

Her speaking voice is so naturally deep. Like, noticeably deeper than Junta Terashima and Shouta Aoi. When she left the stage after the three had a talk session, Junta and Shouta agreed on how much cooler she is than them hahahah.....

But the best part was how she said that when she voiced Shine, apparently no one told her what kind of a character he was because he was still secret or whatever. They were like “Just do it” and she was like “.....what!?” Then later when people told her how much Shine scared them she was like “Really!?” HAHAHAH.

Before this session ended they did a Shin/Louis duet of Silent Promise. So for people saying the photos looked like a wedding.... basically it was.

After all that they made the big announcement of the King of Prism era Prism Show Best 10. Masashi Igarashi made an increasingly frantic bid for us to vote for Minato which really hit me and made me actually give him my vote when I got home. If you bought the soundtrack CD and got the serial code I’d encourage you to also PLEASE PLEASE vote for Minato as well. He really needs a break.

Also Taku Yashiro did promise natural gas if you vote for Kakeru, so there is that too. But.

At the end of the concert when they were saying their goodbyes, I was holding up my big Shin fan and neso plush while Junta Terashima was talking. I don’t think he saw me though, because I was kinda too far back to be noticed easily and he was concentrating on talking. I think Tasuku Hatanaka might have though, which would be really funny if true. Because he looked in my direction and kinda made a face like “heh”. It made me want to bring some Taiga stuff for next time. I re-remembered the best way to get their attention is when they are not talking, because they will be kinda aimlessly scanning the crowd and if you do something (tasteful) to attract their attention during that time (like holding something up) it might actually work.

The last thing they did was an orchestra backed version of Dramatic Love and it was..... the near definitive version, the most beautiful Dramatic Love I have ever heard and it changed the song for me forever........... I.... I feel bad because it wasn’t all of them but. BUT! They gave Yukinojo’s lines to Louis and it just... it just sounded so good. Since Yukinojo usually sings before or after Shin (since SePTENTRION sings in order a lot since they are like that) I kinda want to hear Yukinojo replaced by Louis in more SePTENTRION songs. I mean I like Yukinojo’s voice fine but... BUT!!! For Yu’s lines they split them among the other characters. There was one point where Takuma Nagatsuka had to sing two lines in a row and he seemed to maybe have a little trouble stringing them together because he wasn’t used to it. (Like *finishes phrase* *split second of oh crap I have to sing again* *next phrase* eheh I love him.)

Music Ready Sparking was great and the next concert is going to be great too. But there was something really special about this one to me. I think I probably enjoyed the orchestra-only parts a bit more than your average attendee because of my music background, but that combined the smaller venue really made it magical. I really, really hope they do more of these.

#king of prism #kinpri #rose party #rose party 2019 #prism orchestra #junta terashima #shouta aoi

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edogawatranslations · 5 years ago

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Danganronpa Kirigiri (3) - Chapter 3, Part 2

Table of Contents | Previous: Chapter 3, Part 1

“...E-Excuse me?”

“Miracles don’t occur without magic.”

“S-Stop joking around.”

“Come on, just a peck on the cheek is fine.”

“A-A peck on the cheek? That’s enough for you?”

Kyoko shot a look at me. “You’re willing to go along with that?”

“N-No way!”

“How disappointing,” Lico sighed. “Then I guess I’ll take my leave.”

“W-Wait!” I shouted as he began to stand up. “Fine, fine. Sit down.”

“Yui, are you sure about this?” Kyoko asked.

“What choice do I have? Besides, a kiss on the cheek is a normal greeting in some countries.”

“Then please, look more like you’re going to enjoy it,” Lico said, looking up at me.

“Can I say something first? A magic kiss, you know, is typically between a prince and a princess... What I’m about to do is just...”

“I know, I know. I wasn’t serious.” He raised up both of his hands in playful surrender. “I don’t need any magic. I was planning on being your ally from the very start.”

“You little...” I resisted the urge to punch the boy in the face. It wouldn’t be good to lose my cool.

“First, to respond to your question about whether or not I am aware of the contents of the Duel Noir, the answer is no. I know nothing about its contents, nor the solution. Think about it for a second. Would Ryuuzouji really divulge his secrets to me, someone he suspected of being Rei Mikagami?”

“You should’ve said so in the first place.”

“I might as well tell you, but I didn’t sneak into Ryuuzouji’s headquarters to pursue the world’s greatest mysteries. In fact, I’m investigating the Crime Victims’ Salvation Committee.”

“Why did you hide that from us?”

Frustration burned inside me.

“I was anticipating that you’d figure it out yourself. But that’s beside the point. Over the past year, I noticed a surge in the number of people approaching me. All of them were detectives sent by the Committee. I found out Mikado Shinsen has been trying to invite me to join his organization, and if I refused, I’d be met with death.”

Naturally, the Committee wished to obtain Rei Mikagami’s power; it made the most sense to scout high-ranking individuals when seeking additional strength.

“And so, I snuck into Ryuuzouji’s castle and have been tracking the Committee’s movements over these past few months. To tell you the truth, I fully intended on joining the Committee if they intrigued me enough.”

“Don’t you have any honor?”

“I don’t follow any guidelines as a detective,” he said with an impish smile.

Well, at least he admits it.

“But the Committee is devoted solely to creating mysteries. I love a good mystery myself, but designing exam questions isn’t exactly my cup of tea. That’s why my interest in the Committee faded. I would much prefer to be summoned to solve a Duel Noir challenge, but that’s hopeless with my rank...”

The greater the cost of a Duel Noir, the higher the rank of the summoned detective. An exorbitant cost would be necessary for a triple-zero class detective to be summoned, but from a psychological standpoint, I couldn’t imagine anyone having the mental toughness to willingly put themselves in such a situation.

“I’ll get to the point—I want to help you with the Duel Noir. I want to solve mysteries. Please, allow me to join you.”

“Geez, you could’ve saved us so much time if you told us all of this earlier!” I ruffled my hair in frustration. “I don’t know if this is just who you are or if something’s messed up with your brain...”

“Your way of thinking is quite simple.”

I punched him squarely in the face for his blunt remarks—in my imagination, at least. Somehow, I managed to muster the willpower necessary to restrain myself.

“But thanks, we’ll gladly accept your help. We’d be in a pickle otherwise,” I replied.

I offered my hand out for a handshake, but Lico just sat there smiling, not reciprocating.

“...What?” I asked.

“Are you satisfied with trusting me so easily?”

“You still got a problem?”

“Kyoko doesn’t appear to trust me the same way you do.”

Now it’s Kyoko, huh...

She was staring—glaring at Lico.

“Kyoko, what’s wrong?” I asked. “You don’t trust him?”

“Mikado Shinsen...” she muttered. “That man can disguise as anyone.”

Her comment took me aback. Mikado Shinsen—the Variationist, a master of illusion and disguise.

“I see, so you suspect me to be Mikado Shinsen?” Lico asked.

“That’s not possible,” I interjected swiftly. “Just look at him. He’s way smaller than Shinsen; he’s even smaller than you! The Shinsen we met at Norman’s Hotel was taller than me. No matter how talented a masquerader he is, he can’t physically shrink his body down to that size.”

“But he can make himself appear larger,” she remarked.

“Well, yeah... But Lico is smaller, so there’s no reason to suspect him.”

“But what if the boy before us is the actual Mikado Shinsen, and he disguised himself at the hotel? Shinsen was wearing some sort of disguise back then.”

“The possibility stands to reason,” Lico admitted.

“I-If that’s your logic, then even I could be Shinsen in disguise too.”

“No, I’m certain you’re Yui,” Kyoko responded.

“How can you be so sure?”

“...Y-Your body was soft,” Kyoko said, averting her gaze.

When she hugged me yesterday, she must have checked to see if I was the real deal...

“Lico, say something to counter her!”

"That’s quite difficult. Her claim can’t be disproven. No matter how much we discuss it, it’ll always come back to ‘Lico might be Shinsen, or he might not’ in the end.”

“Why do you always have to complicate things? All you need to say is that you’re not Mikado Shinsen!”

“I’m not Mikado Shinsen.”

But Kyoko’s piercing gaze showed no sign of relaxing.

“Can you really not trust him, Kyoko?”

“I’d say I trust him about 60%.”

“An oddly specific percentage,” Lico smirked, shrugging his shoulders. “How did you end up with that figure?”

“Your voice. You aren’t altering it. But Mikado Shinsen clearly had an adult male voice.”

“That’s right!” I exclaimed. “No matter how talented he is at disguises, he can’t replicate both a prepubescent voice and an adult voice.”

...But was something like that really impossible for Mikado Shinsen?

I forced myself to ignore the thought that crossed the back of my mind.

“So you’ve decided to trust me?” Lico asked.

“Like I said, I trust you 60%.”

“Both of you, shake hands and make up,” I urged. “At 60% strength is fine.”

Kyoko reluctantly stuck out her hand. Lico politely grabbed onto it and smiled.

“Alright, now we’re all friends. Lico, shake my hand too, since we didn’t earlier.”

I offered my hand out, and he went along. His hand was small like a girl’s. I couldn’t imagine Mikado Shinsen having such a tiny hand.

“Now we can finally get somewhere,” I said.

I started lining up the twelve challenge cards on the floor. The cards detailed cases that were either underway or imminent. And we had to solve all twelve of them.

I grabbed a retractable pointing stick from nearby and started leading the conversation like a commander, with Lico sitting politely on the floor and Kyoko on the edge of the bed.

“If we stick together as a group, there’s no way we can solve all the cases in time. We need to split up and conduct separate investigations. Any objections?”

The two of them shook their heads.

“Fortunately, twelve can evenly be divided by three, so we can each be responsible for four cases.”

As those words came out of my mouth, my head started spinning. Four cases? It took all my strength to solve just one case; how was I going to manage solving four at once by myself?

“First, let’s look up each of the locations where a Duel Noir will be held this time around, and divide them into sets of four based on geographic proximity.”

“Excuse me, Professor.”

“Yes, Lico?”

“If the murders have already occurred, we don’t need to go to each and every location individually. Since I can obtain any and all relevant police information, we might be more effective playing the role of armchair detectives.”

“But that means turning a blind eye and giving up on any crimes that haven’t been committed yet. We can’t knowingly do that!”

These challenge cards also warned of future crimes. Through intuition and reasoning, a detective could successfully prevent a murder from happening.

“But even so, I do think it’s impossible to solve them all,” Kyoko said, slowly shaking her head. “One wrong move and we may end up trapped in one place until the deadline passes, like back at Norman’s Hotel... Among these cases, there’s one set on a cruise liner; it might be stuck out at sea for the whole week once it sails off.”

“Y-Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Taking that into account, I believe it would be better to group the cases according to cost rather than location. We can divide them up between us by counting off from lowest to highest cost, and then we can tackle them in any order we want.”

“Then I’ll reorder these by cost...”

“Come on, hurry up,” Lico threw out his hands in boredom. “Just leave them all to me and I’ll be finished by the time limit.”

“Even for you, something like that is—”

“100% doable.” A cheerful expression formed on his face.

Such a task may have been well within his capabilities.

...In fact, this Duel Noir challenge may have originally been intended as a duel between the triple-zero class detectives, plus the Kirigiri family. Rei Mikagami joining the side of the detectives had to have been foreseen by Ryuuzouji, who probably considered the elusive figure, instead of me, as his true opponent. Or perhaps, that role was filled by Kyoko. Her low rank was only because she hadn’t been active as a detective for a long time, but Ryuuzouji and the Committee must have realized her rank didn’t reflect her true abilities.

The more I thought about it, the clearer it was that I had no business being part of this battle.

Maybe I should leave everything to him...

“I wonder which case will be the most puzzling.” Like an eager puppy wagging his tail after having received a new toy, Lico scanned the challenge cards with a spark in his eyes. “It’s not a real mystery unless at least two or three people die... A higher cost must mean a higher chance of a serial murder case. I can’t wait to see how these weapons are used. Haha....” He was getting worked up.

...No, what am I thinking?

While he was unfettered in his actions as a detective, he also lacked ethics and a sense of justice. His interests lay solely in the thrill of solving mysteries, and I bet he couldn’t care less about the outcome of a case.

I couldn’t entrust everything to him. But I didn’t have the skill to solve a case. If I even had a fraction of his genius, I’d go save people all across the world.

“...I’ve kinda lost all confidence.” I retracted the pointing stick and flopped down onto the ground.

“We haven’t even started our investigation,” Kyoko said.

“I know, but...”

My incompetence frustrated me. But if I kept staring at the ground and sulking, I’d truly end up hopeless. For now, I needed to face forward and stand tall.

“Kyoko, no matter what people say, it’s my duty to go out and save people. This is a battle over my pride as a detective.”

“Yui...” She stared at me with concern.

From her perspective, it must have been painful to watch me reaffirm my stubborn convictions like a straight-F student in high spirits right before a test.

But regardless, I resolved to move forward and trust in the hope that lay ahead.

“I have an idea.” Kyoko ran her hand down her braids. “I agree that splitting up is the best way to solve these cases, but how about instead of us investigating individually, you and I work as a team of two? Being together would feel more... reassuring.”

She had some difficulty finishing that last sentence.

I’d only weigh you down... I stopped myself from voicing those words out loud.

Suddenly, it hit me. In a Duel Noir, the criminal couldn’t lay a finger on the detective. As the summoned detective, I couldn’t be harmed.

That’s right—there was a role only I could fill.

I’ll be your shield.

“Let’s go with that plan. You focus on solving the mystery. Leave gathering evidence, beating up criminals, and everything else to me.”

“So I’m all by myself?” Lico interjected.

“We’ll divide the cases equally between us, so six each. You get two more mysteries to solve than if we split it three ways. Sound good?”

“Works for me,” he replied with a wide grin. His way of thinking was perhaps more simple than I imagined.

“Then let’s move on.” I picked up the twelve cards. “So as for dividing these up...”

“They all sound so intriguing, I can’t choose.”

“Don’t describe them like that. Lives are at stake.”

“Sorry,” Lico said with a petulant look. “But choosing one by one will waste time, so how about distributing them at random?”

“Hmm... That’s not a bad idea.”

Staring at the cards wouldn’t tell us anything more about what the cases would be like, so there wasn’t much of a point to pick based on personal preference.

“I’ll shuffle them.” Lico tightly grasped the twelve cards in his hand, before tossing them all up into the air.

And then...

“Hyah!”

Between his fingers were six darts, which he had pulled out of his suit on the floor. In one smooth motion, he flung all of them around.

One of them whizzed by my face, causing me to flinch backwards.

Thud, thud... Soft noises echoed out as the darts struck different parts of the walls and ceiling. Each one had pierced a challenge card. His abilities were truly superhuman. Looking carefully, I realized one of the darts had punctured my coat.

“What have you done?!” I shrieked.

“I’ll take the cases that were hit.” Pretending to not have heard me, Lico fluttered around the room and retrieved the darts.

I gathered the challenge cards that had fallen to the ground. I sat down next to Kyoko, and together, we looked through the six cases we were responsible for.

Card 1:

Location: The Goodbye Bar — 20 million yen Weapon: Knife — 5 million yen Weapon: Charybdotoxin — 30 million yen Weapon: Rope — 3 million yen Trick: Locked Room — 20 million yen Total Cost: 78 million yen

Card 2:

Location: Museum of Medieval Torture — 30 million yen Weapon: Iron Maiden — 30 million yen Trick: Locked Room — 80 million yen Total Cost: 140 million yen

Card 3:

Location: Takeda Haunted Mansion — 30 million yen Weapon: Dotanuki Katana — 30 million yen Trick: Locked Room — 100 million yen Miscellaneous: Rubber Bands — 1 million yen Total Cost: 161 million yen

Card 4:

Location: Kareobana Academy — 30 million yen Weapon: Candles — 20 million yen Trick: Locked Room — 150 million yen Total Cost: 200 million yen

Card 5:

Location: Libra Girls’ Academy — 200 million yen Weapon: Iron Pipe — 3 million yen Trick: Locked Room — 150 million yen Total Cost: 353 million yen

Card 6:

Location: Twin Abilities Research Center — 50 million yen Weapon: Knife — 5 million yen Trick: Ultimate Locked Room — 500 million yen Miscellaneous: Chains — 3 million yen Miscellaneous: Padlock — 3 million yen Total Cost: 561 million yen

“Hey Lico, we’ve got a case I think you’d really love. Wanna trade?”

Of course, I was referring to the case with the highest cost. I wanted to avoid it, as the difficulty of a case increased with the cost.

Lico shook his head. “Please don’t show me something so intriguing...” he replied, writhing in ecstasy. “We’ll run out of time if we start discussing which one to trade for. It’s best if we call this final. Otherwise, I won’t be able to suppress my desires anymore.”

Showing him a picture of Stonehenge or the Pyramids of Giza would likely push him over the edge. I wanted to test that hypothesis, but now wasn’t the time to be fooling around.

“Only the costliest case has the trick listed as ‘Ultimate Locked Room.’” As always, Kyoko assessed the situation with a calm mind. “I wonder what kind of locked room is worth over 500 million yen.”

“Wait, is something like that really appropriate for my rank?”

A double-zero class detective was summoned for a 1.3 billion yen case. Was a 500 million yen case really within the range for someone without a single zero like me?

500 million yen seemed like enough to do just about anything. With that sort of money, the options for murder were vast. That would be true even if it were the criminal’s own money, but Duel Noirs felt more frightening because the funding came from the Crime Victims’ Salvation Committee.

“Now that we’ve divided up the cases, I should get going.” Lico stood up with the cards in his hand.

“You’re leaving already?”

“Yes, I can’t wait to open the doors to these locked rooms.”

“Wait, do you even have a place to return to?”

“I’ll be heading back to Ryuuzouji’s castle today.”

“Huh? But aren’t you two pretty much enemies right now? Will he even let you back in?”

“Ryuuzouji isn’t such a narrow-minded person. He won’t do anything cowardly like kill me in my sleep. Besides, I still have a duty that I need to fulfill.”

“A duty?”

“Obtain and transmit police information to the two of you. That was my original assignment, after all. If you need me, don’t hesitate to call at any time. I’ll provide you with any information you want.”

“You’re just like a spy. But I wonder if Ryuuzouji will really grant you access to the information under these circumstances.”

“Nothing to worry about there. He’s a fair person.”

Lico was right—I didn’t have any reason to doubt Ryuuzouji. If he wanted us out of the picture, he already had plenty of opportunities to get rid of us. Besides, he challenged me to a fair battle. His simple honesty may have been one reason that drove him to become a savior.

“Let’s do our best,” he said with a smile.

“Right. We’re counting on you, Lico.”

We walked out to the entryway of the dorm and bid farewell to each other.

Next: Chapter 4, Part 1

#dr kirigiri #danganronpa kirigiri #kirigiri #danganronpa #translation #light novel #novel

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kanasmusings · 6 years ago

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[Translation] VAZZROCK Tokuten CD - VAZZRAJI: ROCK DOWN Chapter

VAZZROCK special drama track is always lit LOL. If you remember VAZZY’s version, I’m sure that ROCK DOWN’s will crack you up more XD They talk of nicknames once more so please be prepared to see a lot of translator’s notes www Oh, also, Ruka mentions so many nicknames so fast that I’m pretty sure I got some of them wrong so please, feel free to tell me about it ^^

Thank you once again to Deea for the files~! Please don’t ask her as per her request, thank you ^^

After this are the Starry Sky drama CDs~!

※ Please don’t re-post these translations without permission. Instead of reposting, please just like/reblog instead ^^

Under the cut, enjoy~!

VAZZRAJI: ROCK DOWN Chapter

[0:00]

SHO: Now then, is everyone ready?

ALL: Yes~!/Yeah.

SHO: Shall we begin? VAZZROCK Radio, a.k.a. VazzRaji is~

ALL: Starting!

SHO: Alright, it’s started. It’s VazzRaji: ROCK DOWN Chapter.

SHO: It’s the TsukiPro famous live broadcast radio to get to know everyone better. Today’s main hosts will be me, ROCK DOWN’s leader Onoda Sho and~

RUKA: ROCK DOWN’s MC meaning~ It’s me, Nadumi Ruka will be delivering it to you~!

RUKA: We’re in your care, okay~? Alright, everyone, let’s get this party started! Applause~

(everyone starts clapping)

SHO: Then, let’s start with the self-introductions. Let me see…

SHO: Shall we go clockwise starting with Haruto?

HARUTO: Got it.

RUKA: Ah, a little explanation for those who don’t understand. Right now, the members are sitting at a very round tea table. (1)

REIJI: Why is it at a tea table though? Is it because there are a lot of people?

REIJI: Plus, isn’t it kinda mean to have six grown dudes sitting in a low tea table like this?

AYUMU: If the problem is with the number of people, wouldn’t a long rectangular table be fine, too?

REIJI: Right?

GAKU: I heard from the staff that it’s a tea table from tradition.

GAKU: It seems like a lot of dramas have been born on this very tea table.

REIJI: Wait, wait, wait! What kind of dramas are born in a radio broadcast in the first place?!

GAKU: Other times it’s a serious betting game, other times it’s a serious game of life. And sometimes, it’s a “hey, look over there” kind of competition.

GAKU: It seems like a lot of very personal and famous competitions have happened here.

HARUTO: I-it seems like they were just playing around…

GAKU: Well, that’s ‘cause it’s that kind of radio broadcast.

RUKA: Alright guys, stop~! You’re getting too heated about a tea table.

RUKA: We still haven’t introduced ourselves yet. To the listeners, we just sound like a bunch of dudes who suddenly got excited about a tea table’s history.

SHO: Even Haruto who was all ready to do a self-introduction looks as if he stopped wanting to talk midway.

GAKU: Oh yeah, that was right. Haruto, we’re sorry.

AYUMU: We’re sorry. Please continue.

REIJI: Alright, Haruto~ It’s your turn. Speak as much as you want!

REIJI: This is your chance to be playful and show your quirky side!

[02:40]

HARUTO: I’m ROCK DOWN’s Kujikawa Haruto. It’s nice to meet you.

REIJI: U-uh… That wasn’t playful at all, huh…

HARUTO: I had planned on being very playful though…!

REIJI: …

AYUMU: At what part…?

HARUTO: I made a weird face right at the end.

ROCK DOWN: Ah…

RUKA: Ah, that’s too bad!! It’s totally too unfortunate!

RUKA: Haru-kun, this is a radio broadcast. Just the sound’s being broadcast. They can’t see your face.

HARUTO: Oh goodness…!

REIJI: I feel like these jokes won’t end so I’m going next!

REIJI: (clears throat) I’m Amaha Reiji, ROCK DOWN’s sexiest man. It’s nice to meet you~

AYUMU: You’ll describe yourself like that…?

AYUMU: I’m ROCK DOWN’s Tachibana Ayumu. I’m not used to radio broadcasts so, I’m a little nervous.

AYUMU: I will be in your care.

GAKU: I’m Oguro Gaku. Please call me Gaku, or Gakkun, or whatever you like.

GAKU: Please enjoy yourselves as we slowly unravel our hearts to you.

RUKA: Welp, Haru-kun’s was a bit of a fail but the rest went on smoothly~

SHO: (chuckles) Let’s continue on with this kind of atmosphere then.

RUKA: You’re right!

SHO: This VazzRaji is for the fans to be able to get to know us better. It’s a radio where we’re all supposed to have fun~

RUKA: We can do convos like a while ago but, that’s normally how we’re like backstage or back at the dorms.

SHO: It’s our usual conversation, huh?

RUKA: Exactly! Let’s do it just like that, with a style that’s not trying too hard~

SHO: Maybe there will be people who’d be surprised and say, “Oh, so that’s what he’s like,” huh~?

SHO: Speaking as the leader, I know that everyone has their own cool and cute side. They all have their own appeal so, I hope that the listeners will be able to see that as well.

REIJI: Sho should show his cute side more, then.

SHO: (chuckles) I hope I meet their expectations.

HARUTO: I know all about Sho's cute sides so I'll present them all later.

HARUTO: I’ll try to do my best to show all my cute sides, too!

GAKU: Haruto’s got a “little brother” atmosphere so I think you’re already cute without trying.

HARUTO: Gaku-san…! What do you plan to do by making my heart throb like that?

GAKU: I wasn’t expecting anything.

HARUTO: Reiji-san, you’re making a shocked face over there. Please, don’t hesitate to spoil me, too. I don’t mind.

REIJI: Uwah… If we’re talking about wanting little brothers, I’d prefer Ayumu.

AYUMU: Don’t suddenly drag me into this.

AYUMU: Plus, I’d prefer being an older brother.

GAKU: What kinda conversation is this?!

RUKA: Alright, everyone~! It’s good that you’re getting along but, the conversation’s going nowhere.

RUKA: Let’s get started with the real deal then~ Today is VazzRaji: ROCK DOWN Chapter’s beginning so~

RUKA: We gotta have a talk of course! Here’s the theme~

(Ruka pulls out a signboard and shows it to everyone)

RUKA: “Please tell us all the nicknames you’ve had until today~!”

[05:51]

AYUMU: Nicknames, huh…

HARUTO: Do we just have to write it on the sketchbooks given to us before recording?

RUKA: Yep, that’s it~! But, since the listeners can’t see, you have to read it aloud.

RUKA: Then, everyone will go wild with responding over it~

AYUMU: I see…

AYUMU: To be honest, I don’t think I have a nickname that’s really interesting enough for everyone to talk about.

SHO: Actually, this was the same topic that VAZZY had.

SHO: They had someone there that didn’t have a nickname, too, so it’s going to be okay ♪

SHO: That in itself would make for a good talk.

REIJI: Sho didn’t say any names but, I can only think of one guy who doesn’t have a nickname (in VAZZY)!

GAKU: (chuckles)

RUKA: Alright, the time limit is one minute so write all you can~!

RUKA: After that, everyone will show theirs on the count of three, got it~?

RUKA: Alright, start!

(everyone gets flustered as they begin to write)

GAKU: That was sudden…

REIJI: Oh, for real?!

(everyone starts writing)

HARUTO: (muttering) There’s that… and that, too…

AYUMU: (muttering) Oh, there was that as well…

SHO: Alrighty ♪

HARUTO: That was fast…!

SHO: I had a lot of nicknames that I got from when I was performing overseas so it was all written in katakana.

REIJI: Damn…! Isn’t one minute too short?!

REIJI: Ah, there’s still—Uh…

RUKA: I started the countdown myself but this is bad…!

RUKA: Um, there’s that… and that… ah, and that, too…!

GAKU: I’m done.

AYUMU: Me, too.

AYUMU: Mine’s really normal so, I’m counting on everyone to please expand the talk.

GAKU: That’s kinda gallant of you to say.

GAKU: It’s gonna be okay~ There’s six of us so even if we talk about the weather, we can talk about it for 30 minutes.

AYUMU: I see. Thank you.

RUKA: How many more seconds left? 10 seconds?!

REIJI: Alright, I’m done!

RUKA: AH!

(bell dings)

SHO: Alright, time’s up~

RUKA: (panting) That was bad for my heart…

GAKU: Ruu has a lot of nicknames after all. You get a new nickname every time you go to a theatre.

AYUMU: That’s amazing.

RUKA: Well, being in the theatre is kinda like being in a school club.

AYUMU: Is that so…?

AYUMU: Though, it’s true that it did kind of feel like that during our KisoSekai performance.

AYUMU: It was fun.

GAKU: I think Ayumu would do well in a play, too!

SHO: Now then, now then~ Shall we announce what we wrote?

RUKA: Everyone, here we go! 1, 2, 3, go~!

(they all show their sketchbooks to each other)

ROCK DOWN: Woah…!

[08:33]

SHO: Should I read mine first?

SHO: Let’s see…

SHO: “Oono, Shoui, Snow, Ninja” These were nicknames that I got during my overseas violin recitals.

SHO: I don’t have much nicknames here in Japan. I’m usually just called ‘Sho’ here.

HARUTO: This is my first time hearing that Sho was a ninja…!

SHO: Of course I’m not ♪ Surprisingly, there are still a lot of foreigners who think that Japanese people equal ninja.

SHO: It wasn’t said to me specifically but, I’ve heard some Japanese people being given the nicknames “geisha” and even a kaijuu’s name.

HARUTO: I see.

AYUMU: Apparently, there are a lot of foreigners who find pronouncing Japanese names difficult.

SHO: Exactly. In my case, since my name is ‘Sho’ they felt that it sounded a bit short.

SHO: Though, there were a lot who just called me by my name.

REIJI: Here, here~! What does ‘Snow’ mean then? Or is it directly just that?

SHO: It is. Apparently, it was because of my appearance.

RUKA: It’s true! Sho-kun’s very pale~ You’re also thin and look frail so ‘Snow’ fits you perfectly~!

SHO: Though, I may not be frail as you imagine. That’s all for my nicknames ♪

SHO: Next one is Haruto. Go ahead~

HARUTO: Got it.

HARUTO: “Haru, Kujikawa Bomb, Warrior #2” Lately, I’ve been called “Sunshine Kujikawa” too.

HARUTO: Though, I’m happy that my nicknames have increased thanks to ROCK DOWN’s activities.

RUKA: Aside from the first ‘Haru’, the others sound so intense and powerful!

RUKA: Yep~ It’s proof that Haru-kun’s doing so well in ROCK DOWN!

REIJI: Ruka~ I really admire that positive thinking of yours sometimes.

REIJI: Rather than calling it a nickname, isn’t it more appropriate to call it some weird parts of Haruto?

HARUTO: (with an energetic voice) Let’s do this!

REIJI: Shut up!

SHO: Even though I’ve known Haruto the longest, there are still times when I’m surprised every time I see a new side of him.

SHO: That’s why every day feels so fresh~

SHO: Seeing him play along every now and then makes me happy as a leader ♪

AYUMU: I won’t deny that he’s been playing along. It might mean that… he’s becoming more amazing.

REIJI: Ayumu~ I’ll share my awesomeness with you so why don’t you release your awesome self~?

AYUMU: You’re right… There are times when I think that.

REIJI: Aren’t you… being too soft today?

AYUMU: Am I? (sighs) Maybe I am.

AYUMU: I might unexpectedly like this kind of calm talks.

RUKA: I’m glad that Ayumu-kun’s enjoying VazzRadio~!

RUKA: Alright~ Up next is Reiji-kun! Release your dark past~!

REIJI: Don’t just decide whether someone’s nickname is dark or not!

GAKU: But, isn’t there something awesome written there~?

REIJI: Well, I won’t deny that! I’ll explain it later so I’ll read it for now.

REIJI: Alright…

REIJI: “Amahane, Tenshi, Amaji, Reijii, Autto, Amahacchi, Tenbane, Host, Number 1, Pindon” Guess that’s about it.

REIJI: Alright, feel free to react!

GAKU: You’re kinda chill about this.

GAKU: Man~ I really like your professional attitude where you face anything head-on without trying to hide anything.

REIJI: Being able to read the atmosphere stops people from making fun of you in this industry.

RUKA: See~? Your professionalism is something else~

RUKA: Okay, can we ask you to explain now~?

REIJI: Roger.

REIJI: Well, “Amahane” is another way of reading my last name.

REIJI: “Tenshi” is, y’know? Take the “ten” character from “Amaha” and combine it with the “tsukasa” character in “Reiji”. That’s how it’s read.

REIJI: Then “Amaji” is really just another way to read my combined name.

REIJI: “Reijii” is just a longer way of pronouncing my name. Then “Autto” is from “outrage”. For some reason, only the first part remained. (2)

REIJI: It was just a nickname from when I was a teenager but, I wasn’t really that wild, y’know?!

SHO: Really? I feel like I’ve heard a lot about Reiji’s naughtiness even before I joined the agency.

REIJI: Ah… For real…?

SHO: For real~

AYUMU: By the way, that was around the time he met me.

GAKU: I see now. “Outrageous” Reiji and the serious Ayumu.

GAKU: No wonder you’re natural enemies.

REIJI: Wait a sec! Like I said, I wasn’t that naughty!

RUKA: Reiji’s fans from long ago might be laughing at that sarcastically now, huh~?

RUKA: Reiji-kun, Reiji-kun, continue explaining~

REIJI: (groans) You all better back me up after this.

REIJI: What’s left? Well, “Amahacchi” is self-explanatory.

REIJI: “Tenbane” is part of the ‘other reading’ series.

REIJI: “Host, Number 1, and Pindon” are also easy to understand.

REIJI: I was told that I act like a host sometimes so they gave me that nickname.

AYUMU: What’s “Pindon”…?

REIJI: It’s that really classy rosé champagne brand, “Dom Perignon”. It’s a pink champagne so “pink” plus “don”. Pindon.

REIJI: It’s a really expensive champagne that’s drunk at host clubs so I was given the image that I drink a lot of classy wines.

AYUMU: I see.

AYUMU: “You’re a man who splurges on classy wines,” is what it means, huh?

REIJI: I’ll tell you this, okay? It’s only an image and a misunderstanding, got it?

REIJI: I’m the type who’s actually pretty common and uses stuff until I can’t use them anymore.

ROCK DOWN: We know.

SHO: Reiji has his own perverse side but he really loves taking care of people after all~

HARUTO: He’s a kind senpai who taught me a lot, isn’t he?

GAKU: You’re a very doting man after all, huh?

REIJI: … Hearing it all from you directly is kinda annoying…

RUKA: Then, let’s go to Ayumu-kun next~

[14:56]

GAKU: We’re ready to expand the talk for you.

RUKA: Perfectly ready~!

AYUMU: You make my heart feel at ease. Thank you.

AYUMU: Mine is, “TachiHana, TachiAyu, Ayumin, Warrior No. 1” that’s all. (3)

HARUTO: I thought that they would be all normal but it seems like there’s something more to them.

RUKA: I don’t think you have the right to be saying that, Haru-kun~

GAKU: Well, ‘Warrior No. 1’ is exclusive to us so, putting that aside for now, TachiHana, TachiAyu, and Ayumin all seem to come from your name but—

GAKU: ‘Ayumin’ is kind of a cute nickname.

REIJI: Ah… (laughs)

AYUMU: Mr. Outrage here gave me that nickname.

AYUMU: He harassed me when I was feeling so nauseous from nervousness during filming one time…!

RUKA: He seems to remember it quite well~

REIJI: Ah… That was— (chuckles) Y’know? I was trying to calm your nerves!

GAKU: And so, you two became natural enemies.

HARUTO: My condolences!

SHO: Though, I can totally imagine it.

RUKA: Bullying is bad, Reiji-kun~

REIJI: It was in the past, okay?! It’s all in the past!

REIJI: Plus, I wasn’t planning on bullying him! Really, I’m telling the truth!

AYUMU: Well… if you told me that now… I might believe you.

HARUTO: You’re barely safe. Isn’t that great, Reiji-san?

REIJI: Shut it!

SHO: Back then it was difficult for the both of you but, ever since becoming a part of ROCK DOWN, your misunderstandings have all gone away~

SHO: (chuckles) Isn’t that great?

GAKU: Going off-topic, here are my nicknames. Ta-da.

(Gaku shows his sketchbook)

GAKU: “Gakkun, Daikoku, Gakunosuke, Kuro, Daigaku, Okan” That’s about it, I guess. (4)

RUKA: Oh~! I feel like I’ve seen most of those!

SHO: Out of all the nicknames where they’re all a variation of ‘Oguro Gaku’, “Okan” stands out the most.

GAKU: Right? Plus, I feel like I hear that all the time here and there.

GAKU: Am I really motherly?

AYUMU: I guess I can equate it to you being tolerant.

HARUTO: Though there are times when you really are like a mom.

GAKU: What’s with that~?

HARUTO: You don’t mind us being all wild outside and you always tell us, “Come on now, you boys, it’s time to go~” and stuff like that.

AYUMU: True.

GAKU: Your image of me is… quite something…

SHO: It means that you’re very reliable.

[17:22]

RUKA: Alright, I’m last~

RUKA: “Rukacchi, Ruu-Ruu, Nacchan, Nadumi Luke, Run-Run, Runba, Taruzumi, Borude no Mouchan, Nabebugyou, Kujaku, Sanba, Hikaru, Hakusai, Ruu-nyan, Ruu Nadumi, Shinkansen, Taraba, Imasokari, Mikhail, VazzRu, Ruemon, Pasta, Guinomi, Hachiko, Yoshitsune” were all I could write before time ran out~!

RUKA: I couldn’t write everything down and I think there are some I forgot.

REIJI: No… Isn’t that too much?

HARUTO: What an amazing amount of nicknames…!

HARUTO: Please share some with me!

AYUMU: I want one or two as well…

GAKU: That’s a new kind of joke… (chuckles nervously)

GAKU: Ruu loves nicknames, huh.

RUKA: Yup, yup~ Doesn’t a nickname convey a sense of familiarity so, isn’t it good~?

SHO: True. You do say so during events, too. “You can call me anything you like,” you said.

RUKA: Exactly! Calling me whatever is totally okay~

RUKA: Like, “A Ruka just for you~” or something.

RUKA: I seriously think that.

RUKA: I’m a stage actor after all. When I’m on stage, I live as many people and have lived many kinds of lives but, if I’m given a nickname for acting as that person, I feel like he really did live, you know?

RUKA: Kinda like a title, see~? I’m happy whenever they increase! I’m proud of it.

REIJI: The reason’s quite deeper than I thought it’d be. You’re kinda an unfair guy, huh.

REIJI: You took the most satisfying part.

HARUTO: Looks like his fighting spirit wasn’t to be taken lightly.

HARUTO: That way of thinking has been a good lesson for me.

AYUMU: Ruka’s amazing…

RUKA: (laughs) Thank you~

SHO: I’m so glad that we could talk a lot about your nicknames, Ruka.

SHO: It has been fun but we’ve run out of time.

RUKA: Thank you for sticking with us until the end, listeners~ Did this make you more interested in ROCK DOWN, I wonder~?

AYUMU: Did I… appeal well to you…?

HARUTO: Ayumu-san managed to show his soft side with his cool exterior so I think it went okay.

GAKU: Oh, that’s nice phrasing there, Haruto! It’s okay, Ayumu. I think it went well, too!

AYUMU: I see. I’m glad.

AYUMU: Radio is fun, huh? Since they can’t see us, we can relax and move ahead without being too nervous.

AYUMU: It might be fitting for me.

REIJI: Sho and Ruka’s great at making the conversation move, too.

HARUTO: True. Thank you, Sho. And Ruka-san, too.

SHO: Oh my, I got praised~ I’m thankful for the wonderful time, too.

RUKA: Please look forward to the next VazzRaji, too! But, we have to close this one properly first.

RUKA: We shall part for today in order to meet again~!

SHO: Let’s meet at the next VazzRaji, okay?

RUKA: Alright, then!

ROCK DOWN: Thank you very much!

==END==

Translator’s Notes:

(1) A traditional chabudai (tea table) typically looks like this:

Hence the characters’ reactions XD

(2) Amaha Reiji is written like this in kanji: [天羽玲司]

His nicknames are:

Amahane: [天] can be read as [ten/ame/ama/amatsu] and [羽] can be read as [bane/hane/ha/wa/u] hence when you combine them, it can be read as“Amahane” instead of the usual “Amaha”.

Tenshi: [天] can be read as [ten] (as mentioned above) and [司] can be read as [tsukasa/tsukasadoru/shi] thus, “Tenshi”.

Amaji: [Amaha] + [Reiji] = Amaji

Autto: “outrage” in Japanese is written as [アウトレイジ/autoreiji] so, “autto”.

Tenbane: Going with the ‘other reading’ series like Reiji said, [天/ten] + [羽/bane] = “Tenbane”

(3) Nothing really needs to be explained since TachiAyu, Ayumin, and Warrior No. 1 are self-explanatory but, Tachihana might need some explaining ^^

Ayumu’s name in kanji is: [立花歩] When together, [立花] is normally read as “Tachibana” but the [花] part can be read as [hana] as well hence, Tachihana.

(4) Oguro Gaku in kanji is: [大黒岳]

His nicknames are:

Daikoku: [大] can be read as [oo/ookii/ooini/dai/tai] and [黒] can be read as [kuro/koku] hence “Daikoku”.

Daigaku: [大/dai] + [岳/gaku] = Daigaku

Okan: [御母] is simply another way to say ‘mother’ XD

※ Please don’t re-post the English translations without permission.

If you like this, please consider buying me a ko-fi here to support my work. (o^▽^o)Thank you!!

#vazzrock #rock down #tsukipro #vazzrock translations #my translations #drama cd #YO!! this is lit XD #i love these boys too much www #queued post

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ghostlywritten · 6 years ago

Text

When I Was Your Man (Epilogue)

A/N: haha, you thought it was the end...well, it kinda was.

Words: 5k

I puffed out a sigh as I handed out the change to yet another customer. Looking at the clock I was relieved to see it would only take another ten minutes and I would be done for today.

My eyes were dropping unwillingly as I absently cleaned the counter. The kiosk I was working at was open 24 hours and it was almost midnight now. I had to take this as a second job after leaving my husband for good. It was enough to pay off the rent of a small apartment I was sharing with a fellow student called Lilou and buy some groceries. After I had left Antoine's house that day, I had handed over the divorce papers to his lawyer - whom I knew because he was also a close friend of Antoine's, stating clearly that I didn't want anything but the divorce, hoping they wouldn't have to contact me because of any marriage settlements and that I wouldn't have to see my husband again. Fortunately, they never did.

A slight ache filled my chest as I thought of him. The last time I had seen him was quite the tearful event and I had yet to forget his blue eyes brimming with water. I would never say that I regretted leaving...but I did miss him. A lot.

“You can leave now, Ads,” the old man, who was the owner of this little shop, told me, patting my back good-naturedly.

“Thanks,” I breathed, glad for the distraction, “I will come back by 6 tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, hun. Don’t overdo it.”

I chuckled, taking my jacket and opening the back door, “I’ll try.” He knew I had another job at the clothing store, which went from nine to five pm. It had to be like this, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to keep myself above the surface.

Trudging back home, I shivered slightly at the cool breeze but enjoyed it nonetheless; it was very refreshing after a hard day. And the fact that it was so nice and quiet at this hour was another plus. I remembered that one time I had went on a spontaneous midnight walk with Antoine.

“How do you know if you’ve fallen in love?” Antoine asked, his hands crossed behind his head as he strolled next to me.

“It usually starts with asking someone how you know if you’ve fallen in love,” I replied, thinking back on how I had asked his Gran the same question.

“Yeah, but how do you know the exact moment? Like, I can’t even tell when I’ve fallen for you,” he said, throwing his arm around my shoulder to pull me closer, “I just suddenly knew that I do.” My heart skipped a beat at his open display of affection.

“Well, that’s how it happens most of the time, I guess. You start liking someone and suddenly you love them,” I mused, “It could only take a specific, simple thing the person is doing that would make you realise it.”

“When did you realise it?” Antoine wondered.

“When I asked your Gran exactly what you just asked,” I chuckled and he giggled along, nuzzling my hair.

“And you?”

“Hm...I think when I saw you in my jersey,” he said thoughtfully and I rolled my eyes.

“Of course.”

“And when you were there when I received that Cup,” he continued, stopping in his tracks, “How you were there at every game with your veggie soup-”

“I didn’t bring any soup with me,” I pointed out.

“Shut it, I’m trying to be romantic,” he scolded, flicking my forehead.

“Okay, okay,” I laughed, feeling shy. It hadn’t been that long since we had admitted our love to each other and I was still not used to it, yet.

“I really can’t believe you’re still with me after all I’ve done,” he said quietly, grazing my hand with his fingers.

“Me neither,” I joked light-heartedly to which he glared at me playfully. I watched him close his beautiful eyes and bite his lips.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered and my heart softened at his vulnerable state, “I sometimes fear you’re going to realise that and leave.”

Placing my hands on his cheeks, I pulled him closer to rest our foreheads against each other. “I admit I had thought a lot of times about leaving,” his breath hitched, “But I never did. And after everything is revealed now and there are no more secrets between us, there is no reason for any of us to go...” He smiled and leaned down to pull me into a passionate kiss.

Well, there had still been secrets between us and they were severe enough to make us drift apart.

So, here I was, walking down the same path I had once done with him in the pitch darkness. Three years later.

“Can you believe there only a few days left and we will officially graduate!” my roommate Lilou squealed, stirring the ramen in the pot.

I nodded with a grin as I chopped some vegetables next to her. Although it had taken a long while we had managed to establish a stable co-existence in the three years of living together. “I don’t think I will truly process it all until I have that certificate in my hand.”

“And then we’re going to be lawyers, yaaaay!” she cheered, “I’m so done with university.”

“Me too, my brain is all mushy after all these exams,” I said with a yawn, stretching my limbs.

“I still don’t get how you’ve managed to pass them all with two jobs at the same time,” she said, incredulously.

“Well, I did pass them all but not exactly with flying colours,” I sighed, disappointed.

“Who cares. You still got job offers and that’s what counts,” Lilou said, placing a bowl with steaming noodles in front of me, “Cheers!”

I laughed, “You forgot the vegetables.”

She pouted, “Are they even needed in ramen?”

“No, but they’re healthy,” I insisted, adding the chopped goods into the pot.

“No, but they’re healthy,” Lilou mocked and I glared at her playfully. “You’re like my mom.”

“She’s going to be happy that you have me as your roommate then,” I sniffed, stirring the noodles.

“She actually is,” she giggled just as her phone rang, “Oh! Mathis is calling! Excuse me.” I smiled fondly at her excitement as I watched her pick up and leave the room with a bounce in her step. Love can do that to you.

Looking down with a sigh, I absently proceeded to fill two bowls up, the ghost of Antoine jumping around me in happiness at the prospect of food.

“You seriously make the best food, Addy!”

I shook my head quickly and walked towards the small table in the kitchen just as Lilou came back.

“Sorry, I had to take that,” she said, eagerly taking one of the bowls for her.

“No need to apologise,” I replied and she smiled. “Mathis was just asking whether I had time tomorrow for a little dinner date,” she rambled as we started eating.

I hummed, “Good. As far as I know you’d be lazing around otherwise.”

She pouted, “Would not!” I raised an eyebrow and she sighed in defeat, “Okay, I would.”

“Anyways, you remember his friend Jacques from that party, right?”

“The one you forced me to go to?”

“Exactly,” she said, snapping her fingers, “He was the one with the super broad shoulders and great hair, you know?”

“I guess. Why do you ask?” I asked, dreading her answer as she smiled coyly.

“Well, a bird twittered me that he might or might not be very interested in having a date with you-”

I sighed.

“-and since he is too shy to ask, Mathis is suggesting a double date tomorrow.”

“No, thank you,” I said plainly and her face dropped.

“Oh come on, Addy!”

“Nope, I’m good.”

“Why though? You haven’t had a boyfriend in the past three years and this is your golden time. He’s such a gentleman, you would love him,” she tried to convince me but I shook my head resolutely.

“You know that I just got out of a marriage, Lilou.” I had told her one day when we had talked about past relationships and stuff, but not exactly what happened to cause a divorce.

“That was years ago, Addy. You can’t be hung up on the past,” she said softly and I wished it would be that easy.

“I’m not ready, yet, Lilou,” I said quietly, “And it wouldn’t be fair on any guy to date them with only half a heart.”

Lilou sighed, exasperated, “As mature as that sounds - and I applaud you for that - you don’t necessarily have to think you’re looking for a rebound. More like someone, who can help you heal with their love for you.”

“Even so, this is not the right time for it,” I said, swishing the noodles around in my bowl, “We’ll graduate in a few days and then I’m going to start working. I need to stay focused and dating would only distract me from everything I’ve worked for for so long.”

“I get that, really,” Lilou replied, staying silent for a second, “But I fear you will get stuck too deep into your career to ever find time for a relationship once you start.”

That was what I was aiming for but she didn’t need to know that. As nice as it would be to have a romantic happy ending, the world simply didn’t work like that in my case. Ever since my marriage I had developed major trust issues that I hadn’t been able to overcome, yet. Even Lilou, who I had known for years now and who never did anything to me, didn’t know half of the things that had happened in the past because I simply didn’t want to be vulnerable. And confiding in someone would make me vulnerable.

And not only her, I had kept everyone a good distance away. Jennifer, who had tried to reach out for me after that disaster of a party, left for England in despair after I had picked up only one of her calls, asking for some time alone and that I would call her back. Which I never did.

Olivier, who I hadn’t been that close to, but who still took my phone number from his wife to ask whether I was okay to which I could hardly keep my sobs in.

Gran, whose calls I didn’t even pick up but listened to her voicemails, her soft voice that used to be so soothing only sending chills down my spine after knowing that she had played with us like puppets.

My father, whom I was surprised had bothered to call at all only to hear him scold me for throwing Mother out of the hotel room. I had ended the call during his mid-rant.

All of them, who had been part of my everyday life (mostly), had been cut off without mercy. I simply couldn’t face them anymore without being reminded of that part of my life.

Though the past would always come back to haunt you.

And my past came to haunt me one day before graduation in form of my former best friend knocking on my door.

“Cateline,” I whispered, my throat turning dry in a second.

She looked at me with eyes so painfully familiar, so painfully friendly, reminding me of all the years we had shared together before Antoine came along, overshadowed by her cruel actions.

“Hey, Adeline,” she greeted me softly, swallowing nervously.

“What are you doing here?” I asked in shock, “How did you find me?”

“Well, I knew you were going to this university and I asked around a bit, showing a picture of you. It took me about an hour and a few embarrassing knocks on wrong doors to get here,” she said, chuckling sheepishly.

“Why would you come here?”

“I...can I come in first?”

“No.”

She winced at the cold tone in my voice and shuffled her feet anxiously. “O-okay. First and foremost, I came to apologise. And I know I’m three years late, but it took me that long to find the courage to actually face you again.”

“I don’t think an apology is going to get us anywhere, Cateline.”

“I didn’t expect that,” she said quickly, “I know we can’t go back to how we used to but I’d like to at least say sorry once-”

“Great, you said it. Now bye,” I said, trying to close the door but she held it open.

“Please, Addy. Hear me out!”

“What? What else do you want?”

“I would like to explain.”

“What do you want to explain?” I asked incredulously, raising my voice, “Like, seriously. What’s the point? I’m not going to forgive you and no reason on earth can justify that you slept with my husband whilst faking a friendship with me!”

“It wasn’t fake, Addy! Come on, we’ve been friends for years before Antoine happened.”

“Yes, did you ever think about that when you met up with my ex behind my back?”

She breathed in shakily, “Yes. Of course. I felt so guilty. But I couldn’t help but fall for him and when he reciprocated my feelings...it just happened.”

“Yeah...because stuff like that just happens,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead as a headache was forming. “Cateline, there’s really no point of you being here.”

“I...I’m sorry, Adeline,” she said with tears forming in her eyes, “And I wish I never let a guy come between us.”

I nodded, sucking my lips in as my own eyes watered slightly. “Me too.”

She gulped, nodding as well before she slowly turned around to leave when she halted and faced me again. “I also have something for you...from Antoine.”

My breath hitched as she held up a ring; my stolen wedding ring to be precise. “H-how?”

“I had talked to Antoine to apologise to him as well before I came here. He told me that he flew over to Russia to search the boy, who’s stolen it from you, but never had to courage to face you after he found it...we’re pretty similar in that aspect,” she chuckled weakly as I kept staring at the sparkling wedding band, “So he asked me to give it to you in his stead.”

My hand shook as I picked it up, swallowing tightly. “...thanks.”

“If you can, you should forgive him. He’s taking this divorce pretty badly.”

“Ditto,” I replied quietly, my voice breaking slightly.

The next day started with red, puffy eyes and a pounding headache. Not the best way to begin your graduation day.

“As if I’m hungover again,” I grumbled, remembering that one time in Russia where I had woken up the same way, only that I was naked and had lost my virginity. I chuckled. Even up to this day I couldn’t remember a single thing from that night.

“Addy! Get up!” Lilou yelled from the other room, “Today is the day!”

“I’m up,” I shouted back, running a hand over my face with a groan.

“Now, there’s the grad girl,” my roommate said as she strolled. She flinched, “Holy shit, you look like crap!”

“Thanks a lot,” I grumbled.

“What happened?” she wondered, settling down on the bed next to me.

“Nothing much. Just the past haunting me,” I said vaguely.

“Ah, right...what?”

I chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. Right now, I just wanna celebrate how we are over with university now!”

“Okay...You better get ready then. The ceremony starts in two hours!”

I took a long, hot shower, trying to forget about yesterday’s encounter. It might have not helped that I had stared at the ring all night, all memories flooding back that I had tried to so desperately to push down. ‘You graduate today, Adeline,’ I thought to myself, ‘A new point in life is starting for you. Focus on that.’

Stepping out of the bathroom, my eyes immediately caught sight of the ring on the bed. A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I went over and picked it up, observing it quietly. It wasn’t big or fancy, just a small silver band with a small diamond and our names engraved on the inside.

I put it on my ring finger, reminiscing in the familiar feeling of it. My chest burned at the nostalgic rush that went through me. I knew I was missing him deeply.

“Addy! Mathis said he would pick us up in about an half an hour. Be ready!” Lilou exclaimed, efficiently breaking me out of my stupor.

“Crap,” I muttered, still in my bathrobe and my hair dripping wet.

Blow drying my hair had never taken so agonisingly slow as I tried to do my makeup at the same time.

Finishing up I grimaced at my own face. “Eh...could be worse,” I muttered, cursing under my breath when I only had another ten minutes left. I rushed over to the small wardrobe, eyes flicking through the three dresses I had.

I bit my lip, fingering the one I had been wearing at the last party at Antoine’s home. It would have been a nice blissful day, a sweet memory if everything had gone the way I had expected it to. I wondered if the people present at that party still remembered me and the most humiliating moment of my life, whether they were laughing about it or pitying me.

“It’s a really cute dress,” Lilou said from behind me, causing me to flinch in surprise.

“Dear God, when did you come in?”

Lilou giggled, “Around five minutes ago. I was wondering when you would stop spacing out but it got boring after a while.”

My eyes widened when I heard a knock on the front door. “Put it on, I will entertain Mathis. If you know what I mean,” my roommate said, winking suggestively. I rolled my eyes but did as ordered, swiftly putting the dress on.

“I’m done, stop snogging each other,” I said, walking past the smooching couple on the couch as I grabbed my purse.

Mathis chuckled, “Hey Addy. You excited for today?”

“Obviously. I’ve been waiting for this for three years,” I said with a grin, which he reciprocated.

“I can tell. I remember when I graduated-”

“Which was a decade ago, now chop chop. We’re late,” Lilou cut him off, rushing past him and outside.

We followed her with her boyfriend grumbling, “It was only two years ago.”

I had to admit I almost teared up when I finally received that scroll up on the stage with a crowd cheering in front of me. I shook the headmasters and professors’ hands before looking over at the mass of people. I could see them all clapping out of simple politeness, which was a bit depressing to think about. But I smiled when I saw Mathis and Lilou hollering like crazy whilst Jacques stood next to them, trying to pretend he didn’t know them.

Laughing at them I carefully climbed down the stairs, hoping not to trip like the one before me.

“We did it!” Lilou squealed, squishing me into a hug after the ceremony.

“Yes, we did!” I exclaimed, not being able to contain myself.

“Group hug!” Mathis yelled, crushing us both against his chest and Jacques joined in with a laugh. I felt warmth at their action and squeezed them tightly as they shared this special moment with me.

“We gotta celebrate this,” Jacques suggested and we nodded in agreement.

“Sounds great! I’m gonna tell my parents real quick!” Lilou agreed eagerly, tugging Mathis along with her.

I bit my lip at the sudden silence, smiling awkwardly at Jacques, who had his hands stuffed in his pockets and a shy grin on his face.

“Congratulations,” he cheered with a laugh, squeezing my arm gently and I chuckled.

“Thank you, I still can’t really believe it. It’s like a dream.”

“Yeah, I felt that way too...you will wake up on your first day at work,” he said, causing us both to laugh. “You know where you’ll start, yet?”

“I got a few offers but I don’t know, which one to accept. It’s a big decision.”

Jacques nodded. “Take your time.” Another silence and I sighed inwardly at the awkward tension, trying to come up with some topic when he spoke up again, “Hey, um...can you tell me why that guy over there has been staring at you for the past three minutes?”

“Huh?” I turned around to follow his line of sight.

“It’s kind of creepy,” he commented, nodding in the general direction. My eyes widened when I met Antoine’s.

“What on earth...,” I muttered, my heartbeat quickening. I watched him shuffle nervously before he strolled over in an overly casual but determined manner.

“Do you know him?” Jacques asked though I could only hear him vaguely. I glanced around panicked, not knowing whether I wanted Antoine to come over or not whilst he kept getting closer.

“Adeline,” he spoke and I closed my eyes, listening to his melodic voice after being deprived of it for so long.

“Hey, mate. I don’t know who you are, but please don-”

“Jacques,” I interrupted him shakily, “Don’t worry, I know him. Could you leave us alone for a minute?” Mathis’ friend looked down at me with a crease on his forehead before nodding and walking off.

I hesitated in turning back to face him but did so anyways, looking at his sneakers.

“Can you please look at me?” he asked, his voice pained. Taking a deep breath I glanced up. My heart rate took a screeching halt when I gazed into his ocean blue eyes and I almost gasped at the amount of emotions that rushed through me.

He smiled slightly, his eyes flickering through my face as he took in my appearance. I cursed myself for not taking care of my makeup but then cursed myself again for even caring what he thought when I tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “You look great. Graduation suits you well,” he said, chuckling slightly.

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“E-ehm...congratulations by the way,” he stuttered and he held up a bouquet of my favourite flowers for me that I hadn’t noticed until now. I took it, almost flinching at the electric shock that rushed through my veins when his fingers brushed mine.

“Thank you,” I said again mechanically.

“Um, I found out the ceremony is today and wanted to congratulate you in person...despite everything that happened I wanted to say I’m really proud of you,” he answered my unasked question, scratching his neck.

“Thank you...” I cringed at how repetitive my responses, “I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you or anyone for that matter to come. It's quite the surprise.”

“Well, I’ll be glad to surprise you once more. Jen and Olli are waiting eagerly to congratulate you as well,” Antoine said with a grin as he looked behind me. And not a second later did I jump when two bodies collided against my back.

“Congratulations Addy/Snoring Beauty!” The Giroud pair shouted from the top of their lungs.

“You guys! What are you doing here?” I asked in delighted shock as I turned towards their beaming faces.

“Girl, you think I would miss your graduation?” Jennifer asked, crushing me into another hug. I felt tears well up in my eyes as I wrapped my arms around her as well. Despite the fact that I had pushed them away they still decided to come over and spent the most important day of my life with me.

“You...I...this-” I stuttered, trying to portray my gratefulness and say sorry at the same time but I was too choked up.

“We get it,” Olivier said, patting my head affectionately. I smiled thankfully before being reminded of the person standing behind me.

“Oh my God. Is that Antoine Griezmann and Olivier Giroud?” Mathis exclaimed in shock as he approached us with Lilou and her parents.

“Friends?” Jennifer asked, still holding onto my arms, and I nodded. “Then yes, they are,” she said with a grin and I chuckled when I saw Mathis seemingly close to fainting. He was a passionate football fan to say the least.

Antoine cleared his throat, catching my attention again. I observed him shoot the Giroud pair a demanding look to which they reacted immediately.

“I bet, you’re a big fan,” Olivier said, approaching Mathis with Jennifer, “Let’s talk about how much of a fan of mine you are over there.”

And once again, I was alone with my ex-husband. “Um, thank you for coming,” I said too politely.

He nodded and I felt a bit uncomfortable at his intense gaze. “Addy,” he started softly and dared to take a step closer, sighing quietly in relief when I didn’t move away. “I-I had a whole speech planned out about what I would say when I saw you again, but somehow I can’t remember a single word of it,” he chuckled almost desperately.

I took a deep breath. “You had Cateline give me the wedding ring...,” I trailed off, waiting for him to fill me in on the ‘why’. I had been racking my brain over this ever since I had received it.

“Oh right! She gave it to you then, good. I wasn’t sure she would,” he brightened up before he tried to shrug it off, “Yeah, it was crazy. I suddenly got a package from Russia, seems like the police has found the boy and got your purse bac-”

“But...she said you flew over and searched for it?” I wondered with furrowed eyebrows and he blanched.

“O-oh, she told you?” Antoine cleared his throat, sighing, “Yeah ok. I admit, I went there. I first wanted it for myself so I had something from you to hold on to...” I swallowed slightly at his confession, feeling a tiny spark of warmth spreading out of that emptiness in me, “But then I thought I would give it to you instead...since it actually belongs to you.”

I nodded, “I will keep it.” He beamed and I glanced down at the flowers in my hand, not being able to see him without feeling like my heart would jump out of my chest.

Hearing him gulp I got startled at how close he had gotten at this point. “Addy, I know...I know I screwed up real bad and there’s no way you can forgive me...but forgive me, please?” he ended sheepishly.

I huffed out a laugh at his blunt ways, causing him to beam in happiness. “Antoine, I...I think I’m actually in the process of forgiving you.”

“Really?” he breathed out in shock.

“Yes...I miss you a lot-”

“I miss you, too! God, Addy. You-You don’t know how much I miss you,” he said earnestly, his warm hand gripping on my arm softly.

“-But...,” his smile faded, “...even if I’m able to forgive you someday, I won’t be able to forget.” His hand fell off and he closed his eyes, furrowing his brows in agony. “It wouldn’t be a healthy relationship, Antoine.”

“Better toxic than nothing, eh?” he suggested, chuckling weakly.

I shook my head with a smile, “I’m grateful that you came, really.”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I’m glad I came, too. At least I got to see you again for a few minutes.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while.”

“Three years and 16 days,” he said, “Not that I’m counting.”

I laughed slightly before shaking my head. “Sure. Do y-”

“Hey, so Mathis said you’re going to celebrate at some Italian restaurant,” Olivier cut me off as he jogged over, “We should get going.”

“Oh, you gonna join us?” I asked, smiling brightly and he nodded eagerly. “For sure. Come on, you guys. They’re waiting!” he said, already turning around and jogging back where he had come from.

“Ehm, I probably shouldn’t join,” Antoine said as I opened my mouth to speak, “I gotta go anyways.”

I tried not to show my disappointment. “Okay then. I should go over, the others are waiting.”

“Right! Right...” Antoine stepped forward and my heart pounded in my chest when he leaned in tentatively to kiss my cheek. “Congratulations,” he whispered, his breath brushing my skin and causing goosebumps to erupt. I tried to breathe as evenly as possible when I felt him push something into my hand. Glancing down I took hold of the brown envelope that he gave me, furrowing my eyebrows in confusion.

"What is this?" I wondered, looking up into the shining eyes of my ex-husband. He smiled slightly, "Just something I wanted you to have for a long time. I'll see you around."

"Ehm ok," I replied dumbly, wondering what he meant. I couldn't see him around, he was working in Spain. He waved goodbye as he turned his back around.

I couldn’t tell how long I watched him walk away even after he was out of sight, willing my body not to run after him and cling onto him like a koala. Pain seared through me at the thought of never seeing him again but I knew it was better this way. It was better this way, right?

Reaching into the envelope numbly, I was confused at the amount of papers in them, especially at the once that were ripped in half. Taking out one of the papers that was not ripped I read through the first paragraphs. It was a contract for a football team, Paris St. German, signed by Antoine. My jaw dropped, 'He left Atletico?'

Shaking my head in shock I proceeded to fish out the other papers, trying to discern what was written. It only took me two seconds to recognise the divorce papers, signed by Antoine and me. And ripped to pieces. "What...," I whispered. Did he never-

I peeked into the envelope again for some kind of answer when I noticed another small piece of paper, folded in half.

His old number was scribbled on it with a few simple words:

I won't give up on us, Patricia. Your Spongebob.

End. For real now.

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#antoine griezmann #football fanfictions #antoine griezmann imagine #football oneshot #football #antoine griezmann imagines #antoine imagines #atletico madrid #france nt #football-fan-fictions #Football Fanfiction #antoine #griezmann imagine

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carmenxjulia · 6 years ago

Text

You Never Did Get My Name Ch5

Title: You Never Did Get My Name, Chapter 5

Description: ✓ Date: set. ✓ Friend: worried. ✓ Feelings: confusing.

[Read on AO3]

"You agreed to what?!"

Carmen flinched at the volume of the voice in her earpiece. She was lounging on the couch in her hotel suite, evaluating her recently freed arm. Since meeting with Julia, she'd been able to get her cast off, and was working to build back the muscle that had atrophied during her recovery. She'd also decided to casually mention her future plans with the agent to her best friend and confidant.

"It's just dinner, Player."

"Dinner at her house. This is seriously dangerous, Red."

"It's actually an apartment."

Player inhaled sharply. He certainly wasn't happy about this latest development, and Carmen was unnervingly calm about the whole thing. Unsurprisingly, her nonchalance failed to put the young hacker at ease. "Did you forget Julia works for a government agency that's trying to take you down?"

"Are they, though? Obviously, it's still Chase Devineaux's top priority, but we don't actually know what A.C.M.E.'s motives are."

"Or what A.C.M.E. even is. You should have checked if Julia had a keycard!"

"Player, I told you, I can't."

"Why not? You've never had a problem taking things from an enemy before. It would really help us to have some information on this mysterious group Chase is working for. Considering Julia Argent is still his partner, safe to say they're both still on the same team. We could know what team that is by now," Player hinted at his annoyance.

"That's just it. I don't think Jules is my enemy. Chase Devineaux would have definitely set a trap for me during our first encounter, but she didn't."

"Maybe Julia is smarter than that and she knew you'd suspect something. Maybe the trap is your second encounter."

Carmen groaned on the other end of the line, trying to figure out how she could convince her oldest friend that Julia was more or less harmless. She stood and began to pace as she attempted to come up with a reasonable way to refute Player's fears. But the more she thought about this entire situation, the less she could rationalize it.

Their casual interaction on the train was the start. It had been easy for Carmen to infer Julia was working with Chase, judging from the use of partner- specifically, "travel partner"- and the C.D. initials from the suitcase she'd noticed sitting on the adjacent seat. While Chase had easily picked her out among the other passengers, Julia appeared to be totally oblivious in her presence. Carmen couldn't blame her, though. They'd never had a close encounter, and Julia was a new detective with nothing to go off of except candid photos and blurry video footage.

After that, Julia had been daring enough to use the number Carmen had left for her. It took weeks, and, surprisingly, the call didn't come from someone at Interpol or A.C.M.E. If Julia had told anyone in her agency about the contact point, no doubt they would have wanted to act immediately. Tracking wouldn't have worked, Player had made sure of that. But contact would have been made sooner. Somehow, there was nothing strange or unnatural in the way Julia had spoken. No indication she was working with others or trying to set a trap or pry as much information as possible from someone who, as far as she was concerned, was a wanted criminal. With her training, Carmen was pretty good at deducing when someone was toying with her, and in talking with Julia, she didn't feel she was being deceived or manipulated. Not on the phone, and not even in person.

Their meetup had been so ordinary. So normal. And when Carmen laid down the ground rule that they weren't to discuss work, Julia respected it. She didn't protest the boundaries Carmen set, the things she was vague about or the topics she declined to speak of. Whereas Chase always threatened to arrest her, Julia was content to chat and have coffee sitting right across from her. It didn't make sense, but then, neither did her decision to leave Julia a way to get in touch with her. Everything was based on a feeling, one Carmen couldn't rationalize or justify.

It should have sent up a red flag, a dozen red flags, when Julia invited her to her own home. But instead, it made Carmen appreciate her openness. Player was right to be cautious. They'd always had to be cautious before, with everyone. But they'd learned to trust Ivy and Zack, so why didn't their little team have room for one more? Maybe not as an official member; but some sort of ally on the other side of the law wouldn't be so bad. Funny, how that hadn't been her plan all along and the idea was just now occurring to her.

Her invitation had seemed spontaneous, not planned or premeditated, like she'd come to the café with the intention of capturing her at a later date. Even if she had, there was no guarantee Carmen would accept the invitation, which would make setting a trap at a second meeting a risk. A risk Interpol, and likely this new agency Julia was working with, wouldn't be willing to take. It was still possible, but not nearly as likely.

When it boiled down to it, Carmen only had a feeling to go on that Julia's intentions were sincere, with no hidden malicious motives. She had, so far, given Carmen no reason to suspect her of plotting something, aside from her obvious association with Chase and previous association with Interpol. Maybe it was because she was so fresh and new, that she was willing to give Carmen a chance at all. A chance at what, she wasn't sure. Perhaps a chance to make a case for her not-so-sinister misdeeds? It was certainly more than any other law enforcement official had given her before.

"It's complicated," was all she managed to come up with. Because it was.

"Doesn't sound complicated to me. This date is a ruse and you're walking into a trap," Player's eye roll was almost audible.

"You don't know that-"

"You don't know that it's not."

"We can trust her."

"Why? Why do you think that?"

"Did you say this was a date?"

"Don't try to deflect the question."

"Not a date, don't call it that."

"I'll call Zack and Ivy if you don't take some precautions."

Carmen smiled to herself, leaning against the back of the couch. It was nice to have someone care about her wellbeing and safety, not just for the sake of a mission, but because they were genuinely worried about her. More importantly, Player was wearing down. This next meeting wasn't something she was going to budge on. Trap or not, with or without Player's approval, she was going. But he was right, taking some precautions would definitely be wise.

"We've already been over the location," Carmen confirmed. "It's a personal apartment, one Julia's been renting since before she started working for Interpol. The chance of a direct connection is slim to none. The property is privately owned, not managed by Interpol or some other secret agency. Sounds pretty ordinary."

"Could still be a cover," Player didn't sound convinced.

"Or it could just be the place she goes home to after work. Most people have those. Pretty standard, normal stuff."

"Since when have you been into "standard, normal stuff" Red?"

"My entire life has been everything except normal. Maybe I want a change."

"Hello? Yeah, someone seems to have replaced my friend, Carmen Sandiego the super thief, with a very unconvincing doppelganger."

"Very funny, Player. Being laid up gave me time to think. I didn't have a typical childhood. And even now, I'm not exactly living a typical adulthood, either. But V.I.L.E. won't be around forever, and when they give up or disband or maybe even die off, what do I do then? Where will I go? What will I do?"

"I always figured you'd cross that bridge when you got to it."

"So did I. But you know me, I always have to have a plan. I guess some part of me wants to be ready for that eventuality. Even if it's years away. What's my next move when there's no more V.I.L.E.?"

"That's great, Red. So what does Julia have to do with finding yourself?"

"She lives that normal life I might have someday. I can learn from her."

"And you picked an Interpol agent to learn from, why?"

"She seemed available at the time."

"Available, huh?"

"Yes. Available. And despite being a government agent, she was willing to sit down and talk-"

Player's snicker on the other end of the line did not escape Carmen's keen ears.

"What is so funny?"

"You're sure this isn't a date? I get it if you don't want me to know, and I think it's a really bad idea to go out with someone who's a potential threat. But you do like to live on the edge and it doesn't seem like I'm going to stop you. So just tell me the truth, Red."

"Player, we've had one conversation. One. Two if you count the first time we met. And I'm a wanted criminal. There's no way Julia would- Not that I'd want to either, I barely know her- Even if-"

"She's available?"

It all clicked into place. "That is NOT what I meant and I don't even know that for sure!"

"Real convincing, Red. Your motives are crystal clear. Clear as Karl."

"I'll tell you the truth, Player. The truth is, I don't know what this is, or where it's going. I don't know, I can't even figure it out for myself, and that's why it's so complicated."

"You trust her. And I trust you. If you really think it's safe, I won't bring it up anymore."

"No, you should be worried, and so should I. I… appreciate you looking out for me. I'll be sure to check in with you before I arrive, when I get there, and when I leave."

"And once during dinner."

"If I can, without Julia suspecting anything. She doesn't know you exist, and I'd rather keep it that way."

"Good to see you haven't lost all sense," Player joked.

"Not that I had much to begin with. I live life on the edge, remember? Playing by my own rules. Running from the law!"

"Having dinner with the law."

"Super edgy, I know."

"Just be careful. Don't let your guard down."

"I won't. I promise. Julia may seem harmless, but she has a secret organization backing her up. And if she isn't setting a trap, I'm going to find out what kind of person Julia Argent really is."

Support this and other stories! https://ko-fi.com/gemology

#Carmen Sandiego #Julia Argent #Carmen X Julia #Carmelia #Player #Fanfiction #You Never Did Get My Name #MINE #Carmen #Carulia #JuleThief #Carjules

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feelingsdusk-writes · 6 years ago

Text

The clothes make the man

The trick to sneaking into a building where you shouldn’t be is to make it seem to all eyes like you should. Stiles has been doing this since he was a little older than toddler and he wanted to get back his Batman action figure from the evidence room in his dad’s Police Station.

(Of course, he got caught that time. He was a kid, what was to be expected? But to all intents and purposes he’s not talking about the after part, but the before. And he got into that evidence room just fine and got his Batman back, so that’s what counts.)

For starters, one has to look the part. And that means clothing and attitude wise, of course. It doesn’t matter if they don a suit if they don’t own it and make it theirs, because they will look like a kid playing with their dad’s clothes and get caught. Apart from that, one has to be able to lie like a pirate while looking innocent like a choir boy if they do get caught. Once one dominates those two aspects, they’re set for success.

Stiles has a three piece suit on, a strut created by the gods and a general I’m-da-boss disposition with a facial expression to match. He also has a very nifty fake identification that he flashes at the guard along with a vaguely superior squint of the eyes (nothing more than that because some security personnel take that as a challenge) that says I dare you to stop me.

He breezes through security.

(Which is good, because he may not be wearing a coat over just lingerie like some girls in the profession, but he’s not wearing any underwear and with the way these trousers fit, Stiles is more than sure that it’s pretty noticeable… which would be a little hard to explain.)

He gets on the elevator and makes sure to keep a calm and unquestionable countenance as the doors close up. There’s a security camera up in the corner and he wishes he could put a hat on, that fedoras where still a thing nowadays… partly because he would totally rock one, partly because that would cover his face nicely. As it is, he has to content himself with using the “paperwork” to cover his features but if things go south and he has to make a hasty retreat, he can always shave off his beard and he’ll be unrecognizable.

(His partner sure will be happy if that happens, because he prefers it when his face is bare and has just been bearing with the change. Stiles needed the beard for this, though, so it couldn’t be helped.)

(Darrows and braiding jokes aside, Stiles doesn’t like having a beard either, to be honest. It’s way to much work to maintain it looking nice and to not let it go over the fence into scruffy lumberack territory. Which, for the record, looks horrible on him because more than a man with a beard it looks like a beard with a man attached. That’s how much the look owns him rather than the other way around.)

The elevator chimes when it reaches the executive floor and Stiles’ eyes dart around quickly, trying to locate any guards and finding none. Mr. Christopher Argent’s office is at the far end of the hall and there’s at least one office in the middle with its lights on, which worries Stiles but not overly much, because despite appearances he’s a pro at being silent when it counts.

And the reward he will get for his services tonight counts a lot. Stiles got really lucky with this one. He’s more than easy on the eyes (fit and handsome) and despite initial appearances he’s not an asshole whose way of getting off is having a capable and attractive looking young man humiliated and licking at his polished and very expensive shoes. Not that there’s anything wrong with that if both parties enjoy it, mind you, it’s just not Stiles’ thing and he hasn’t been always lucky in that department.

He pushes himself forward and advances through the spacious and airy hallway, trying to look inconspicuous as he passes one of the lighted offices. There are plants tastefully placed on both sides and a very wide window on the left that extends from Stiles’ elevator’s exit to another one at the far end (locked after office hours) and he has to admit it’s an impressive view. The smell of pine permeates the air but it’s soft enough to not be bothersome. Stiles supposes it comes from strategically placed air fresheners rather than from the actual wooden floors. Overall, the general sensation it provokes is tranquillity and calm, which Stiles finds slightly ironic since this is a high-end lawyer firm.

The overall effect is ruined, though, when a voice comes right from behind him taking with it some years of his life.

“What are you doing here?”

Stiles turns around abruptly, hoping that his expression is more a mild oh-my-you-startled-me rather than a full on holy-crap-you-scared-the-bejeezus-out-of-me or a fuck-I-got-caught-what-crap-should-I-spew-right-now when he recognizes the big boss among bosses, Peter Hale.

Peter “The Wolf” Hale they call him and he sounded pretty pissed off too. Stiles may have just popped a fear boner just now even if the man looks more surprised than anything else at the moment.

“Ah, good night, sir,” he answers amicably. “Sorry if I startled you. Mr. Argent said that he concentrates better when the office is empty and asked if I could accommodate him today. Frankly, I work better at night myself, so I didn’t mind working the kinks over at this late hour.” He feigns looking and then frowning at his paperwork. “As it is, it will probably take us quite a few intense sessions to hash out everything,” he sighs as if put upon, “so I should probably get going. Sorry again for bothering you.”

He’s a little shit, he knows. Stiles has always gotten his kicks out of playing with dogs bigger than he is. More specifically, from looking harmless like a toy poodle and then turning into a wolf when they least expect it or not letting them realize what has happened until it’s over. Either of those two options is just fine, the reactions are always priceless. He knows this bad habit of his will come back to bite him in the ass someday, but what can he say? He’s a man of many vices.

But, oh, one Peter Hale is the top dog among top dogs and Stiles can feel himself pumped up for the confrontation, the battle of wits, the clash of wills… Ok, but he’s getting carried away, back on track, Stiles. But, really? Peter “The Wolf” Hale. If this isn’t a call for him to… Back on track, Stiles! These pants are tailored to fit him to the millimetre, he can’t afford to pop a full boner. And sadly, as it is, he’s already half mast so he needs to take a grip of himself.

(Crap.)

(Wrong analogy.)

(Abort, abort, abort.)

(You’re a high class prostitute, Stiles, he reminds himself firmly, be more chill!)

Stiles forces himself to nod casually at the man and to turn around to go towards Argent’s office. There’s a pointed silence at his back that feels like the calm before the storm, but he doesn’t let himself react to it and just continues on.

“And when exactly did he make this appointment?” Peter asks nonchalantly before he can take a single step. Stiles turns back around with wide innocent eyes that would probably work better without the beard but whatever.

“About a week ago?” Stiles hums thoughtfully. “On Tuesday afternoon if I recall well. Why? Is there a problem, sir?”

“Ah, you must be the consultant for the Whittemore case then.” Stiles doesn’t confirm or deny, giddy with the knowledge that this may work out in the end even if it isn’t exactly what he planned in the beginning. “I’m afraid that Mr. Argent has taken some days off due to extenuating circumstances and he failed to inform you. I apologize for that, it was very unprofessional.”

“Oh, no harm done, they were extenuating circumstances, after all.” Stiles waves it off. “We can reschedule for when he comes back then.”

“No need, no need! I’m taking on some of his cases until then, and as it happens, the Whittemore’ is one of them. I can pencil you in right now so I hope this at least makes up for the oversight.”

(Crap, Stiles doesn’t trust that congenial smile one bit.)

Stiles plasters a bland smile on his face as he motions to Peter to lead the way and then, discarding the option of making a hasty retreat and the fun that would entail, he follows behind the man towards the one of the lighted offices. As he enters, he takes stock of the room quickly now that the man’s back is to him.

Peter Hale is clearly a fan of the minimalist trend because it’s a very spacious office with relatively few pieces of furniture and trichromatic (black, white and with silver here and there) in its composition. To the left and over a very tasteful but simple black rug, there’s a sitting area with two black leather couches, a big rectangular glass table in the middle of those and a library with law texts covering the entire wall beside the whole set. To the right, and again over a black but different rug, a slightly classic looking wooden desk (oak maybe?) with one of those ergonomic adjustable leather chairs behind and two other simpler but comfortable seeming chairs at the front. At the moment, there are stacks upon stacks of folders and paper on top of the desk, but seeing that even with that seer number of things on it it’s not in disarray, Stiles can bet that normally the man keeps it scrupulously organized. To finish, there are exactly four plants in the office, one on each corner, and little else in the way of decoration. But then again, the view from the massive window right in front of Stiles is more than enough decoration in and of itself.

“I’ll admit that I’m a little… perplexed by your presence here,” Peter states, voice mild as milk, as he takes a seat behind the desk. He makes an inviting gesture towards the chairs in front of it.

“How so?” he inquires just as silkily as he copies the man and accommodates on his seat. He then plasters a genial smile that is in equal parts amicable and challenging and Peter pauses for a nanosecond before he copies the gesture.

“Don’t take offense but the case is an open-and-shut one.” The man carries on, raising up to the challenge and issuing one of his own, and Stiles has a hard time containing a delighted grin. “Besides trying to get a lighter punishment, there’s not much else we can do when the boy got himself caught on tape doing the deed, so I don’t see what it is that you can… assist us with.”

“Well, and that’s exactly why you need my help,” he points out brightly, taking a pen from a holder on the desk and twirling it between his fingers skillfully. Peter’s smile acquires a dangerous edge and Stiles fights to not squirm on his seat at the wave of heat that it provokes on him. “No disrespect meant, of course, outside perspective and all that, you know.”

Stiles may not know the intricacies of what happened with Jackson Whittemore three weeks ago, but he still does know quite a bit because he buys the newspaper, thank you very much, and the society section is always filled with some incident or another of the upper crust of the city. Whittemore is an insufferable rich kid that is always in an on and off relationship with Lydia Martin because of how much of an asshole he is. However, while Stiles may not be able to stand him because of that shitty attitude, he has to concede that he’s also a generally good best friend to Danny Mahealani, who was frequently targeted because of his sexuality until Jackson started to forcefully shut mouths and not care about if it all ended up plastered on the newspapers or not. All of which leads him to believe that the incident of tree weeks ago outside a gay club (which Stiles has been to before, by the way) is less of a hate crime like the newspapers are selling and more of a Jackson stepping up to defend his friend and having the bad luck of just having had the tail end of it caught by the security cameras. So, all in all, he has enough knowledge of the case and of the inner workings of that club to spend at least a good fifteen minutes talking about it without giving the game away.

“Of course,” Peter answers blandly and Stiles shivers again at the tone before he forces himself to snap out of it. “You’re right. Mr. Argent and I may have missed something these three weeks we’ve been combing through all the evidence. A fresh pair of eyes could be all we need to make a breakthrough.”

Ok, Stiles has the self-preservation instincts of a newborn baby and a self-restraint to match, because he wants to climb Peter Hale like a tree right now. That sarcasm was beautiful.

“Exactly! That’s exactly the spirit,” he replies instead tracing his lips with the cap of the pen. Peter’s eyes follow the movement subconsciously and Stiles fights a smirk.

“And you come highly recommended too, so I’m sure your insight will be… priceless.”

“Well, why lie?” Stiles smiles and bites his lip as if he’s being bashful about how sure he is of himself. “I only leave satisfied customers behind so I’d say I’m well worth my fees.”

“That’s a very bold statement to make,” Peter points out as he leans on his chair with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m sure you understand that there’s a time to be bold and a time to be meek.” Stiles explains as he opens his legs a little further and leans on the armrest slightly. “I can be both, of course, because one has to be versatile in my line of work, but I tend to be more brazen when let to choose.”

“Ah,” Peter smirks and Stiles tenses in anticipation. “I can see that. Being forced to take a meek approach must be difficult for you, then.”

“Well, it’s always hard, of course, but it’s nothing that I can’t handle. I’ve been through harder situations than just having to control my natural urges-” he lifts his hand to tangle with the locks of hair at his nape at the same time that he mouths at the cap, as if in remembrance of something “-for the sake of the completion of a job.”

“That’s very professional, I’ll give you that, but with all due respect I still fail to see how your versatility can be of any use for me.”

“Well, that may be because you also fail to see that I’m not only versatile. I’m flexible, skillful and I have a lot of stamina, so it’s next to impossible to wear me down once I have my sight set on the goal. But then again, I don’t understand why am I here trying to sell my services to you when Mr. Argent already bought them.”

Peter remains silent, his eyes boring into Stiles’ with an intensity that leaves him nearly breathless. Then he rises up from the chair slowly and like a predator stalking his prey, he goes around the desk to stop in front of Stiles, who has to look up to maintain his defiant look.

“So,” he says insolently and nearly grins at the way Peter’s eyes darken dangerously. “How long are we going to draw this out, Mr. Hale? I’ve already told to you that my services are excellent and that you need them, but if you still have doubts I have no problem taking my business elsewhere. I assure you I have people lining up for my services.”

“You have quite the skillful tongue, I’ll give you that,” he replies silkily, as he advances the last couple of steps until Stiles has to lean back to look at his face.

“You have no idea,” Stiles answers cockily as he rises from his seat with as much grace as he can with Peter so close to him. The action leaves their faces at less than an inch from each other. “And that’s something that won’t change since now I’m the one reconsidering this whole agreement.”

And with that, Stiles turns to leave. Before he can take more than two steps, he’s grabbed and turned around. After a few disorienting seconds, he finds himself restrained against the desk with a hand pressing his neck firmly against the wood.

“And what the hell do you think you’re doing, Mr. Hale?” he snaps at the man.

“Well, as you said, your services have already been paid for-”

“By Mr. Argent.”

“Ah, but that’s the crux, isn’t it? Because if he bought your services for the company and this company is mine… I’m sure you can do the math, sweetheart.” Stiles glares at him and Peter chuckles, pulling him up and turning him around so he can press himself against Stiles' front. Stiles who is still hard as a rock, gasps at the sensation and Peter smiles like a shark. “Besides, I never said I refused your services, I just said I failed to see their usefulness. But at this point, if it’s already been paid for, any use is better than none, right? In any case,” he smirks as he reaches to tangle a hand on Stiles’ hair, exactly at the spot where he had just done the same moments before to provoke Peter, “paid for or not, I have standards.”

“Wha-” Stiles splutters as Peter starts pushing him backwards.

“I like my twinks barefaced, sweetheart, so that scruff has to go if we’re going to make this experience at the very least tolerable.”

The next thing Stiles knows is that he’s sitting on the restroom’s countertop without his jacket and vest and that Peter is right between his legs tutting a subtle insult about his incompetence. He also has his face lathered up and a barber’s knife is touching his neck, brandished by said man. Ah, and the fear boner is definitely there in full swing. Peter may be possibly smirking too. Stiles would entertain the thought of an adequate answer if, well, he wasn’t too busy paying attention to the very sharp knife currently making its way tortuously slow towards his jaw.

“Well, so far I don’t see where the benefit is in here for me,” the man says loftily as he cleans the lather off the blade and Stiles closes his long legs to press him in as hard as he can in his position.

“I’d say you’re enjoying yourself so far, Mr. Hale,” he quips as he rolls his hips.

“It’s been more trouble than it’s worth so far, the way I see it,” the man smirks pressing harder, earning a shuddering jerk from Stiles. Then he retreats to turn Stiles’ face the way he wants it to make another pass and finish shaving him. When he has his face clean, Peter’s finger presses inside his mouth as he muses softly, “skillful tongue, hmm,” before grabbing his necktie and pulling him off the counter so he can turn him around and press against his back. “But I’m sure you will change that. Right, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Mr. Hale,” Stiles grunts with thick sarcasm as he grounds his hips back, trying to get the reins back and failing.

Peter retreats suddenly and since he still has a firm grip on Stiles’ necktie, he has to follow him with as much grace as he can. He finds himself in the sitting area near the library and has to bend awkwardly when the man lets himself fall to sit on the couch without having a care about how he pulls Stiles with him when he does so. His intentions are clear though, when he pulls again and Stiles has to fall to his knees to relieve some of the pressure and this time it’s him between the other man’s legs.

“I suggest you’re thorough, sweetheart, because this is all the help you’re going to get,” Peter states cockily, softening his grip on the tie just enough to give him some space to maneuver.

“Ah, Mr. Hale, but we’ve already established that I’m a professional,” he smirks against his bulge, looking upwards to Peter’s eyes the way he knows every man likes, “so of course I came prepared.”

There’s just a couple of seconds in which Peter stills and his eyes seem to burn with intensity before he’s being pulled up and into the man’s lap. Before he knows it his trousers are down, revealing nothing underneath, which prompts a growl out of Peter. Then he’s being maneuvered into straddling him and fighting to not laugh because this tastes like victory already.

Stiles locks his eyes into Peter’s before he smirks and reaches behind himself to grab him, enjoying Peter's sharp intake of breath at the action. Then he lowers himself tortuously slow, making sure to pause and squeeze every couple of seconds before resuming his way. By the time Peter is fully sheathed he’s clearly fighting for control if the way his fingers are digging into Stiles’ hips is any indication.

Stiles hums with satisfaction and bites his lip before he smiles challengingly. Then he starts grounding his hips in slow circles, wondering when the man’s control will snap. Peter’s eyes promise a gruesome retribution but Stiles just laughs in his face and makes no move to hasten his pace.

Stiles should have known better.

Suddenly, Peter lets go of his hips to grab at Stiles’ hair and pull his head back with one hand and to slip the other between his butt cheeks. Stiles jerks at the sensation and groans when teeth find his nipple through his shirt.

“You dirty cheater,” he groans biting his lip to prevent a louder noise from escaping him.

“All is fair in love and war,” Peter replies a little out of breath but way more in control that he should have any right to. In response, Stiles tries to go the other route to regain the upper hand and quickens his pace. “Ah, ah, ah,” Peter tutts. “And you where doing so well… Slow it down, sweetheart, there’s no rush.”

Stiles arches and whines softly when Peter presses him tighter to himself, adding another friction to his already overloading senses. He tries to go harder again but Peter’s hold doesn’t let him. He glares at the man and he gets a smirk in response. And no, this is not happening. Stiles is not going to suffer through this indignity alone. Either they both win or they both lose.

With that in mind, he twists his hips sharply, making sure to squeeze as hard as he can. Peter curses, tightening his grip, and Stiles laughs breathlessly.

“Peter,” he whines softly in his ear as he squeezes once again.

Peter curses lowly again, becomes taut as a coiled spring, and jabs a vicious finger in revenge that has Stiles shuddering as much as he is. Then they both collapse gasping for breath.

Several minutes later, Peter huffs a laugh and presses a kiss into Stiles’ sweaty shoulder. “Don’t tell me this is why you were growing that beard.”

“It was completely necessary,” Stiles replies into his neck pouting as he swats at his arm weakly.

“Well, I’ll admit that I enjoyed shaving it immensely,” Peter laughs and Stiles waves a there-you-have-it gesture at him, still too spent to move. “But you’re still a dork, sweetheart.”

“Happy birthday, love,” Stiles murmurs turning to look at him with a loving smile. “I’m sure you’ll love my other present.”

“I will, hmm?” Peter hums before kissing his husband softly. “And what could possibly top this?”

“Well, that’s impossible,” Stiles jokes and Peter snorts, “but I’m sure it comes as close as it could possibly be because I know you’ve been really pissed off about that missing recording.”

Peter freezes.

“As in- How in the hell- You can’t mean Jackson’s-”

“Yeah, that recording,” Stiles says smugly before exploding into guffaws right afterwards at the man’s gobsmacked expression.

(Spolier alert: Peter silences his laughter easily enough.)

—

If you’ve liked this, I invite you to read it once more now that you know that Stiles was role playing to fully appreciate the extent of his dorkiness XD.

Also, kudos to anyone that got that tiny Stiles dressed as a cop to get his batman figure back and that the only reason he got inside was because everyone was too busy laughing/being surprised/ trying to find a camera to record it.

#solitaires #teen wolf fics #my writing #teen wolf #steter

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rhodes-terminal · 7 years ago

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Prompt writing Group? 20,Apr,2018 - 04,May, 2018. Prompt: IT’S NOT MY FAULT. Final word count: 2270. Written By: Keenon Rhodes.

It’s not my fault I am trespassing, the hotel receptionist didn’t interact with me, No ‘How can I help you today?’, not a ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’, not even a simple ‘welcome!’, just a half second uninterested glance. It’s thanks to her negligence that I can do something I have always wanted to do; see the inside of this place.

This building is much older than I thought it was, I knew it was old but seeing a year really puts it into perspective. In the lobby there is a painting of the hotel from the perspective of the streets in 1913 when it first opened. In the painting there is only one street, a lot more trees and one other building; the train station that is still open today.

Let me think, my grandmother died in 91’ she was 83 at the time meaning she was born in… 1908? So she would have been five! Wow my grandmother is older than this place, or was. I sound like a little kid thinking like that it’s kinda nice. I remember she told me she had stayed in this hotel on her wedding night on the tenth floor, said looking out the window was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

Unfortunately I need a card key to gain access to the elevator, that’s okay I’ll just walk along green marble floor for a while, it’s unexpectedly empowering. Maybe it’s seeing a reflection of various shades of mossy greens looks quite handsome I think I will sit in one of the lobby chairs, admire the reflections of others.

The upholstery of the chair look like it had a lot of care put into it, very intricate and the closer I look at it the more detail I notice, like a hand made tapristy, truly a work of beauty. I really don’t belong here, I must stick out like a sore thumb everyone I have seen walk by are wearing some very fashionable fine looking clothing. I am just here in jeans and a t-shirt Is it normal for someone to walk in from the street, sit down and watch people as they walk by?

The sight of a family in the reflection compels me to break my eyes away from the emerald floor, they embodied aristocracy like whoever designed this hotel also designed this family. One of the kids has a card and activate the elevator, I decided to wait for the elevator with them. All of us are completely silent watching the red digital numbers count down.

I remember when I was about fourteen mom and dad took my sister and I to Ottawa and the whole time we were so loud, constantly making jokes and telling stories it’s like we never ran out of things to talk about. We even got a noise complaint from another guest in the motel we were staying in, but that was on our last night so we just ended up being louder. It was a lot of fun.

The elevator door slides open making almost no noise, it’s spacious enough to fit a couch which half of the family floop onto as soon as they get in. Without looking up from his phone the father presses on the button marked seven I step in and press the button marked ten. Just like that I am on my way? No one is going to see if I have a card of my own?

The sharp ping from the elevator hitting floor ten breaks my thought, I was so wrapped up in my own head I didn’t even realize the family stepped off the elevator. Did one of them try to ask me something? I must be mistaken. The door of the elevator begins to close, I stick my hand out activating the motion sensor, the door jumps to a stop like a startled rabbit before slowly retreating. I step onto floor ten...I think all the doors are locked.

Why did I never get a pet rabbit? I remember at one point in my life I had that thought or at least the idea of having a pet rabbit. Now that I think about it, was it that I wanted a rabbit as a friend? How young was I when I had this thought? For some reason I remember my hand was full of marshmallow. RIGHT when I was four my parents had taken me camping for the first time. I burnt my hand trying to grab a hot marshmallow off the fire, I must have thought about wanting a rabbit as a friend right before the pain hit me, I wonder if I still have the scar.

It’s there, it’s very faint, I have to stretch my fingers very wide and hold it at a specific angle so the light hits it just right, but it’s there. I use to look at it so much even show it off when I was in my teens, it use to be so much more predominant I guess time really does heal all wounds. I lower my hand and notice something directly in front of me, on the ceiling; a security camera pointed right at me.

How long have I been standing here staring at my palm like a weirdo? Has hotel security been watching me this whole time? I let my arm fall back to my side and walk away from the mechanical gaze but now I can’t shake the feeling that I am being watched very closely. I turn the corner and find another camera, this one is not looking directly at me like it’s pretending not to notice me.

I have walked past the first camera I spotted at least nine times now, they must know I am here. Any minute now I am going to be thrown out, possibly even charged. I need to find some way out soon, but all the doors need a key card, so does the elevator. I have to get out, I need to- hang on, this door is different.

First thing, this door is about two centimeters into the wall unlike the other doors which stick out about half a centimeter. The door itself looks older, that it’s tattered, the paint is thin in some places, particularly beside the doorknob which is what makes the door stand out the most. The other doors have handles with a slot on top to insert your key card, this door has the most simple grey, slightly beaten knob you could think of, with a slot on the front for an average everyday key, the best part? Someone either forgot or simply did not lock it.

Whatever the reason the door was left unlocked is ultimately beyond me, what does matter is how irresponsible it is, I mean look at me. I was trying to get away from security and now I am in this cramped hallway. Wouldn't it be interesting if the reason was for convenience? Well it’s not my problem.

It looks nothing like the rest of the hotel, it’s like I walked into a completely different building. This hall is almost as narrow as the door I walked through. The walls, a basic drywall, painted with a plain eggshell colour. The floor, large evenly squared tiles, same shade as the walls. Every surface is so dirty is like looking at rotten eggs.

In my last year of high school my friends and I had planned on egging the teachers cars, except for Mr.Gardner he was cool. We had let twenty cartons of eggs sit out in the sun for a week! Then Adrien went a bragged about the plan to whoever would listen and of course Peggy Watts found out and went crying to the teachers about our plan. I wonder whatever became of them, not just my friends but Mr.Gardner and Peggy too.

I just realized, I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I was not paying attention to where I was going, lost track of where I am. I remember every few feet the hallway broke left or right into more hallways, I guess I chose whatever way looked more interesting. Eventually the walls became a maze of pipes and wires, except this wall in front of me now it’s littered with graffiti and the hallway does not break left or right, hold on there is a door frame around this wall but no door.

It’s a service elevator, I didn’t notice it at first but on the left wall on the other side of the door frame there is a number pad. Beside it is a big button with an arrow pointing to the ceiling, below that is a hole, with a pin sticking out of the center of it, I bet it originally had a big button, with an arrow pointing the opposite direction as the one above it.

I press the top button, I hear a faint click but nothing happens, I try holding it, nothing. Maybe it’s broken? I press on the pin in the hole, I hear a similar click but still nothing. Well I have cornered myself, it’s only a matter of time before someone finds me, whether it's security or maintenance makes no difference, this is the end on my journey. Might as well have a peek behind the curtain that is the hotel employees.

My first job was customer service at a chain restaurant, it was terrible and the only reason I took it was because I wanted my own car. It was in my last year of university and was tired of taking the bus, my parents were willing to pay for a lot of things while I went to university, but a car? That was a luxury in there mind. I was at that job for less than a year then I got my first accounting job and never looked back.

If there is one thing I miss about that job it would have to be the collective bitterness all the other employees had towards most of the customers in general especially the regulars, you would at least expect one of them to have been awesome to deal with, no everyone is headache in one way or another. Looks like these hotel employees agree with me.

‘I hate dealing with people’ is either carved or written at least three times on each wall, on one wall someone used permanent marker to write ‘I want to escape this hell hole’ and judging by the shape of the ‘E’ the same person wrote ‘the old management was better’ on the wall across from it. Below that someone wrote in blue pen ‘Fuck off Eric! the old management sucked’ whoever wrote that also wrote ‘dickbutt’ on the far wall, opposite the door frame. A drawing of a cartoon character I have seen circling around the internet, standing boldly on the word that names it. One person simply carved a variety of profanitys all over the place along with a carving of four numbers.

2270 I punch that into the number pad, press the big button, hear a click, the revving of an electric motor, the sensation of being hoisted upwards, concrete wall slowly covers the opening I walked into. Really? It was that easy? At no point upper management saw the elevator code exposed for the whole world to see? Who would have thought such negligence was aloud.

Because there is no door on the elevator because of that I have the pleasure of watching a moving mural of hastily written profanities I really do enjoy seeing as much of it as I can. Suddenly the elevator comes to a halt. But there is no hallway in front of me just concrete and graffiti. I try the code and button again but nothing, before the idea of being trapped enters my mind I hear a rattling behind me.

As I turn around I remember the door frame was also on the other side of the elevator. I find a small room there is a pile of copper pipes leaning against the far wall, a plethora of 2x4’s cut to random lengths, a few broken and abandoned tools and cans of paint with the lid haphazardly placed on top. One can in particular calls out to me, it’s dried soft yellow colour drips down the side of it almost compels me to remember.

I can’t or that is I don’t want to remember it’s...it’s just too much. Turning my attention to the source of the rattling I suppress the memory once again. I walk up the four steps leading to a steel door which leads to the roof of this hotel. I step outside, greeted by a heavy warm wind and pock-faced man, who looks to be about my age smoking a cigarette.

I give him a simple nod and walk further away from the door, he greets it with a long pull from his cigarette and a suspicious scowl, I can feel his glare burning into my back as I admire the sight of my city from this perspective. It’s one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen I wish I could have seen stuff like this everyday.

As I draw closer to the edge I can hear the pock-faced man shouting something, it doesn’t matter what he has to say it’s already too late. I close my eyes and continue walking and let one comfort envelope me; the truth that it’s not my fault.

@lazy-author @writersroses @willowandsnow @fightingforwriting @melodielgrace @jaimistoryteller @imawriterhelp @fictionpot @panticwritten

Sorry if I missed tagging anyone, I hope you enjoy my story and I look forward to reading everyone else. I had a lot of fun writing this. For anyone who is a little lost.

#shortstoryshare

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