#and without diving too deep into things the gods of this world are basically playing tug of war with reality | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joshslater · 3 years

Text

Dionysus

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I was very hesitant when he picked me up at the nightclub. I could feel the disappointment and outright hostility from all the women and a lot of the men as the God walked up to me, started to make out, and then asked if I was up for some fun. That's what you get away with when no one ever says "no" I thought. With his incredibly handsome face, black hair, and athletic build that was probably not a word he was used to hearing. It would be impossible for him to know I was into guys, and coming on so strong could land you in hot water or rather knocked cold on the floor. Turns out he could know, and there was more to him than just utter handsomeness and unparalleled confidence. Way more.

It was back at his place he asked me if I could look like someone else, who would I pick? That's a game I've played many times before, so I instantly knew to answer Marco Albieri, the soccer player. He raised an eyebrow, took a step from me, and asked me why. "I don't know what it is about soccer players, but something about the game makes their bodies stunningly handsome. And Marco is just a step above the rest." He smiled a bright smile, made a dramatic gesture, and I was Marco. Looked exactly like him at least. It took me a moment to even realize what had just happened, but I could see myself in the full-length mirror. Or I couldn't, I should say. I saw Marco Albieri in full Paris Saint-Germain F.C. game kit. Mesmerized I took a step closer to the mirror, and Marco on the other side of the glass stepped closer as well. I looked just like him, my wettest, wankiest dream. I'd come so many times to exactly this fantasy. There was even a sheen of post-game sweat making all the skin glistening in his hallway designer lights.

He approached me from behind, still handsome but now by a much narrower margin. "You ready to fuck?" I didn't even answer but just turned around and kissed him. He wasn't shy in grouping me back. What followed was the longest fuck fest I've ever been part of. We went from room to room. It was like this body had limitless stamina, though it was the body of Marco after all, but an insatiable horny lust as well. Perhaps he had that too. It wasn't until early morning I fell asleep next to him, exhausted.

It was almost noon when I woke up, disoriented by everything. It was like it wasn't until now the craziness and impossibility of last night hit me. I could see Marco Albieri in the mirror at the other side of the bedroom, without shirt, and the most unkempt hair I had ever seen him with. I knew for a fact the secret hairstyling trick was body fluids. I suddenly felt very uneasy and exposed. Vulnerable even. I was here on vacation. How could I leave if I didn't look like my passport? How could I leave this building looking like Marco? There would be fans stopping me instantly. What the fuck am I thinking about? I'm erased from the world. No one I know, no one in my family would recognize me. Could I convince them I'm me and not a millionaire soccer player? Perhaps. But my life would be so complicated.

That's when he lazily strolled into the bedroom, completely naked showing off his chiseled body, one mug in each hand.

"You did this! How the fuck did you do this? You can't leave me like this!" "Morning!"

He handed me one of the mugs. On reflex I took a large sip of coffee only to discover it was red wine. It took me by surprise and I almost sprayed his white sheets with red mist of wine, but instead got some down my lungs and started to cough.

"Is this really the best you can think of?" he said. At first I had no idea what he meant. Then, still coughing, I realized it was my body again. The one I used to fly here, check into the hotel, and go out to nightclubs with.

"I... It's awfully inconvenient if I tried to leave with a different body." "That's it? That's the only reason?"

I felt stupid and unsure what to say. I liked my body, so why was it so hard to defend it? He took a large sip from his coffee mug of wine and climbed into bed next to me, but standing on his knees looking down on me.

"When's your flight back?" "Eh, in... On Sunday." "Plenty of time to let loose. How about going to the beach like this?"

This time I noticed the shift. The bed sagged down a bit under the extra load and I didn't even have to look in the mirror to see the freakish muscles. Two huge chest muscles peeked into my field of vision, and moving my arm I could see it was thicker than what my legs used to be.

I felt light-headed as we walked down to the beach. Probably the wine. He was subtle and classy, black Nike sneakers, black boardshorts, and a white T-shirt. I was anything but subtle. Probably twice his mass, annoying flip flops that flipped and flopped every step, white compression shorts that looked blindingly bright against my deep tan, a purple thong that peeked up over the rim of the shorts by the hips, visible because the neon yellow tank top was cropped above the belly button to show off the abs. The stringer waved for every step as my obscene pecs push out the yellow fabric like a hanging flag. It touched my body in surprisingly few places. Top of the traps and the nipples more or less.

After spending a few hours getting everyone passing by on the beach to turn their heads to observe the freak show he asked me to play floatation device for him. We went out in the water and did our best to have sex just outside where the waves broke. I think anyone who paid close attention could tell what we did, but no one could be really sure. He didn't appear to care.

"I made you something," he whispered. "What?" "A surfer," he said and begun walking towards the beach. As I wiped my long hair out of my face I understood he changed me again. No more shaved head, no more enormous meat slab. I still had a six-pack, I was still 6'-something, and my skin was deeply tanned, but that's about where the similarities ended. "Why?" I asked as I lied down on the beach towel next to his. "First dive bar opens soon, and I thought this would play better to the crowd." I was feeling woozy. "We want to play to the crowd?" He reached over and squeezed the pec closest to him. "Well, make them jealous at least."

There was something nagging at the edge of my thoughts. Some question I felt I needed to ask. I just couldn't quite put it into coherent thought.

"Did you drug me?" He made a high-pitched "Mmmm" sound. "Just a bit. To fit with the rest. Just go with it."

I shut my eyes, relaxed, and let his hand stroke me. I don't know how long we lied like that. Not too long, because the sun hadn't moved that much, but I sure did dozed off.

"Come on!" he said, like it was asking me to hurry up for the third time. A bit confused I got up from the beach towel. I wore a pair of eye-popping turquoise board shorts with black pattern and trim. Neon turquoise, if such a color was a thing. I knew it had a real trade name, but somehow it kept slipping my mind. They had a good fit, not loose, not tight, but rode low on my lithe body. Fuzzy pubes peeked out over the waistband, like a little forest edge where the treasure trail from the belly button ended. I looked around for a shirt or something to put on, but there was nothing except for a pair of flip-flops. These didn't look as cheap and fit much better than the previous pair though.

"Is that it?" I asked incredulously. "What more do you need?" he said, and looked at me like he wanted me for dinner. "Come!"

The bar wasn't far away and already busy when we arrived. He almost danced in, basically dragging me in, holding my hand. I was woozy from whatever I was drugged with, but in a way that made everything look amazing to me. In any direction I looked I was delighted by what I saw, no matter how mundane. The bar was not even half full and everyone looked as relaxed as you would expect from a bar half a block from the beach, though no one else was bare-chested. The decor was a random mix of styles, as expected by a dive bar. Tables for two or four were lined up in front of the bar at the back of the room. From a backroom somewhere behind it pumped music. I looked at my watch to see if it was already dance time, but I was only wearing a red nylon cord as a bracelet.

"You must be thirsty after a day in the sun," he said and handed me an Aperol Spritz. I could have sworn he hadn't left me for the bar, but then I didn't really trust my senses. We took a table for four and sat next to each other, facing the rest of the room. "So, tell me about your day," he continued, as if he hadn't been there for all of it.

For whatever reason I found it hard to figure out where to start, like it was all jumbled together despite nothing of consequence had happened. I began to describe how I had woken up in bed and how he surprised me with breakfast. How I had mistaken the red wine for coffee. I could feel his hand moving down my abs and into my board shorts. As he pulled out my erect cock from the shorts my immediate thought was of surprise. I hadn't realized I was hard. I continued to talk about how we went to the beach, while he was jerking me off with one hand under the table. It then hit me that I had no idea what my dick looked like, if it was big or small. I had never seen it. He had transformed me somehow into this surfer. How could I have forgotten something so monumental.

At that point I shot my load under the table. Four or five large pumps. I was suddenly aware again that there were people around us, and looking around tried to figure out if any of them could see I had my dick out. At the same time I was still feeling high or whatever it was. "I'll get a refill," he said, stood up and headed for the bar. I decided to put my dick back into the shorts.

"Hey, dude. Is he like your boyfriend?" someone standing next to me asked. How long had he been there? He was handsome, not quite as tall as I was now, but more muscled. The tight billabong shirt didn't hide much. "Him? No. We just..." I was trying to think of a good word. I wasn't sure what he was, or what was happening at all really. "Wanna check out the dance floor?" "Yeah... Yeah, I would."

I followed him towards the bar, and away to the side into the dance room. It was far from packed, but we were not alone at least. Immediately I regretted following him there, even before he started moving to the music. Once he did I knew I would look silly. I started to mimic his moves best I could. He smiled a crooked smile, though not an unkind one, when he saw what I was doing. He leaned forward and barely audible over the music asked "Are you up for a second round?"

"What do you mean?" I asked back. "I saw what that other dude did to you. I live nearby, if you want to try something that isn't over in minutes."

In the door opening I see him standing with two large drinks in his hands. He looks emotionless, which in itself was a scary contrast to how he looked before. He then drinks one of the drinks in one go, then immediately empties the other one as well. No sooner has he turned away with two empty glasses when I feel a desperate need to take a piss. He's fucking with me.

"Don't go anywhere," I say and dash towards to men's room.

It's empty. I go to the lone urinal and yank my dick out of the white thong. I'm confused, but happy I got there in time to relieve myself. Why am I wearing only a white thong to a bar? As the piss is streaming for longer than I can ever recall I look down my bare smooth legs and find a pair of eye-catching red hightops. When I'm finally done I have a look at myself in the mirror. Cute, young Latino boy with a red baseball cap on his unkempt hair, and a grey shirt. The shirt in a way makes the thong stand out even more and look intentionally inappropriate. Perfect!

I return to the dance floor and find the guy waiting. "There you are. Let's go!" he says, almost demanding. He doesn't say anything on the way to his apartment two blocks away. I keep looking his way, and it feels like my dick is growing bigger every time I look at those muscled arms. His pace is brisk without being conspicuous, he clearly wants us to get to his place as quickly as possible without being seen. In through an unlocked entrance, up two flights of stairs, and in through his apartment door.

As soon as he whisked me in and closed the door behind us he grabs me, shoves me into the wall next to us, and forcefully kisses me on my mouth. "You fucking whore! I'm so fucking horny you better know what you're doing."

He snores loudly again. I had tried to ignore it to spend a few more hours in the bed, but it's getting pointless to try to sleep any more. I carefully get up and get dressed. No need for a shower, now that everything dried. I make a final check I got everything with me that I brought in. There is that nagging feeling that I'm missing something. Well, whatever it was it can't be important. Quietly I exit his apartment and make my way out of the building. I feel restless being so quiet and calm, like it is unnatural for me to be that way. I basically explode in emotions as I exit the building and literally dance down the last few steps.

I try to think what to do next. My mind is like a spinning punch bowl of thoughts and I'm only able to fish out simple verbs. Party! Drink! Dance! Fuck! The sun is barely up, but perhaps I can find some nightclub still open.

405 notes · View notes

c-is-for-circinate · 3 years

Note

Do you still think Chetney isn't a long-term pc? I feel like what we've heard of his story works very well with the class-warfare themes, as you've already alluded to, and Travis is taking it seriously enough that I'm now convinced he's here to stay.

Oh god yes. Very yes.

The thing is, Bertrand Bell worked really well with those themes too. What we've seen with Travis so far is an ongoing theme of 'elderly men, who in their prime had all of the privilege the world could entail to them, now pushed aside and forgotten by it'.

It's a really cool theme, and an extremely interesting one to explore. Travis has a tendency to play around the edges of...hmm. Male privilege? Expectations of masculinity? Not in the way Taliesin does it, where he plays characters that just Do Not Go Here Sir, but in the way where Travis will build these characters who do have those things going for them, or did, in specific ways and specific contexts, except we're unpicking the edges of where that all breaks down. For comparison, Fjord was a deep dive into expectations, facades of masculinity that will serve and empower men only as long as they can keep the act up. Grog was sort of a proto-this, leaning very heavily on having the hypermasculine strength and capacity for violence, but a lot (though not all) of Travis's one-shot characters play around the lines of 'and where does that break, and what happens then?' A lot of them are cowards.

Basically, one of the concepts Travis seems interested in exploring via his characters is, 'male privilege sure is great to have when you have it, but also ouch that's a sharp multi-edged sword that's hard to hold without getting stabbed by it.' And I see a lot of that in both Bertrand Bell and Chetney so far.

In this case, we're so far seeing the overlapping combination of old age, and an intense class system (centered here in Jrusar, from what we've seen, but also clearly implied to matter somewhat worldwide) which lets these men down once the start losing some of their youth and relevance. Chetney wasn't an adventurer, he was an artisan, but it's very clear that his job, labor, skills brought him respect and a position in society. The big Chetney question is, what happened that he lost that position? Did he, y'know, stab his boss with a wood chisel? And if so, why? (If you really want to get into it, Chutney Chocolatecane assaulted his employer over an ongoing labor dispute and centuries of what's somewhat implied to be indentured servitude, so, like, take that where you will.)

Basically, this is a long-winded way of saying that yes, Chetney is absolutely an interesting character to look at with these class themes! But he's interesting in ways that I don't think are necessarily exclusive to him -- we saw many of the underlying themes in Travis's last temporary character, and I'd fully expect to see them in any other character he might (probably will) play next.

Why don't I think Chetney's here to stay? A lot of subjective, easily-arguable reasons, but what I think it really boils down to is, I'm not sure he's interesting enough for Travis to play for the next hundred episodes. We-the-audience already know how the bones of his backstory must sit before the campaign even began. (Note that this is different from the EXU trio, who we knew as characters without necessarily knowing anything about what was up with them.) Thematic consistency is all good and well, but that's not the only aspect of a character that makes them interesting to play or to watch. We've seen how much Travis loves playing complex characters who can do incredibly unexpected things -- in fact, sometimes the most interesting layers crop up when a character seems inconsistent with their setting/its themes, and that all has to get unpacked later with the discovery that 'oh huh, nope, still here'. I'm totally sure that Travis could make Chetney a compelling, multilfaceted character with enough going on to take us through a shockingly high-stakes emotional journey over the course of the rest of the campaign, but it's hard to imagine him resisting the siren song of building something new, without the somewhat simplistic baggage of the existing one-shot backstory. (Which must be relevant in some fashion.)

As to Travis playing him seriously? Of course Travis is playing him seriously. Travis loves to play. He's having the time of his life being all in on this character who he can put into near-death situations without actually having to worry about coming out of it alive. (And of course Matt didn't go out of his way to kill him/Travis didn't go out of his way to get killed in the tower office last week. Are you kidding, Matt just handed him a map and a massive lore drop, you think either one of them wanted his getting caught before the rest of the party got their hands on that shit? If he couldn't figure his way out of the situation then he'd have been fucked, sure, because Matt sets his players real challenges and sticks to them, but this wasn't the moment to bend probability towards getting Chetney killed and they both knew it.)

Anyway, point being, if Travis does keep Chetney I'll be shocked, but I'm sure I'll love it. Whoever he (admittedly maybe, but I'm pretty set) brings out next, I'm sure I'll love it, because the themes that are so interesting here Travis themes, not Chetney themes, and I'll expect to see them again.

While Chetney's around, I'm sure I'll love it, because Travis goes hard on his roleplay in any setting, temporary character or no. He's also a fucking troll, who presumably wants to keep the audience on tenterhooks about 'oh god, he can't possibly be keeping this joke character for real, can he? Can he?' for as long as possible before answering them for good. I know how all my instincts say that's going to go down.

And remember: Bertrand Bell was around for three full episodes, and by the end of the second episode/middle of the third we'd all started to think he could be permanent, too. There's no reason to think Travis won't escalate his trolling to brand new heights. Give Chetney ten episodes without dying, then I'll believe he's staying.

Maybe.

#cr spoilers #campaign 3 #critical role #chetney #asked and answered

221 notes · View notes

captain-mcdavid · 4 years

Text

alternate ending - pt.1

it’s been two years... josh and y/n have moved on and started new lives. but what happens when they find themselves in the same city working side by side? can they move past their previous games and reconnect? or will old habits die hard?

word count: 4.9k

smut: yes | no

warnings: swearing, alcohol

“Oh my god, please Thomas.” You groan, “Please, can you just be serious for one second. One second!”

He raises his hands in defeat, “Okay, fine.”

“Thank you,” You sigh, “Now go.”

“Wait, what am I supposed to say again?” He asks, and you and the videographer share a look before you roll your eyes.

“Bienvenue à nouveau, fans des habs.” You remind him. “On three, okay?” He nods, and you count down, smiling when it finally goes off without a hitch. “Alright now one more time, in English and then we can all go home.”

He nods, and then shoots you a wink. You shake your head at him, counting up to three for the last time.

“Welcome back, habs fans!” Thomas says, and Ted, your videographer smiles.

“Done.” He turns off the camera, and you give him a pat on the back.

“We really appreciate you coming in Thomas,” You say, “Thanks again.”

“Anything for you, Y/N.” He smirks, and then he heads out.

“Alright, Ted. I’ll see you soon,” You say, gathering your things. “Have a good night.”

With that you wave and head out of the arena. Setting your things in the front seat of your Range Rover, you grin, taking a minute to admire your new car. This was something that would have taken you five years to save up for with the pay at your old job.

It’s kind of ironic, where you were two years ago to where you are now... You didn’t like your job back in Ohio but you couldn’t say you ever saw yourself coming back to Canada, let alone working for an NHL team.

You thought you had it all figured out back in Columbus. But after your life took a nose dive you realized you really didn’t. A fresh start was what you needed, and luckily with your vast experience in media, you were qualified for a position that Seth recommended to you. A position as head of media operations for the Montreal Canadiens.

You were weary at first, because why would you want to work in the NHL after you had a huge falling out with one of the players, but the more thought you gave it, the better the offer seemed. It was in Montreal, one of the most beautiful cities in the world, the pay was double what you were getting in Ohio, and it would be a lot more fun.

Not to mention, there were 31 teams in the NHL, and if the one guy you were worried about did ever leave Columbus, there was a ninety three percent chance he wouldn’t come to Montreal. (Literally, you calculated.)

And now it’s been two years, arguably the best two years of your life. You have everything you didn’t have in Ohio; Stable friendships, a job you actually enjoy, a great support system. You’ve gained in every aspect of your life.

You’ve just walked in your front door, when your phone rings. You pull it out of your purse, laughing when you see your bosses name lighting up the screen. “It’s been ten minutes, Reid.” You say, and he laughs. “I’m off the clock.”

“I know, I know.” He responds. “I’m sorry, just this and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Okay, shoot.” You tell him.

“Tomorrow, media day, I split the players in half for you. We’ll do the first half tomorrow, and then the rest Friday.”

“Sounds fine to me.” You shrug, “What changed?”

“We have two new players flying in tomorrow, but they won’t be in until Friday. I figured instead of saving just the two newbies for Friday and rushing you tomorrow with the rest of the guys, we’d just split it evenly.” He explains.

“Oh,” You say, usually you found out rather quickly when there were trades and new acquisitions, but you hadn’t heard anything today. “I didn’t know we got any new players, trades?”

“Yeah, two trades. I don’t know much, it just happened. New guys are, uh- let me see...” There’s a fast beating in your heart that you haven’t felt for at least a year. When you first started, every time you heard about a trade you’d get a little nervous, cause what if it was him? Eventually those nerves went away, but they seem to have made a comeback all of the sudden.

You shake out your jitters while you wait for Reid to give you the names, “Here they are, first guy: Joel Edmundson, from Carolina.” You nod, it’s a name you’ve never heard before.

“Second, Josh Anderson, from Columbus.”

But that one? It’s a name you’ve heard all too many times.

Thank god you’re not driving anymore, because you’re sure you would have swerved into oncoming traffic after hearing that. You can feel a chill spread all the way out to your finger tips, a unsettling nervous feeling sitting on your shoulders like a goblin. This can’t be happening.

He can’t be coming here.

“Y/N?”

The phone is still held to your ear, but you can barely breathe let alone get a word out.

“Are you there?” Reid asks, and finally you manage to just murmur out a noise of acknowledgement, and then you’re hanging up, nearly collapsing onto the couch. You’re in full blown panic mode.

Within thirty minutes you’ve already fully played out scenario in your head where you quit your job and leave the city, move back in with your parents like a loser and remain single for the rest of your life. And it sucks, but honestly, it sounds better than actually dealing with this.

If you stay, and let everything play out, you’ll have to see Josh. You’ll have to talk to him, interview him, all while acting as professional as possible so no one figures out that you have history. Now that, that seems just about impossible.

In a haze you grab for your phone, searching for a specific contact you haven’t used in a while.

“Y/N, nice to hear from you! It’s been a while!” He says, but there’s a note of nervousness to his voice.

“Seth.” You scold him.

“I’m assuming you found out about Montreal’s recent acquisition?”

“Yup, sure did.” You say sarcastically. “Twenty nine other teams that he could have gone to, Seth. Why here?”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He says, “Ninety three to seven, the odds were in your favor, but apparently you’re just really unlucky.”

“Super fucking unlucky.” You whisper, and you can hear Seth sigh on the other end of the phone. “Well, know of any other teams that are looking for media op managers? Columbus would be great,” You ramble, “There’s a really small chance he’ll come back, right?”

“Y/N, come on.” Seth says, “Last time I heard from you, you were loving it over there.”

“Yeah,” You admit, “I do, I love it here, but that’s all gonna change now.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Seth says. “You said you guys ended things on okay terms, if there’s no bad blood it shouldn’t be weird?”

“Okay terms is not good terms. He told me he’d wait for me to figure my shit out, and then I basically pushed him out the door.” You explain, “We haven’t spoken since then, there’s no way that this isn’t gonna end terribly.”

“You can both learn to be civil and professional,” Seth tries, “You shouldn’t have to give up your job because of this.”

“Yeah, well...” You sigh, shutting your eyes tight. When you open them again you’re kind of hoping you’ll be anywhere but where you actually are, with any other reality, but you’re just stuck. “I don’t really see another way this can go.”

“Don’t say that,” Seth whispers, “Promise me you’ll at least try. Try to make things work, don’t just give up before you’ve even tested the waters. This might end up being not even half as bad as you think it will be.”

When you don’t respond, Seth continues, “You love your job, you love the city, you have friends... You’ve built a life for yourself there and you can’t give that up over this.”

If it weren’t for those things you would have quit the second you heard Josh’s name, but Seth is right... You’ve worked for everything you have here. You owe it to yourself to at least try to make things work here before you give it all up.

You rub your temples with a deep groan, a dreadful feeling that you’re gonna regret this sinking in. But you sigh and agree anyway, “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Yes!” Seth says, “You got this.”

“Does he know?” You ask quietly. “Where I am? What I do?”

“No,” Seth answers, “I can tell him... If you want me to.”

“No that’s okay-,” You decide, “He should probably hear it from me. Thanks, Seth.”

“You’re welcome,” He answers, and you can’t help but smile a little. He was probably the one thing you actually missed from Columbus. “Will you call me in a few days? Let me know how things are going?”

“Yeah, of course.” You answer, “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

He confirms, and then says a short goodbye.

You hang up the phone, and then head straight for your wine fridge. There’s a fancy bottle of white wine that you were saving for a special occasion, and while it’s not the type of celebration you were thinking, it definitely is an occasion. You pour yourself a tall glass, grab a chocolate bar, and head to the couch to start overthinking.

Then you decide within the first ten minutes that thinking is going to do you no good, so you turn on the TV and grab another glass of wine, praying the alcohol will knock you out, because without it, there’s no way your brain will shut off.

After the third glass and your sixth episode of Schitt’s creek, you finally start to feel tired. Instead of going upstairs and going to bed, you just flop over on the couch, pulling a blanket over your body before closing your eyes, avoiding all the thoughts bumping around in your head.

They’ll still be there tomorrow you tell yourself, and then you’re out.

••••••••••

friday

You’re basically tiptoeing around the arena, sneaking players here and there to get their headshots, all while trying your best to avoid him.

Your plan is working quite well, you’ve manage to go over half the day without a run in. You’ve just finished with Shea, and you only have a few guys left, so you go for another stroll around the main concourse, looking for Brendan so you can get his goal animations done. You’re turning your head side to side, looking out for a short guy when you hear a familiar voice.

It’s been two years but you’d recognize it anywhere.

You freeze for a short moment before you’re all but throwing yourself into the room closest to you, which true to your luck, happens to be the men's bathroom. You twist the deadbolt behind you, staring at the door in pure horror.

It wiggles against the hinges, and then you hear him, “This one’s locked, man.”

You wait a good five minutes before you finally tiptoe out of the restroom, sneaking back to your office on extreme lookout. You sigh with relief when you’re in the constraints of your office. You’re finally safe now.

“Y/N,” Reid announces, opening your office door as usual, without knocking.

You give him a small smile, “Hey, Reid, what can I do for you?”

“I found the new guys for you,” He grins, and the smile drops from your face almost immediately. “They’re ready for their close up!”

You kind of feel like there’s a camera that you can look into like you’re on the office or something, because wow, what stupidly perfect timing.

Normally you’d have the mind to fake a laugh at his dumb joke, but you just shake your head in panic, standing from your chair as you flail your arms. “No-,” You start to say, but it’s too late.

“C’mon in guys,” Reid moves further into your office to clear the door way and you swear you could literally throw up on the spot right now.

“Reid- I asked Ted to do their media stuff-,” You try, but it’s too late.

They walk in, and you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from swearing loudly in front of your boss. That doesn’t stop Josh though, you can’t even look up at him, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “Holy shit.”

You nod your head, your hand slides up from your mouth to the side of your face to act as a shield, while you give Reid your fakest smile.

He furrows his brows at you, “Everything okay, Y/N?”

“Yeah, yeah...” You murmur, and you finally drop the awkward hand, crossing your arms with a huff. Your eyes stay trained on Reid, “I just um, I had asked Ted if he would do their media shots and he said he’d take care of it.” You explain, and your boss makes a face at you.

“Oh how come? Are you not feeling well?” He gives you an out before you can even think of one, and you jump on it immediately, nodding your head quickly.

“Yeah, just like splitting head ache,” You say, “Nausea, it’s gross. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks, and you feel terrible because you know he genuinely feels bad, Reid is one of the nicest guys out there. “You can go home, you don’t need to stick around.” He tells you, and you give him an appreciative smile, refusing to even let your eyes wander to the right.

“That’s great, Reid. Thank you, I really appreciate it,” You’re about to drop, grab your bag and run out the room like the coward you are, but Reid motions to the boys and the overwhelming urge to throw up is stronger than ever.

“I’ll just introduce you, and then I’ll send them over to Ted, you can get going.” He suggests, and you nod, sucking in a deep breath. “You’re looking quite pale actually.” Reid notes, “Poor thing,”

“Anyway,” He starts, and you force yourself to turn your body to the side, but you still can’t find the courage to look up at him. “This is Y/N, our head of media operations. She deals with all the social media, the interviews and that kind of thing. She’s great, she’s a huge part of our organization.” You give him a short smile in response, thanking him with a light tap on the arm. “Y/N, this is Joel and Josh, they’re gonna be great additions to the team.”

“Joel, and Josh...” You respond quietly, extending a hand to Joel first, forcing yourself to make eye contact. “Nice to meet you,” You say, and then you move to Josh, holding out your hand to him too, repeating your earlier words firmly. “Nice to meet you,”

It’s like your body goes cold when you look at him, he hasn’t changed one bit. He looks kind of confused, but accepts your handshake anyway, nodding with an unsure stare. He doesn’t make any move to let go, so you do it for him, pulling your hand from his grasp in a hurry while you grab your bag from behind you.

“Sorry, Reid. Thanks again, I’ll be in tomorrow.” You tell him, and then you give Josh one last look, before heading straight out of your office.

Reid looks a little bemused, but watches you leave anyways. You’re basically speed walking out of the arena, trying your hardest to make it to the parking garage in record time, because you actually feel like the air in the massive building is getting thinner.

“You forgot this.”

And just like that your heart rate spikes back up. When you don’t turn, or acknowledge him, he whispers your name and there’s a second where memories come flooding back.

Your body is nearly frozen, you don’t think you could move right now if you wanted to. Josh comes to stand in front of you, and for the first time you’re forced to look at him. Really look at him.

It’s been two years but you’d still know that expression anywhere. He’s hurt.

“You work here.” He says, almost like he’s trying to convince himself.

You bite your lips sheepishly, and you can feel your resolve starting to crumble. You can’t pretend you’re not completely overwhelmed anymore.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?”

You find the strength to nod your head, but then a second later you’re shaking it to indicate that no, you weren’t. You hadn’t decided what you were gonna do yet, you knew he was gonna find out at some point, but you also knew deep down you were never gonna be strong enough to outright introduce yourself to him this way. You were just hoping when he did find out it wouldn’t be that bad... But here you are. “I was kinda hoping I could just avoid you.” You say honestly.

He looks tense, like he’s holding back words. When he speaks he’s quiet, and you almost miss the way he scoffs quietly at your response. “Avoid me... Are we really that-,” He stops, leaving the sentence open, because he doesn’t know what word comes next. Neither do you, but you understand.

You just look at each other for a moment, and it’s now that your emotions finally get the better of you. Tears well up in your eyes, and you just shrug at him, because you have no idea what to do.

“I love this job,” You say weakly, “And I love living here, but-,”

Josh shakes his head and you stop, waiting for his interjection. “But nothing.” He starts, and then he’s moving one step closer to you, and him simply subtracting another inch shouldn’t affect you as much as it does. You feel your knees start to shake, the tears getting a little bit harder to ignore.

“This doesn’t need to be weird.” He says quietly, “I don’t want it to be-,” Once again the words are left unsaid but you nod anyway, understanding. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You nod quickly, meeting his eyes. You can’t tell if the feeling is warm or cold, but it spreads through your body like wildfire within seconds. You wonder if he feels it too, if there’s anything still here after so long. He drops your gaze and holds your jacket out for you, you take it and then offer him a small smile, “Bye, Y/N.”

And then he walks away.

••••••••••

3 weeks later

“Habs reverse retro, um absolutely, I love these jerseys I think they’re really really cool, so I’m gonna swipe right on these.” Josh says, toying with the tiny phone in his big hands.

You step in with a chuckle, waving a hand at Ted so he cuts the video. “Alright, you’re done! Perfect,” You say with a laugh, and Josh finally looks up from the phone. You share a glance with your videographer, both of you exchanging a knowing grin.

“What?” Josh says, and you shake your head with a smirk.

“Nothing,” You murmur. And Ted starts to laugh.

“The camera loves you,” He says to Josh, “Almost as much as you love it,”

He raises his eyebrows at you, “Was I not good?” The corners of his mouth turn up slightly and you just shake your head, trying to hide your wide grin.

“No, no,” You stop him, and he looks at you skeptically. Finally you shrug and say, “Just maybe next time we do one of these you could like, I don’t know look up at the camera a time or two?”

Josh starts to laugh, and he shakes his head, looking down bashfully at his feet. “This is not my thing, you know that.”

And just like that, that stupid feeling is back. Out from the center of your chest all the way to your finger tips. It’s dull this time, but it’s there. You freeze, you’re really hoping Ted didn’t catch on, because you shouldn't know that.

You change the subject before anything can come of it, and thank god Ted carries on as normal. He didn’t seem to notice, he just flips through his camera bag as usual, murmuring about Shea’s video being even worse.

You’re not gonna give this anymore time to boil though, so you turn to the culprit, “You’re uh, you’re good to go, thanks Josh.” You say, scratching at the back of your neck.

He just nods, looking worried at first, but and then half smiles before heading out the door. Once he’s out of ear shot you sigh, grabbing your bag off the chair.

“Time for a lunch break, Ted?” Cause, wow do you ever feel like you need one. “We’ll film Brendan after?”

“Sounds good,” Ted smiles.

You nod and then head for the hallway, making sure to go the opposite way Josh did. If you have to walk the whole concourse so be it.

You shouldn’t be so skittish, you know that... But things have been good the last three weeks. You’ve managed to talk without it being horribly awkward, and no one has found out about your history yet. However, you’re not going to take any chances. The longer you’re in the same room with him, the more likely someone is to slip up, like Josh almost just did. You don’t need to spend a bunch of time with him, just enough time to get your job done. So that’s what you’ve been doing, the bare minimum. Talking only if you absolutely need to.

The habs were having a great start to the season, not to mention Josh was a huge part of that. He was having the best start of his career, and you weren’t going to ruin it.

You take a seat at one of the tables in the common area, pulling your book and salad out of your bag with a huff. You would really rather a burger and fries, or something not made up of 90% water, but it was in the fridge and it was easy so you grabbed it.

You stab the fork into the lettuce, pulling it up one time before you just shake your head and leave it in the container, prodding around at it while your stomach grumbles.

You look up from your book when your name is called, Joel and of course, Josh are sitting down at a table across from you, an obscene amount of boxed food in their hands.

Your heart is thumping rapidly in your chest, and you try your best to talk through it, raising your hand in a wave, “Hi, guys.”

“What’s going on?” Joel asks, “Hungry?”

“No but you sure look it,” You lie, nodding to the boxes they’re holding.

Joel smiles giddily as they start to open them up, you just grin and then go back to poking at your salad, trying not to pay attention to how good their food smells. You try to distract yourself with your book, but yet again, that doesn’t last long.

“Hey,” You look up, eyes meeting a complete stranger this time. “I was just wondering if you could tell me where the opposing team locker room is?”

“Oh, yeah!” You say, standing from your chair to direct him down the hallway. “You’re a player?” You clarify, just to be sure, and he nods. “It’s just down the hall and to the left. Past the equipment room.”

“Okay...” He says, and you stare oddly as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Thanks,”

He has longer blonde hair, what these stupid boys would probably call a flow, and a long one at that, but he pulls it off. He’s got a nice face with a trimmed beard, and you can tell just from one look at him, swedish.

He stares at you for a moment and then chuckles uncomfortably, “I’m sorry, worst conversation starter ever.”

Your stomach knots when he says that, and you want to believe that the reason for it has nothing to do with that fact that Josh is sitting right there, watching all of this. You just smile awkwardly, “It wasn’t terrible? More the follow up that could use some work...” You joke.

“I just saw you sitting here and I thought you were really beautiful, I’m William. I play for the Oilers.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, and although this guy is really sweet all you can think about is Josh sitting right there and hearing all this, but you try your best to smile anyway, not wanting to be rude. “That’s really sweet of you, thank you.” Maybe at a different time you’d give this guy a chance, because he seems quite nice. You briefly remember seeing a name on the Oilers roster for tonight, William Lagesson.

He’s about to open his mouth again, when a whistle from behind the both of you catches your attention, you turn to see a red head with a toothy grin. “Leave that poor girl alone, Laggy.” The red head snips, and William runs a hand through his hair nervously.

You laugh, trying to make him feel better, and he chuckles with a shake of his head, mumbling an apology for his teammate. “Can I maybe just get your number?” He asks, and you try not to look as surprised as you really are.

It’s been ages since someone asked you for your number, and apparently it’s been a long time since you said no too, because you completely forget how.

Your overwhelming urge to be nice all the time fails you here, and you find yourself saying yes even though you really don’t want to. He’s sweet and all but, you’d rather not do the hockey player thing again.

At the last minute you finally have the mind to put a fake number in, and you feel bad momentarily as he smiles and says bye, but as soon as you see the empty spot at Joel’s table, you just feel panicked instead.

Josh is gone... Does that mean he didn’t hear?

You pack up your things and then stop beside Joel, he side eyes you and then makes a face and you just frown.

“Coach texted Josh, so he wasn’t lucky enough to hear that whole thing... Me on the other hand?” He takes an obnoxious bite of his food as he shoots you a wink, and all you can do is roll your eyes, and walk away. “That was hilarious!” Joel calls behind you, and you just wave him off, but really, there’s some relief setting in when you find out that Josh missed that last part.

When you arrive back at your office, there’s a note from your boss, and a box on your desk.

“Head home early today. Boys will be preparing for the game. We can finish up on Monday. -Reid” Is written in his chicken scratch on a bright pink sticky note.

You do a happy little wiggle, and then reach for the box. It smells amazing, and your stomach grumbles at the thought, but then when you open it and realize what it is, you’ve suddenly lost your appetite.

It’s pad thai and spicy yam chicken... Your favorite.

You know instantly this isn’t from Reid... There’s probably only one person in the world who knows what your order is. You used to go to that thai place by his house all the time, and you’d always order the same thing.

You don’t even put your bag down, you just leave the food on your desk and turn the light off before walking out.

You try your best not to think about everything that happened today on your way home, because it felt like a huge step back after three weeks of progress.

You stop for some groceries, and take a look in a little boutique, anything to keep your mind busy. When you arrive home you play music almost as loud as it can go, hoping it will drown out your thoughts. Over the last three weeks you’ve done enough thinking about this, you’re tired.

So you workout, shower, make some dinner, and then you sit down to watch the game, pinching yourself every time you find your eyes lingering on number seventeen a little too long.

The game is pretty slow, the boys aren’t playing their best, Edmonton is on their game and you just know they’re not gonna come out of this one with the two points, but you watch anyway. You kind of want to turn it off and switch to something else after the second period, but you give in and stick around for the third.

All is fine and normal until the five minute mark ticks down on the clock.

The camera spans to the right to follow the players going up the ice, when you hear the commentator say, “Big battle, in front of the net...”

And your heart just about stops, because you have a feeling you know exactly who it is. Guess Joel was wrong... He did hear the whole thing.

“Anderson, and Lagesson, they’re still tied up together. Anderson is hot.”

#gpp fic #liv writes #josh anderson #josh anderson imagine #montreal canadiens #montreal canadiens imagine #nhl #nhl imagines #NHL Hockey #hockey imagines

215 notes · View notes

sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

Mostrami Amore.

Summary: Cha-young tries to move on from a certain mafia boss.

Author’s Note: Thank for to everyone who sent in prompts for Chayenzo, it resulted in this mess. I don’t have much to say, I considered making this into a multi- chaptered story but honestly I don’t have time for another ongoing story so if this seems rushed it was a little, I wrote it in one go today. Hope you enjoy this, I stuck in some of my favorite crack ship because I am weak and obsessed. Happy reading!

p.s takes place after final episode but han seo lives because this is my world and I get to play God.

Another postcard.

Their delivery becomes sporadic and she’s embarrassed at the giddiness that washes over her each time a new square is sent miles across a wide stretch of ocean, the view on the card most likely lackluster in comparison to the true rendering of Malta. She has spent many hours on her laptop searching for images of the small paradisiac island, yearning to see what he sees and feel just a tad bit closer to him. Most of her life has been spent in solitude with only her work acquaintances filling the void at times, so she expected herself to be more equipped to deal with his disappearance and subsequent absence. But nothing prepares her for those moments at the coffee shop, when she finds herself smiling across a table only to realize there is no miniature espresso cup in the hand of a very dangerous Italian Korean mafia member grinning back at her.

The smile melts off her face and she swallows the bitter cool sludge in her cup, the beverage tasting exactly as he had described it without him there.

Nights are the hardest, loneliness coils around her like a snake.

There was never any other fate for them, she knew that when Vincenzo murdered all their enemies this was their only real outcome. He would always be a fugitive on the run and she an accomplice if he were captured and questioned, it was in both of their best interests if he vanished from the face of the planet. But knowing that does nothing to qualm the ever present feeling of isolation that clings to her skin as she sits alone on her couch, downing makgeolli at a vicious pace. Trying to wash his taste from her mouth, that kiss on loop in her mind and the phantom grip of his hand on her neck.

It’s those treacherous nights without the plaza members that have become a second family to her and Han Seo following her like the lost puppy he is calling her “Noona” so freely and frequently until she forgets her own name, that she allows herself to feel exactly what she’s feelings.

Heartbroken.

Desperate.

Lonely.

Rage.

The last one she hides like a dirty secret in the closet of her heart, she knew what she was signing up for. She has no legitimate reason to be angry, or so she tries to reason with herself. But. This was the same man who had bypassed the security of one of the richest men in Korea and ultimately killed him without leaving a trace. She had watched him do despicable things, blackmailing, threatening, seducing, and murdering others as he saw fit and yet, he hadn’t used any of those dastardly ways to see her. That chance meeting at the art gallery had been the last she had seen of him, Then a few weeks later another postcard with the same message she had boldly uttered at the airport, it feels insufficient after having him in her arms again. She knew in that moment that they would never be enough again. She hadn’t even argued when Mr. Nam claimed he would leave this one on his table instead, she merely nodded and walked away to peruse the new sexual assault case she has taken recently.

It gets harder and harder to hear Han Seo regaling the wonders of his “hyung”, her anger boiling deep below the surface like magma waiting to explode and transform into something tangible and destructive.

“He told me that he has a room for me too. I wonder when he’ll let us visit.”

She nods absently, staring out the window at the sunlight twinkling in through the blinds but then his words register and the gears in her head churn before running the sentence back through to carefully process them.

“He---what? You spoke to Vincenzo?”

The human puppy pouts his lips before tilting his head and dealing a hard blow to her ego and her heart, “Yeah, he sends me letters. I got so scared the first time! He said the letter would self-destruct after I read it and I really thought that was true and I dived across the room to escape but I bumped my head on the table and then...”

He sent Han Seo letters.

She had received the same fucking postcard for months on end with the same message she had said to him, and he had time to write Han Seo letters. He hadn’t sent her even one in the time he had been gone.

“That fucking bastard!” She explodes interrupting Han Seo’s recount of his near death experience and he looks wide- eyed and taken back by her outburst, she almost soothes him before another wave of anger rushes through her veins. She had accepted the bare minimum because she thought this was all he could give her but it seemed she was being too naïve. He was Vincenzo Cassano after all, he could make anything happen. She had seen it with her own two eyes. If he wasn’t reaching out to her maybe that was a message and she was too blind to see it.

“Noona? Are you okay?” Han Seo looks absolutely terrified, eyes huge and quivering. She doesn’t bother answering, grabbing her cup of lukewarm coffee and stomping out of the office ignoring Mr. Nam’s calls behind her. She’s tired of being an idiot.

She throws herself into forgetting him, the same way he seems to have forgotten her despite his words to her that fateful night on the stairs.

I thought about you everyday.

Actions speak louder than words and she is done accepting his crumbs. She has never needed anyone, had even accepted when her own father wanted nothing to do with her; she has basically been prepping for this moment her entire life.

So she goes shopping with Miri, buying gadgets that she has no idea how to use but that the other girl makes sound like things that she definitely needs such as a new home security system, her break in still fresh in her mind. She grins at the pretty smile on the other girl’s round face as she explains the specification of the machines around them and she can see why Han Seo has such a huge crush on the girl, the pretty blush that blossoms on the other girl’s cheek after stating the fact out loud is adorable and she pinches said cheek much to her chagrin.

“You should worry about your own love life.” Miri teases but the words sting like acid on her skin and she turns away to hide the grimace on her face, but she’s not fast enough and the other girl catches her wrist halting her movement.

“What? What’s wrong? Did something happen to Mr. Cassano?” Miri whispers the last part, looking around to make sure that nobody overhears them.

She forces herself to stifle her emotions, trapping them in the back of her mind refusing to let him have this kind of affect on her.

“I wouldn’t know.” She tries for a emotionless tone but even she can hear the bitterness in her own voice and Miri’s eyes fill with pity and it makes her sick to her stomach, “Don’t. I am going to be fine. Let’s just go.”

They don’t utter single word in the car ride home.

After that it becomes painfully obvious that everyone in the plaza thinks something is wrong with her and are teaming up to make her feel better. It’s the packed lunches that keep showing up on her desk without fail, her clothes being steamed and pressed for free, the way that they won’t allow her to be alone and there are countless spontaneous family game nights all ending with her drunk and being carried home.

Tonight Mr. Tak is the unlucky volunteer, dragging her limp body in her father’s house and she thinks of all the times that they drank here together and a certain person was the one hauling her body to bed complaining and grumbling but that distractingly fond smile on his face that he only ever seemed to shoot her way. Her heart thumped loudly as he loomed over her and leaned in close, getting her hopes up only to brush her hair behind her ears and softly tell her, “Go to sleep now,” and she had never been obedient all her teachers could testify to that but when he looked at her like that she was powerless to do anything else but listen.

“I miss him.” The traitorous words fall from her lips and vanish into the inky darkness of the night.

A deep sigh from the left of her, “We know.”

She feels vulnerable, the worst thing about having a weakness is other’s noticing too. She hates how weak she feels.

“I am going to forget him.”

The body supporting most of her weight tenses under her arm and she waits for his response, they all love Vincenzo- he had become their unexpected hero and leader in many ways. They would always take his side, she knows that.

“If that’s what you need to do to be happy. Then, do it. Loving a man like Vincenzo isn’t easy.”

She turns to look at him in genuine shock.

“What? You thought I would tell you to keep waiting with no end in sight? You should know by now, you mean a lot to us too. Your happiness is important to us too, we’re a family.”

“But we’re the Cassano family,” she challenges unable to accept that they could love her without Vincenzo attached, but Mr. Tak shrugs at the clarification, “We can be the Hong Family too.”

She feels her eyes swimming.

“I should go inside.”

She feels sober and more awake than ever, she stays up all night twirling the long strands of her hair in between her fingers.

Thinking.

Variety is the spice of life.

She doesn’t know where she’s heard that but it’s those sage words that are the catalyst for her spontaneous decision.

“Same as always? Silky with some body?” Her stylist peers into her eyes through the wide mirror and she hears herself say, “No I want a cut and some color.” Yu-jin raises one pretty tweezed brow but nods after a moment’s pause, “Okay. How short are you thinking?”

And that’s how she starts her day with long thick hair that grazes her lower back and ends it with a short bob that tickles her neck. It feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulder, metaphorically and literally and she loves the face that she sees in the mirror, her eyes looking brighter than they have in months. She feels more alive, like a snake shedding its skin and becoming a newer and fresher version of itself.

“Your hair?” That becomes the running theme for her day, shocked gaping mouths and hands reaching out for the hair that was once there. She merely smirks at their palpable surprise, especially Seol-jin who doesn’t recognize her from behind.

“I haven’t seen a pretty lady like you aro--Oh Ms. Hong! I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you, I am so sorry please excuse me!” The interpretative dancer bolts away leaving her to watch him bemused, she skips to Jipuragi with a pep in her step laughing loudly when Mr. Nam drops his coffee upon seeing her and the brown liquid goes flying and douses him in a sticky hot mess.

It’s an entertaining day to say the least.

Moments later when he’s finished cleaning himself up and changing into the cheetah print track suit that he insisted to keeping in the office, he mentions that a new postcard has arrived. She nods at the information, looking at her laptop and it’s only seconds later that she finally looks up and sees that he’s waiting for her response. She doesn’t have one.

Forcing a tight smile on her face she replies, “Oh that’s great. Just put it with the others.”

He does.

But she can feel his eyes on her, his concern heavy and tangible in the air.

She pretends not to notice and keeps clicking away on her laptop, only glancing over at the card once or twice. But it’s only out of habit.

Nothing more.

She starts going on dates with random men. Men she meets in coffee shops, on the streets, in bars, hell one time even the bookstore. She never meets the same man twice and they never get what they want but it does make her feel desirable and that’s all she’s looking for.

“Where are you going?” Han Seo asks her curiously, Miri by his side as she struts out the plaza new perfume on her skin.

“On a date. I’ll see you both later.” They both gape at her and can only watch with wide eyes as she sashays away, heels clicking with every step.

Word spreads like wildfire and no one takes it harder than Mr. An, who calls her a “jezebel” and cries at the front of the law firm for hours, she has to step over him to go get lunch shaking him off when he latches on to her ankles.

The others just look at her with sad eyes, filled with both understanding and disappointment.

Much to her surprise the lunch boxes keep coming and her clothes are still pressed and starched to perfection though.

She also starts taking self defense classes, Korea is much more dangerous than she had first suspected and she has to be able to protect herself because nobody is coming to save her. Not anymore.

It becomes a great outlet for her built up anger and her instructor praises her for being a fast learner. She grins and nods before flipping him and twisting his arm around his own neck in a modified sleeper hold. When he taps on her arm she squeezes tighter instead of letting go and he goes limp for a moment before she comes back to herself and releases him hastily with a quick apology, “Sorry!”

He rubs his neck, panting for air and she feels guilty, there's a tinge of that but most of all she feels powerful, more so than she has for a long time.

It’s crazy but she finds herself asking him for drinks after class and even crazier is that he agrees even with her marks still there on his skin, the area bruised and red. He looks at her like she’s challenge that he wants to conquer, she lets him believe that’s possible. It’s only a bit of fun anyway, she has no plans for anything serious.

Drinks turn into a drunken cab ride home with his hand on her thigh, hot through the thin material of her tights and they don’t feel right- too small and not rough enough but she’s moving on and she has no time to reminisce.

There hasn’t even been a postcard lately. Message, loud and clear.

When she shoves the keys into her door, he’s glued to her body leaving wet kisses on the long column of her neck and she tries to suppress the nausea that swims in her stomach, everything feels wrong and she hates herself for feeling that way. Why shouldn’t she fuck whoever she wants? He is probably doing the same thing, everyday on his beautiful private island. Kissing women that aren’t her and whispering dirty Italian words into their ears as he rocks back and forth, nary a thought of that Korean woman he knew once upon a time.

Fuck him.

She rocks back into the purposeful grind of the hips behind her, feeling the hardness that digs into the soft flesh of her ass and finally the door opens and they both tumble in haphazardly and he thrusts a hand under her loose shirt fingering at her breasts before a dark figure moves far too quickly in her peripheral and she hears her date cry out in pain.

She almost faints at the familiar sight of the one person she never expected to see, the hard glint of his cold eyes as he twists the same hand that had just been fondling her chest. The grip looks painful, the wrist contorted in an unnatural manner.

“What the fuck? You have a boyfriend?!” Her instructor cries out, voice high pitched falling to his knees as Vincenzo kicks his feet out from under him.

She rolls her eyes, of course he would come now when she is trying (and failing) to get over him.

Vindictively she answers the question, ‘No.”

But that makes Vincenzo twist the wrist in his grip even tighter and she can see the bones breaking so she takes pity on the poor man, he didn’t sign up for a murderous mafia leader after all.

“Just let him go. You have no right to do any of this.”

He doesn’t listen right away and absently she wonders if she’ll need to test out her new moves on him, it would be satisfying to deck him square in the face. She dreams of that as often as she dreams of their reunion. Her feelings are...complicated to say the least.

Then with a grunt, he throws the other man away like he’s trash and growls out, “Get out of here before I kill you.”

She tries not be get turned on by that. But it’s a hard sell, her body already getting revved up. He’s telling the truth.

The man wastes no time, jumping to his feet and bolting out the door without one backwards glance. Asshole, he was really just leaving her with a clearly unstable and dangerous man.

“We need to talk.” Vincenzo squeezes out between clenched teeth, and her blood runs cold but she stares him dead in the eyes tired of this game they’ve been playing, if he’s here to end things she wants to know.

“Okay. Then talk.”

She looks insanely beautiful, with her hair cropped so short bringing his eyes to the tantalizing length of her neck. His eyes close in on a spot of moisture on her neck, he feels his blood boiling imagining that bastard touching any part of her. She’s glaring right back at him, her chest rising and falling and he can’t help but check her out, it’s been months since he saw her in person the photo of her doing aerial yoga above his bed couldn’t compare to the tempest that is Cha-young in real life.

The flat plane of her belly is on display under the white crop top loosely stretched across her chest which leads down to her slim hips and legs wrapped in white spandex, leaving very little to the imagination not that he hasn’t imagined her in far less many, many times. Too many times to count. Spilling across the silk adorning his king sized bed with only her name on his lips.

She looks fucking hot.

That makes it even more frustrating because he can still clearly see that bastard wrapped around her like a snake and his hands going up her shirt---he has to take a deep breath before he breaks something. Or chases that asshole to break his face.

There’s so much he wants to say to her, so much he owes her.

I missed you.

I love you.

Come with me.

“Who the hell was that?” He says this instead then watches her eyes glint over into nothing but pure murderous rage. Wrong move. But he couldn’t help it, green eyed raged taking away his decision making abilities.

“That’s all you have to say? Get out.”

He wasn’t expecting rose petals and trumpets when he returned but he definitely wasn’t expecting this, her cold glare or another man in his spot. He thought she would wait for him, just as he had done for her.

“Are you serious right now?” He counters, flabbergasted.

“Deadly. Get out.”

He clenches his fist, and then stomps out. Turning back but only to watch the door slam in his face.

What the hell.

It had only taken a letter from Han Seo to get him on boat that would take him to an open field and hours later he was soaring through the skies on a hot air balloon, on his way back to Korea. It was insane and he barely had time to explain to his family but Luca nodded at him like this was the only choice and told him that he would take care of everything, and he trusted those words more than he had ever trusted anything in his life.

“Vai a prendere la tua donna( go get your woman).”

He had nodded, gruffly patting the other man on his shoulder before hopping over into the waiting boat.

But he wasn’t so certain anymore that Cha-young was his.

She seems different. Colder almost, she leaves whenever I mention your name and she goes on dates now. I think she’s moving on hyung, what are you going to do?

Those words had been the scariest thing he had never seen. Scarier than every gun that had ever been pointed at his head. He thought what they had was something special, something that could stand the test of time and distance. He stared at the huge pile of letters on his bedside, all addressed to her. He had written one everyday since they had been separated, but each time he was too much of a coward to send it. In those letters he could say things that he could never say to her face, things like how much he ached without her by his side and how her smile was the only thing that kept him going. In those letters he could regal the ways he loved her, and how deeply she had been branded into his soul, every atom of his body belonged to her and her alone. He would kill for her, die for her, anything she needed or merely wanted he would provide it, all she needed to do was ask.

He could only share those feelings in the letters.

He walks for hours, until he ends up at his old apartment the familiar door greeting him and he sticks his hand in his pocket before he remembers that he gave the key away, with a sigh he starts to walk away before the door creaks open and he hears a voice he hasn’t heard in months.

“Hyung!”

A warmth spreads across his back as a solid weight almost knocks him off his feet. He reaches one arm around his body, awkwardly slapping the face that is pressing into his collar.

“You really chose to stay here.”

He feels the nod on his shoulder, “Of course. It made me feel closer to you hyung, I missed you.”

He grunts in response, before turning around and tugging the younger man into a real hug. He had missed the annoying little leech too, he had missed everyone.

They are still in each other’s embrace for a moment before Han Seo pulls away, sympathy etched deep on his face.

“She wasn’t happy to see you.”

“There was someone else there.” He hates the words even as they leave his mouth and Han Seo winces, looking pained for him before tugging him into the small apartment. Everything is just like he left it. He looks around in awe.

“I’m sorry hyung. What are you going to do?”

That’s the golden question, he pondered it all the way here and he’s no closer to knowing the answer to that. Usually she is the one that makes the move, she has always been the brave one between them. He back steps and says things he doesn’t mean and she sees through him and smashes down all his walls. That’s how this has always worked.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should just leave her alone. Let her be happy.”

A loud scoff reaches his ears, “Sure. Is that why you sailed across sharked infested waters and trusted a hot air balloon company run my former thugs?”

He smarts at the sarcastic reply and glares before flicking the cheeky brat on his nose, "I liked you better when you were stupid you know. Now you're a little smart ass."

The younger man looks even more youthful as he grins back at him, rubbing at his nose before shrugging. "I learned from the best."

He has no rebuttal for that so he tries to flick him again, giving chase when he darts off.

It feels good to be home.

He warns Han Seo not to tell anyone that he's here least they give away his location.

So he's not surprised the next day to find the cavalry at his doorstep hands filled to the brim with containers of food. There are tears, mostly from Mr. Nam who won't stop screaming his name and pinching his cheeks to see if he's real and Mr. An who wraps around him like a koala despite his very detailed threats. It's all chaos and so familiar that his heart aches but her absence is like a hole in his chest. Nobody mentions her but they all keep looking at the door, so it's obvious that she was invited but chose not to come.

Because she didn't want to see him.

"You're here to win her back right?" He doesn't know who even utters the words but when he glances up they are all looking at him expectantly.

He didn't know that was what he was indeed here for thought that she would happily welcome him back and they could pick up where they left off but she's made it clear that this won't be the case. This will be the most important fight of his life.

"Yes. I'm here for Cha-young."

He gets enthusiastic thumbs up and a loud giggle from the Yeon-Jin and Cheol-Wook’s adorable baby, her little hands too uncoordinated to do a thumbs up but she waves excitedly feeding off the energy around her.

He wonders how Cha-young would look with a baby in her arms, their baby it's a dangerous thought. But one that he can't get out of his mind once he thinks it.

They stay until midnight, forcing him to eat and drink too much soju until he passes out to dreams filled with a round Cha-young, belly swollen and protruding from her body.

It doesn't take much to learn her schedule(Mr. Nam hands him a laminated copy) and he has to put on a disguise but he enters the shop seconds after her, hearing her order that god awful sewer water she's so fond of.

"An espresso for me." He leans in too close, almost brushing her shoulder and she jolts at the sound of his voice, turning to stare at him as if she's a mirage.

"You're still here?" She whispers and then shakes her head and looks away as if she's hadn't meant to say the words aloud.

It hurts him that she thought he would leave without telling her but he can't blame her, he has been anything but consistent. Instead of answering, he leans forward to hand his credit card to the cashier who glances between them suspiciously before accepting the card.

Their orders are ready in seconds and he follows her as she walks to their table, butterflies in his stomach at the familiar sight.

She turns to him with a glare, "It's just the only available table."

He moves to pull out her chair and she starts at him tight lipped before sitting down. She's in a tight black suit today, two long slits on the side of her pants going all the way up to her thighs. He gulps down his drink to get rid of the drool pooling in his mouth.

"You're upset with me."

She stares at him like he's the biggest idiot on the planet, it's not a look he receives often but she's always the outlier in his otherwise organized life.

"Astute observation." She quips back, sucking loudly at her coffee.

"Why?"

He considered how to go about breeching this subject and in the end had decided on going straight to the source, he had been under the impression that this was working for them.

Her face morphs into a person he hasn't seen for a long time, the Cha-young that would berate him and make him angry enough to curse in Italian.

"Do you think this little of me?"

He's completely lost, "What do you mean? What did I do that was so wrong? Wrong enough for you to cheat on me!" He's panting now, his voice has gotten loud enough to catch people's attention he can feel them watching their table, nosy and invested.

"Cheat on you?"

Cold as ice, her voice is. It almost makes him shiver.

"How could I possibly cheat on you? We're not together. You send me the same postcard with the same message every few months. I have no idea what you're doing in Malta, who you're with. You can't even be bothered to send me a letter, do you think this is a relationship? You think it's enough to pop up like this every once in a blue moon? You've told me nothing about how you feel about me but I'm supposed to be satisfied with whatever you throw my way?"

If he wasn't sitting down his legs would have already given out he's certain about that. Her voice is deadly quiet each word landing and chipping away at his confidence.

"I'm doing the best I can! You knew it would be like this after everything was over, why are you blaming me now? How about you, I don't know how you feel either!"

"I love you! Anyone with eyes can see that, I told you that at the airport too. And again when I took a bullet for you, you didn't think that meant I loved you? I was willing to die for you."

Shit.

It's not at all how he expected them to confess their love for each other, it's hard to believe the words that are coming out of her mouth as she bares her teeth at him.

"So why are you doing this? Why are there other men?"

Why aren't I enough? He wants to say but he's scared of her answer, terrified that she'll say that she can't do this anymore. That he just isn’t enough anymore.

She stares at him long and hard.

Waiting for something. But he doesn't know what.

"You haven't changed at all. You're still a coward, I'm not interested in guessing anymore. I’m done playing this game.”

She stands up and walks away, leaving her unfinished coffee on the table.

Unwanted just like him.

She doesn't see him for days and she accepts that her words had done their damage, she had cried until she fell asleep that night. Waking up with swollen red eyes that no amount of concealer would save but thankfully no one commented on her state.

She goes through her day on autopilot and before she knows it she's back home, ready to face her night alone again. She pushes the door open, half praying he'll be waiting for her but her hopes shattered when she turns on the lights and finds no one.

"It's better this way." She lies to herself, pouring herself an obscene glass of soju. She's going to need plenty of alcohol to get through this pain.

Her head is woozy and heavy when she hears a sound, suddenly alert she stills in her chair before rushing over to get a frying pan walking on the tips of her toes she prowls closer to the clicking sound, finding herself at the window peering at a long lost friend. Placing the frying pan on her window sill she pry opens the window, screeching when the audacious bird flies inside landing on her table as if he belongs there.

"Hey Inzaghi! Get your dirty bird feet off my table!"

He looks at her nonchalantly, making himself comfortable on said table and she sighs before shutting the window and drunkenly swaying over to him.

"What are you even doing there? Do you want to be my bird now, I won't be a very good owner. I won't remember to feed you. I barely remember to feed myself."

Despite being a bird he finds a way to roll his eyes at her before standing up and only then does she notice something on his leg. She looks at him cautiously before moving closer and untying the paper on his leg, the pigeon barely reacts before flying over to her couch. She sighs in annoyance, she's going to have to clean everything after this bird leaves.

She unwinds the string holding the paper together, unrolling the paper scroll. There is a message written inside: the rooftop. 9 pm.

Glancing at her clock the time shines at her.

7:34pm.

"This could be a trap."

It very much could be, she has enemies now. It was a small price to pay for taking down Babel but she's always looking over her shoulders now, so this note could easily be someone luring her to hurt her or get back at Vincenzo.

Inzaghi coos loudly at her as if he can hear her thoughts. This time he finds a way to look exasperated.

She stumbles off to her room.

She needs time to think.

"So she told you that she loved you and you didn't say it back?"

"I was shocked. She was growling at me and looked ready to kill me at the same time." He reasons back, trying to show his hyung his point of view. The younger man doesn't look even a little bit convinced by his logic.

"Okay and? That sounds perfectly normal for you too. You should have shot someone and wrote it back in their blood on the table."

He recoils in disgust at the suggestion, "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you actually insane, why the fuck would I do that?"

Han Seo stares deadpan in return.

He puts up a hand trying to stop whatever response he has, "Don't say it."

It doesn't work.

"Pig's blood. Don't forget I saw it all, I've never seen Ms. Hong look so excited before. You're both crazy."

Well, that had been different. It was an old tradition, she simply had an appreciation for the classics.

"And I bet you're defending her right now in your mind. Noona is just like you, that's why you're made for each other. She's the gasoline to your fire."

"You know that would just make an even larger fire right?"

"Yes. I'm smart now remember? I know what I said."

He sighs falling into the comfortable familiarity of the couch, a spring digging into his thigh.

"Why didn't you say it back?" His stills at the barely whispered question, his chest constricting as he recalls the passionate confession. He had frozen, like he'd always known she was the brave one between them. Always doing the unexpected and the time was no different, her words had knocked him off his feet.

"Because I was scared."

Han Seo huffs at his honesty. He doesn't know where the words are coming from but he's tired of keeping it all in.

"Because if anything happens to her it'll break me, I thought it would be better if I kept her at a distance. I thought this was enough. I thought this would be easier. When I think about her I want to drop everything and just be with her and that...was too dangerous. I had to keep my distance."

There's a pregnant pause, just the sound of their breathing filling the void.

"Was it?"

"What?"

"Easier. Is this better? Enough?"

He thinks about Cha-young getting married to a faceless man, exchanging vows and sealing it with a kiss, happy and in love on their honeymoon wanton moans and screams from their room, learning that they're having a baby and her round and glowing with someone else's child smiling brightly as she rubs her belly and it's too much. He wants to smash it all into little pieces.

"No. It's not enough. I need her, without her nothing is enough."

"That's what you should have said to her. Don't glare at me I'm right, but I have an idea. I saw it in an American cartoon."

And that's how he lets his younger brother convince him to send a note to Cha-young using Inzaghi, the pigeon had shown up one night and he'd been so happy he almost kissed the bird.

"How will he know where Cha Young lives?" He asks skeptical even as he ties the note to the birds leg.

"I showed him a picture of her house. According to the cartoon, birds just know.”

He stares at the younger man, wondering why he's listening to this ridiculous plan.

"This is stupid. I should just text her, Inzaghi is never going to deliver this. He's just a regular pigeon."

"This is more romantic." He answers matter of fact.

"How is a pigeon delivering a message in anyway romantic?" He challenges already knowing from the shit eating grin he won’t like the response.

"The same way pig blood was." The brat counters and he doesn't get a chance to respond before Han Seo picks Inzaghi up and throws him out the window, "In the name of love!" He only barely stops himself from bashing his head into the wall, the younger man has to wrestle him to the ground.

It's stupid. They did all of this for nothing the cool breeze makes him pull his coat tighter around his body, exposed to the weather on the open space of the rooftop.

He checks his watch, 9:48.

She's not coming and the worst part is that he doesn't know if it's because that damn bird never delivered his message or if it's because she really doesn't want anything to do with him. The burden of not knowing hurts more than anything.

Expelling the air in his lungs he walks back to the single door that leads off the roof, twisting the doorknob in his hand and pulling it open.

Meeting the shocked face of one Cha-young.

They both just stare at each other before he speaks, "You came."

He can't believe it. Inzaghi had actually delivered the note, somehow the pigeon had found her house and she was here. He almost pinches himself to see if he'd passed out on the roof and this was just a dream.

"I didn't know Inzaghi was a carrier pigeon." She futilely tries to change the subject and he takes a step back, gathering the tattered pieces of his courage. The same courage that had propelled him to kiss her all those months ago on the stairs.

"I'm so happy you're here. I waited for you."

She stares at him like he has two heads before blushing, and avoiding his eyes.

"Come with me." He extends his hands and tries not to be too hurt when she bypasses it and steps around him instead.

At least she was here.

With a quick swipe of his hand he sends the message to his accomplices.

Now.

The lights come on, fairy lights decorating the roof top in a heavenly glow. She spins around in wonder, eyes nearly as bright she's so beautiful it's almost painful to look at her.

Then the music starts.

The soft notes filling the space.

When I walk down a road I don't know well....

She looks around in wonder, staring back at him she can’t believe what’s happening.

Then the letters start falling from the sky, all the letters he had written to her alone and missing her thousands of miles away. His plaza family smiles down at him, throwing letters from a higher building.

Cha-young stares up at the sky in surprise, hundreds of letters landing all around her.

It had taken a few days for Luca to send them all over and then another day to get the guts to do this, there was no turning back now. He had never willingly made himself vulnerable to anyone else, but according to Han Seo it was the only way he was going to win her back.

“She just wants to know that you love her too. Show her.”

He watches anxiously as she picks up a letter, stroking lightly at her own name on the front looking at him with stunned wet eyes.

“You wrote me a letter.” Her voice is revere and awe that he doesn’t deserve, not after everything he has put her through in the sake of protecting himself but he’s too elated to see her looking at him like that again, like he’s someone important to her.

“182. For each day we were apart. I told you I thought about you everyday, and every time I did I wrote you a letter.”

She stares at the letter in her hand, gently ripping it open and devouring the words on the page. Nerves shoot up and down his body as he watches her read his most private thoughts about her, her expressive face for once empty of emotions as she silently reads the letter.

He waits.

Breathless and terrified.

“Why didn’t you ever send them? They were mine so why did you keep them?” He hears an edge in her voice that makes him wonder if she’s only talking about the letters.

“Cha-young, I don’t think you understand.”

She breathes out loudly, stomping over to him until they are inches apart and he has no choice but to look into the deep pool of her eyes.

“I don’t! I don’t understand anything, I thought you had found someone else in Malta and the postcards were just your way of being nice. I thought you didn’t feel the same way I did, you were sending Han Seo letters but you wouldn’t do the same for me. What was I supposed to think? Why didn’t you try to help me understand, you were gone for six months!”

There’s so much wrong with everything she said, how could he find anyone else when his heart beats for her? How could he forget her when everything he did reminded him of her, he saw her every night in his dreams. But he doesn’t make the same mistake this time, he says what’s important.

“I feel the same way. I love you Cha-young. I thought this was better for you, that this could be enough. But I was wrong, I missed you every minute of every--”

“Come home with me.”

He stops, stares, gapes and then stares some more.

“What? I wasn’t finished confessing though.” Actually offended that she interrupted his planned speech. He was about to recite one of his favorite Italian love poems for her and then ask her to dance.

She rolls her eyes dragging him towards the door, “Don’t you think we’ve wasted enough time? It’s been six months and you have been here for too long, you have to go soon.”

She’s right, he has a flight in two days for an identity he borrowed for his escape.

“Listen to her, just go back to her place and have a good night!” That sounds like Cheol-Wook and then they all erupt into applause and start cheering and hollering, chanting their names and then to his embarrassment they start chanting, “Go have sex! Go have sex!” complete with the monks banging on their drums and he doesn’t think he will ever live down this moment, especially when he sees Miri capturing it on the new video camera he had gifted her.

He flips them off as an eager Cha-young pulls him away their laughter following them all the way.

The car ride is too long on the way over and she wonders how quickly she can undress them both as soon as they reach, there is simply no time to waste.

But once they get to the doorstep he suddenly freezes, tugging her backwards into his chest.

“This looks familiar doesn’t it?” His voice is dark and smoky and she immediately knows what he’s referring to, and she refuses to give him any reaction.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?”

“You let someone else touch you. Here.” He runs a hand up her neck, briefly squeezing, “And here,” she gasps at his hands suddenly on her breast, squeezing harshly at the tender flesh.

“So what are you going to do about it?” She knows that she’s playing with fire, but that is their foundation. She has never aimed to cool him off or tone him down, she sees the dark side inside of him and loves it, encourages it and feeds on it herself allowing it to bring her darkness out too.

He kicks the door open, shoving her side and she delights at the rough treatment. She hopes that she is filled with his bruises tomorrow.

She doesn’t wait for his next move, pulling her shirt up and over her head before tugging off her skirt leaving herself in a barely there lace panties and a matching lace bra that is translucent, her nipples peeking through the sheer material. He stares at her transfixed, his hunger evident in his eyes and in the tent forming in his tight dress pants.

“Take those off.” She commands and he smirks before obeying, peeling the pants off his thighs standing in his button down shirt and tight boxer briefs that leave nothing to her imagination, every delicious inch of him visible. She steps forward bringing their bodies in contact, before thrusting her hand inside the opening of his briefs. He feels hard and smooth, liquid pooling at the tip and she twists her hand collecting it to ease her slow strokes up and down. His voice hitches as she fingers his balls and without warning she tugs his boxers off, leaving him bare to her eyes.

Mesmerized by the unencumbered sight of him, she drops to her knees using her hand to guide him to her eagerly waiting mouth.

His flavor explodes on her tongue and she swallows more, grabbing his hips to drag him deeper into her mouth until she can feel him in her throat, but even after her eyes start to burn and she feels herself choking she doesn’t stop, bobbing up and down hungrily, sloppy wet sounds filling the room in a filthy symphony. At first he lets her control the movement, pliant in her hands but as she increases her speed and suction he starts groaning and huffing loudly and then she feels his hand on the back of her hand, keeping her in place and when she looks up at him he looks wrecked. Eyes dazed and his face red and flushed, she ingrains that image in her mind, for when he’s gone and all she has are her toys.

She stares back defiantly before he draws himself out of her mouth, a single line of spit connecting them and then he thrusts back into her mouth roughly and she opens her mouth wider to accept the abuse, loving every second of it even as a her throat aches. He sets a frantic pace, his balls slamming against her chin and she doesn’t realize at first that his grunts have transformed into words, too much blood rushing to her head.

“Mine. Mine, nobody can---ah fuck! Nobody can see you like this. Only me. You’re mine.”

He fucks her mouth like it’s his to use and do what he pleases, and she’s wetter than she’s ever been listening to him claim her verbally and with the wet push of his dick in her mouth.

She starts grinding on the floor like a cat in heat and without preamble he grabs her under her armpits and lifts her like she weighs nothing, his dick sliding free from her hot mouth, “I want to make you scream.” He says this like a declaration of love and she throws herself at him, kissing the words off his lips. His tongue swirls in her mouth and she wonders if he can taste himself in her. It makes her hotter and she grinds her barely covered pussy onto his naked length, groaning at the friction even though the thin layer separating them.

He tosses her onto the bed and she doesn’t even remember them walking, his tongue and his wondering fingers had completely distracted her.

She lays sprawled across the bed as he stares at her, like she’s feast he can’t wait to devour.

“Nobody has been in here.” She doesn’t know if he’s asking a question or making a statement, but she feels that his jealousy is real. Seeing her with someone else had done something to him, guilt washes over her. If she had seen him with someone else she would have lost her mind too.

“Nobody. I never brought anyone home before, that guy was a mistake. I was just hurt and missing you. I’m sorry.”

He had abandoned her for six months and she didn’t owe him anything but his pain is her pain and they are stronger now, everything has been said.

“Good.”

Then he rips her panties away and buries his face between her legs, prying her wide open with his hands and lapping at her with his searing hot tongue. Immediately he has his wish and she screams, loud enough to fill the entire room.

“Already screaming amore? It’s going to be a long night, I want to make you hoarse.”

She doesn’t get a moment to respond before he’s back to licking and sucking at her most sacred part, fingers deep inside her as he thrusts and strokes alongside his tongue, his fingers and tongue moving in tandem and she tries to stifle the scream but a particularly deep fuck makes the sound erupt from her throat and her head feels dizzy from the overwhelming sensation.

He has boundless energy it seems, as time drags by and she feels her body tightening up as he systemically destroys her, he never takes a break or pauses, slurping up all the liquid that drips from her and the sounds of him swallowing are beyond erotic. When a hand runs up her stomach and squeezes at a bouncing breast she can’t contain her moans of pleasure, crying out as his fingers pinching the tight bud of her nipple.

“Please.”

He coos in her, “So pretty when you beg.” Then he sticks his tongue as far as it can go and she hears the rush of blood in her head as her body shakes apart and her release gushes from her body, twitching when he laps it all up her oversensitive body recoiling from the overstimulation.

She has never come like that before, most men have never put in the work necessary to make her come and she wasn’t one to fake it so her experiences with sex with someone else were few and far in between.

This feels like nirvana.

“You still with me amore?” The bastard looks so smug, looming above her naked arms on the side of her head, and she had no idea when he took his shirt off.

“I can’t feel like my legs.”

He chuckles loudly at the statement, grinning growing wider.

“Well I can assure you that they’re still there and they will look great wrapped around my waist.”

Raising to his challenge, although her body is still buzzing she wraps her legs around his waist, they feel like jelly but she finds the strength to follow through with her movement.

“I was right they do look great.”

“Well this would look great in me.” She counters, grabbing at his thick ruddy red dick jutting from his body and he rocks into her hand before knocking her hand away and taking himself in his hand.

“Do we need a condom?” He asks her, looking like he is ready to stop at nay minute if she tells him that they do.

“No.”

She has been on birth control since she was a teen and there’s been no one for her since she met him, and she trusts that it’s been the same for him.

“Thank goodness, I want to feel everything.” He barely finishes his sentence before he’s easing into her, slow and steady. She lets him continue for a moment before she tightens her legs around his waist and pulls him in roughly, as deep as she can get him in this position. “Fuck, you’re so impatient.”

“Shut up and fuck me already.”

He grumbles at her calling her bossy, but she sighs when he draws out and slams back in with a quick snap of his hips.

“Yes just like that!”

He takes direction very well, repeating the motion until the bed starts to creak from their movements, he pistons in and out of her gone all semblance of gentle or slow, they have teetered into a speed that can only be defined as “break neck” and she feels her body sliding up the mattress as he pounds into her over and over again, she latches onto his neck eager to leave a branding mark on him and he groans at the suction, grinding harder into her and gripping her ass to force her to meet his vicious thrusts.

Absently she feels him peeling her bra from her body, the only remaining item of clothing that has survived their coupling and she knows exactly when he sees the scar. The grotesque knitting of skin that had left a permanent scar on her shoulder, she almost covers it up but when she peels her eyes open he is staring at her mesmerized.

“Don’t look.”

He leans down to kiss it, the softest more precious kiss she has ever received in her life.

He peppers more kisses all over, then strokes at it with a single finger.

“I should have realized, this was your confession. I was an idiot. I will never be that stupid again, I love you so much. I would do anything for you. Anything.”

He puts her legs on her shoulder, nearly bending her in half before resuming his thrusts but they are less frenzied now, it feels like lovemaking. Her eyes prickle when he kisses her scar with every downward thrust, whispering, “Beautiful, so beautiful. Every inch of you.”

She cries out.

With every thrust he kisses her scar, making her feel lightheaded and naked.

When he moves them into a new position, her back to his front giving him better access to her scar, she loses herself as he whispers sweet nothings into her ears and litters the spot with warm kisses.

She falls off the edge with his lips on her scar and him deep inside her, warm bursts filling her up before leaking out onto the bed sheets.

“Today’s our last day.”

Waking up next to him is torture, she tries not to ingrain that in her mind but it’s too late it’s already there. He blinks away the sleep in his eyes at her words and then nods solemnly in agreement.

“Yes for this visit. But I’ll always come back for you.”

She smiles brightly, “Don’t keep me waiting for too long.”

They don’t leave the bed except to get breakfast and that ends with her laid across the kitchen table getting taken from behind after teasing him. He can’t seem to keep his hands off her new hair, twisting the short strands in his hands and yanking on them. She catches him looking at her heatedly more than once.

Then they wind up in the shower, trying to clean up and getting dirtier instead, his hands tight in her hair and around her waist as he hoists her up to pound her into the wall. Making up for lost time.

They get messages from their entire family, Vincenzo showing her a message from Han Seo asking if he’s going to be an uncle soon. She promises to embarrass him in front of Miri very, very soon.

Both pretend they don’t feel the day fading away, bringing them closer to their goodbye.

Tomorrow he will be gone again, but there’s no guessing now. She knows what she means to him now and that’s more than enough.

She wakes up to an empty bed and a ticket to Malta, the ball is in her court.

#vincenzo #chayenzo #smut #but you know with feelings #romance isn't dead #you can find it in strange places #like pig's blood #han seo has the best wingman #the mafia family

116 notes · View notes

grittyreadsfic · 3 years

Text

hello my friends, one singular person asked for this weeks ago so i’m here with my most unhinged rec list yet: tk and nolan.

now, this one was hard to reign in, so i really didn’t. this pairing had maybe 230 fics in the tag when i first started reading hockey fic, and it’s now over 900, and i’ve read far too many of them, and that makes it so hard to parse it down. so i just...didn't!

so with that said, please enjoy so you want to get into tknp: a beginners guide to a classic case of idiots to lovers

i told myself that i couldn’t rec an author’s entire body of work but then i remembered this is my blog and i do what i want, so i did some consolidating. here’s a list of the quintessential authors for this pairing, you can start at any of their profiles and pick any of their fics at random, and it’ll be one of the best ones for the pairing, hands down.

therainbowsedge: i’d start with the summer camp fic, or the sex toys one, as both beautifully capture the true idiots to lovers nature of this pairing, but just top tier writing all around

manybumblebees: the wedding fic is so tender and port stanley is a classic, but literally pick any single fic and you’ll have a perfect tknp fic. i’m not kidding

jamesvanriemsdick: their tknp fics in their series are some of the hidden gems of this pairing (the tk heartbeat fic makes me LOSE it) but the delaware fic or the seattle fic…..there’s really something for every mood

catchascatchcan: start with era of gods because i could write literal essays on how it’s some of the best fantasy worldbuilding i’ve ever read, but then just read everything else on their account, including non tknp fics. you won’t regret it

hackysack: ao3 user hackysack has written one of two timeloop fics that i absolutely adore, and i thought about just calling that one out in particular, but all of their work deserves the attention

canary: nothing to prove was the first tknp fic i ever read and i was immediately hooked. all of their fics are a good starting place for the pairing, and just really give you a feeling for the pairing

and now, for the fic recs!

to be, despite it all by smudgedfreckles

summary: or, nolan patrick’s gender thesis, by travis konecny.

why i love it: there’s not a lot ofo nonbinary characters in media, even in fic, but this fic’s treatment of nolan and their path to figuring out their gender just feels so real and made me feel so seen. tk’s characterization is also just top notch, and it’s just a super sweet story about two people who love each other

last ones standing by makeit_takeit

summary: If you’re committed to finding your future spouse, reads the last line of the ad, and are ready to look at yourself and your love life in a whole new way, apply now.

At the bottom of the ad there’s a link, and Travis finds his finger hovering over the screen, lip still caught between his teeth.

“I mean,” he says very reasonably, speaking out loud to his empty apartment like some sort of possibly-crazy person, “just applying doesn’t mean anything. Maybe I just fill it out, and see what happens. It’s not like I’m really gonna get picked to be on TV, come on.”

He snorts out loud, just to show his apartment he hasn’t lost his grip on reality or anything; he fully understands how ludicrous that would be.

Then he clicks the link anyway, because yolo or whatever.

why i love it: what part of a married at first sight fic doesn’t make you want to immediately dive right in? the concept is fun, the execution is absolutely flawless, and it captures their dynamic so well while letting it develop naturally

motivation by connectknee

summary: Kevin knows when to back off, the article said. He knows just when to shut up and leave Patty alone, something Travis has never known how to do.

why i love it: the thing i love about this pairing is that tk is loud and in your face, and nolan’s more reserved, a little quieter, a little harder to read. this fic does a really great job of exploring how tk could feel like maybe he’s just a bit too much and is one of my favorites in terms of miscommunication

a tenderness grows by rusesdeguerre

summary: Nolan wouldn’t say that landing a job as the Philadelphia Flyers’ psychotic and probably clinically insane mascot was a childhood dream of his. Maybe tangentially: playing pond hockey in –30°C weather and pretending to be Sidney Crosby is practically a rite of passage when you grow up in Manitoba. That, and experiencing the distinct displeasure that is thousands of mosquitoes sucking your blood out when your father drags you on a father-son camping trip into the backwoods of the northern Canadian Prairies.

why i love it: this was the first fic i recced on this blog, and i stand by that decision. a fic where nolan is not only not a hockey player, but is in fact the person in the gritty suit? absolutely perfect, and so charming from start to finish

meet me at my window by springsteen

summary: Travis has lived in Philadelphia for a few years now, long enough to know there isn’t a major city in America where superheroes don’t destroy an entire city block trying to save humanity or whatever. He can deal with all the super-shit, but Travis did not sign up for getting woken up from a deep sleep because some fucker’s trying to break in through his window.

(5 times the super-villain known as "The Cat" breaks into Travis's apartment, plus 1 time Travis invites him in.)

why i love it: there’s a lot of things to love here, but the concept is just absolutely one of my all time favorite aus ever. it’s fun and charming and the perfect glimpse into a world where heroes and villains exist, and what it’s like just to be a run of the mill kind of guy existing in it. tk and nolan’s back and forth in this make it so engaging, and it’s such a top tier fic

body’s in trouble by cloudsandpassingevents

summary: “Oh, sorry,” someone says. “Didn’t know anyone else was here.”

Nolan freezes, then turns around very slowly. When he looks up, Nicklas fucking Backstrom is standing behind him in a hoodie and baggy sweats, holding the biggest bag of Swedish Fish Nolan’s ever seen in his life in one hand.

“Uh,” Nolan says around the pop tart between his teeth. “Yeah.”

What the fuck, his brain helpfully supplies.

why i love it: from nolan’s inner voice, to the way the author explores all the dynamics within the team, to the way they write the unexpected but actually, it kind of makes sense friendship between nolan and backstrom, is just absolutely fantastic. there’s a lot of moments that circle back and build on each other in a way that really just makes it super compelling

rhizomatic foundations by lighthousetowers

summary: Twenty days after he moves in with Kevin Hayes, twenty days – three months, five months, depending on how you look at it – after not talking to TK, TK shows up at the front door with a plant the size of a basketball in his hands.

TK grins. "Patty, meet Reginald." He lifts up the plant. "Reggie, meet Patty. He's going to be your new - caretaker."

"What the fuck," says Nolan, not moving a single muscle.

Or: That Nolan can hear the plant talk might as well just happen.

why i love it: this is probably my favorite magical realism fic just about ever. it’s fun and charming and a little weird, but in the best possible way. there’s such a wonderful narrative in it, and lighthousetowers always has such beautiful writing, and it really shines in this one. the dialogue and nolan’s characterization are also part of what set it apart for me as one of the best tknp fics

in the dark of any town by mengetpegged

summary: If the voice has an accent at all, it’s a flat prairie Canadian, with none of G’s French-Canadian softness at the edges. But mostly, the accent is just ‘pissed off,’ which TK believes is a default setting for ghosts.

“Who are you?” TK asks, and he doesn’t like how strained his voice sounds, doesn’t like the tinge of anxiety tinting the rise of his question. He tries to regulate his breaths—in through his nose, hold, out through his mouth—but it feels like he’s not getting enough oxygen, which makes him panic even more.

“Someone with a fucking migraine, dickhead,” the voice says. “So keep the lights off and shut the hell up.”

(or: Nolan Patrick, Hotel X Ghost)

why i love it: i’m usually not super into ghost fics, both the spooky kind and the nonspooky kind, but this one is a rare exception. it’s charming and fun and tender and it’s got some of, in my opinion, the best characterization of tk and nolan in any fic. the way the author writes their dynamic and their dialogue is just unmatched

lets_make_this_moment_a_crime.mp3 by honeydripping

summary: Travis meets Nolan at a Midtown show in 2002 when he punches Nolan in the face. He can’t help it, “Like A Movie” just goes off.

But he does feel guilty about it.

TK and Patty work at a bakery together. They go to punk shows to pass the time.

why i love it: idk if anyone asked for an early 2000s emo/punk/alt au but wow! i sure am glad it exists! really the vibes of this fic, as silly as that sounds, are absolutely unmatched. i love the structure with the music, the development of their relationship, and just everything about how the author wrote the setting (there’s this whole thing with tattoos in it that makes me feel absolutely insane)

you’re ripped at every edge by you’re a masterpiece by conformityissuicide

summary: “Ugh, look, this yoga teacher has it out for me, man. And I can’t go back there without at least having some of the basics down. I’ve got to win this battle.”

“Yoga isn’t really something you win at,” Hartsy starts.

Travis cuts him off, “You can win at anything if you try hard enough.”

+++

OR that time Nolan's a grumpy yoga teacher and Travis realizes he wants to bone him and prove him wrong about Travis' non-existent yoga abilities.

why i love it: listen, if you want tknp, at least one of them has to be an idiot, and this tk absolutely captures the obliviousness i love to see in him in fic. it’s such a great characterization of them both and such a great concept (and even better execution)

you form a terror pack (and i’m aware of that) by dalmatienne

summary: “Can I help you?” TK snarks, both eyebrows hiked up in a way that has earned her many elbow checks to the ribs.

The chick looks down her nose, long thick eyelashes fluttering. Red-bitten lips part to blow a florid pink bubble and TK can smell the chemical sweetness when it pops.

“Yeah,” she says in this monotonous voice that seems almost at odds with her bubble gum and neon skates. She jams her stopper into TK’s thigh again, literally inches away from where it’d really hurt. “Tie ‘em.”

why i love it: to be honest, i generally don’t read rule 63 within hrpf, but this one is just absolutely knocks it out of the park. the concept (i fuckin’ love roller derby), the characterization of nolan, the pacing, the rituals, the tone of the entire fic, it’s just all around a perfect read from start to finish

thrills and grills by bitter_leaf

summary: Travis can’t even begin to wonder what he did in a previous life to incur the wrath of this fucking cook. Travis thinks he’s a nice person, doesn’t conduct himself in any way that could be considered particularly dickish, and unless this guy has some sort of issue with hockey bros or people from the boonies, he’s not sure how he started shit without even knowing.

Patty has a vendetta. Travis just wants to eat his eggs in peace.

why i love it: honestly this is the enemies to lovers fic i’ve been waiting for. i remember seeing the reddit post when it first went viral and thinking it would make such a great fic premise, so stumbling across this one was just so wonderful. super engaging and fun and so hilarious to read!

nothing but room for you by fightingfuries

summary: When his agent tells him he’s going to be traded to the Devils, Nolan isn't sure how he feels about it. Might be easier if he was going somewhere farther away, like California or fucking Florida. Somewhere sun-soaked and foreign. Someplace so different from Philadelphia that he can forget he ever played for the Flyers, forget everything that happened there.

Or Nolan fucks up, gets traded, gets his shit together and falls in love. Not necessarily in that order.

why i love it: i cannot stress to you how much i love trade fics, and this one is one of my absolute favorites. the trade to the devils-so close to philly, still, but there’s more to distance than physical miles-was such an excellent choice and the split timeline adds so much to the narrative, and the emotions are real and messy and complicated in the best way

a couple of runaways (i’m glad you stayed) by overturnedgoal

summary: The person in the video he’s watching is super annoying. Some obnoxious holier than thou granola type who keeps talking about their environmental impact as if they aren’t driving a gas guzzler around, but the basic idea of living in a van, driving around wherever, camping all the time, just going hiking and swimming and seeing the whole country? It sounds pretty dope, honestly.

why i love it: i like to watch tours and conversions of vans/buses into tiny homes as a self soothing method, and this fic has the same impact that watching those do. it’s such a fun concept, and it’s so fuckin’ soft, and the dialouge between tk and nolan is just *chef’s kiss*

all candor and style in the crook of your smile by p3trichor

summary: It’s a photo of Nolan on his knees with someones’ fingers in his mouth, lips slick with spit. Travis flicks by it almost too fast and he’s only got seconds to decide if he wants to screenshot it, if he wants to just give up the ghost right then and there. Except Travis’s phone freezes momentarily and then the group refreshes, sidcros87, Bert59 and 14 others took a screenshot!

It’s gone before Travis even has time to process it and he already wasted his replay of the day on a stupid video of a stupid fish that Hayes caught.

Can you send me that screenshot Travis texts Bertuzzi before he can overthink it, his dick already stirring in his sweats. Tuzzi sends back the cry-laughing emoji and then the screenshot before Travis can be too annoyed at him.

Or, Nolan is being weird about Travis's break-up and TK is maybe not straight.

why i love it: i genuinely don’t think i have words for the amount i love this fic. it took me forever to actually read, but it’s absolutely one of my favorite fics, and it’s an absolutely riot to read. carter’s meddling and the presence of tyler bertuzzi both make it extra fun, in my humble opinion

76 notes · View notes

dmsden · 3 years

Text

A History Lesson - Looking back at D&D’s history

Hullo, Gentle Readers. Well, this is the 5th Monday in March, and that means I get to write about anything I want! It’s also my birth month, which means it’s my anniversary of getting into D&D (42 years!), and that has me feeling nostalgic. Coupled with a discussion I had recently with some friends, I thought it would be fun to look back at the various editions of D&D and give you all a bit of history. I’m not going to get into Gygax vs Arneson or any of that. I’m only talking about the published game itself, not its creators or its storied origins.

The original D&D (or OD&D as it’s sometimes called) came in a small box. It had three booklets inside - Men & Magic, Monsters & Treasure, and The Underworld & Wilderness Adventures - along with reference sheets and dice. Each was softcover and roughly the same dimensions as a DVD/BluRay case. The game was pretty rudimentary - for one thing, it assumed you already had a copy of Chainmail, D&D’s direct wargame predecessor. It also recommended you have a game called Outdoor Survival for purposes of traveling through the wilderness. It had only three classes - fighting man, magic-user, and cleric - and nothing about playing other races. It did have the insane charts that 1st edition would ultimately known for, and it was possible to play a pretty fun game of D&D with it, as its popularity would come to show.

The game expanded through similar chapbooks - Greyhawk, Blackmoor, Eldritch Wizardry, Gods Demigods & Heroes, Swords & Spells. With the exception of the last one, each brought new facets to the game - new classes like Thief and Monk, new spells, new threats. It was clear the game was going to need an overhaul, and it got one.

I consider this overhaul to yield the real “1st Edition”, as so much of the game didn’t exist in those original games. The game split into a “Basic” game, just called Dungeons & Dragons and Advanced Dungeons & Dragons.

The basic game was a boxed set that included a rulebook, a full adventure module, and dice...or, well, it was supposed to contain dice. The game was so popular and new in those days that demand for dice outstripped production. My copy of D&D came with a coupon for dice when they became available and a sheet of “chits” - laminated numbers meant to be put into cups (we used Dixie Cups with the name of the die written on it), shaken, and a random number pulled out without looking. It was meant to introduce new players to the game, so it was a trimmed down version. Races were human, elf, dwarf, and halfling, and classes were fighter, cleric, magic-user, and thief. The box only included rules for going up to 3rd level, with the intention that players would then graduate into AD&D. This is where I joined, with the old blue cover box set and In Search of the Unknown, before Keep on the Borderlands even existed.

AD&D was the game in its full glory. Along with the races I mention above, we got half-elves, half-orcs, and gnomes. The four basic classes also had sub-classes, like paladin and ranger for the fighter, druid for the cleric, illusionist for the wizard, and assassin for the thief. There were rules for multi-classing, as well as “Dual-classing”, a sort of multi-class variation for humans only, which, when done in the correct combination, could yield the infamous bard...which didn’t actually yield any bard abilities until around level 13 or so.

This edition had 5 different saving throws for things like “Death Magic”, “Petrification & Polymorph”, “Spells”, and so on. It had the infamous Armor Class system that started at 10 and went down, so that having a -3 AC was very good! It also had specific attack matricies for each class; you would literally look on a table to determine the number you needed to roll on a D20 based on your class, your level, and your opponent’s armor class. It was fun, but it was very complicated.

It also had some, frankly, shitty rules. There was gender disparity in terms of attributes, which my group totally ignored. Because the game designers wanted humans to be a competitive the game, and because non-humans had so many abilities and could multiclass, non-humans were severely limited in the levels they could achieve in most classes. In fact, some classes, such as monk and paladin, were restricted only to humans.

As the years went on, things got a bit muddled. It probably didn’t help that the rules in Basic D&D and AD&D didn’t perfectly line up. In D&D, the worst armor class was a 9. In AD&D, the worst armor class was a 10. All of this led to an overhaul, but not one considered a separate edition. AD&D mostly got new covers and new books, like the Wilderness Survival Guide and Dungeon Survival Guide, Monster Manual 2, and the Manual of the Planes. It got a number of new settings, too. In addition to the default Greyhawk setting, we got the Forgotten Realms setting for the first time, details of which had been appearing in Dragon Magazine for years, thanks to the prolific Ed Greenwood. We also, eventually, got the whole Dragonlance saga, which yielded the setting of Krynn.

In this new version, Basic D&D broke off into its own game system to some degree. Elf, Dwarf, and Halfling started being treated like classes rather than races, with specific abilities at different levels. Higher level characters could be created using progressive boxes - Expert, Companion, Master, and Immortal, each with its own boxed set and supported by Mystara, a completely different setting that got its own updates over the years. It was odd, because D&D essentially was competing for players with AD&D, and I remember arguments with friends over which version was better (I was firmly in the AD&D camp.)

In 1989, when I was in college, they finally brought forth 2nd edition D&D. This streamlined things a little. Armor Class still went down, but now attack rolls boiled into a single number called To Hit Armor Class 0, or THAC0. It made the whole process of figuring out what you needed to roll a bit less cumbersome, but it was still a bit awkward. The classes got a lot of overhaul, including making Bard its own core class. But what I remember best about 2nd edition was the boom in settings. This was the age of settings, and many beloved ones got started, including Dark Sun, Planescape, Ravenloft, and Spelljammer.

It was also the age of the “Complete Handbooks”. They brought out splatbooks about every class and race in the game, as well as books expanding several concepts for the DM, such as the Arms & Equipment Guide, the Castle Guide, and the Complete Book of Villains. There were also splatbooks about running D&D in historic periods, such as Ancient Rome, among the ancient Celts, or during the time of the Musketeers. The game got new covers for the rule books again, and a bunch of books about options started coming out. It was a boom time for books, but many people complained there was too much.

Without going too deep, TSR ended up in severe financial troubles. They declared bankruptcy, and there was real fear of the game going away. And then Wizards of the Coast (WotC) stepped in. They helped TSR get back onto its feet, and they helped produce some modules specifically engineered to help DM’s bring an end to their campaign...possibly even their whole campaign world...because something big was coming.

That something big was, of course, 3rd edition D&D. The game got majorly streamlined, and many sacred cows ended up as hamburger. AC finally started going up instead of down. Everything was refined to the “D20″ system we’ve been playing ever since. Races could be any class. There were no level or stat limits for anyone. After years of the game being forced into tight little boxes, it really felt like we could breathe. I had stopped playing D&D, but 3rd edition brought me back into the fold. I often say that 3E was made for the players who’d felt constricted and wanted more flexibility.

The trouble with 3E, and its successor 3.5, is that it was still a dense and difficult game for newcomers to get into. It’s been acknowledged that D&D essentially created many of the systems we see and know in other games - experience points, leveling up, hit points, etc. But trying to break into the experience for the first time was difficult. The look of 3E was gorgeous, but I understood that it must seem awfully daunting to someone who’d never played.

4E and its follow-up, Essentials, was an attempt to course correct that. They tried to make this edition incredibly friendly to new DMs, and, frankly, they succeeded. By creating player classes and monsters and magic-items that were all very plug and play, they did a great job of creating a game that someone who had never DMed before could dive into with no experience or mentor and start a game pretty easily. Encounter design was given a lot of ease, and there were promises of a robust online tool system that would help out with many of the more tedious aspects of playing.

There was also a lot of shake up in terms of choices. Suddenly, new classes and races were proliferating like crazy. We got the dragonborn, the tiefling, and the eladrin right in the core book, but we said good-bye to the gnome and half-orc at first. Suddenly the warlock was the new class everyone wanted to try. We got paragon paths and epic destinies that would really shape a character as time went on. The game went very tactical, as well, which some of us loved. The concept of rituals came into the game. Later books like the Player’s Handbook 2 and 3 gave us back gnomes and half-orcs, and also gave us minotaurs, wilden, shardminds, and githzerai. We got new psionic classes, brand new class concepts like the Runeknight and the Seeker...

But there was a tremendous backlash. People felt that, in making the game so very plug and play, they’d taken a ton of choice away from the players. Without the tools (which were never that robust, frankly), it was almost impossible to navigate the massive panoply of options. And, worse, it was harder and harder to develop encounters without those tools. People complained that the game had gone more tactical in order to sell miniatures and battlemats. Given that I have never played the game without miniatures and battlemats (since I started in the days when D&D was still half-wargame), I found this odd, but I also understand my style of play isn’t everyone’s.

The one argument I will never understand is that it didn’t “feel” like D&D, or it was somehow ONLY a tactical game and not a role-playing game any more. Again, given that the original game didn’t even call itself a role-playing game, this felt odd. Personally, I roleplay no matter what game I’m playing. If I’m playing Monopoly, I’m roleplaying, doing voices, and pretending to be something I’m not. I honestly enjoyed 4E, and I know a lot of folks who did, too. A lot of it may simply come down to style of play. But I also enjoyed all the games that came before, including Pathfinder. To paraphrase the YouTube content creator The Dungeon Bastard, “Does your game have dungeons? Does it have dragons? Great. I wanna play.”

As a sidenote, in the months leading up to 4E’s release, a lot of internet videos were released by WotC emphasizing the nature of change and talking about differences in the rules. They also released some preview books showing the direction they were heading. WotC must have anticipated that people were going to find this edition very different indeed. They also cleverly brought in some very funny folks - Scott Kurtz from PVPOnline and Jerry Holkins & Mike Krahulik from Penny Arcade - and got them to play D&D for podcasting purposes. Looking back, this must’ve brought in a lot of listeners who might never have played D&D and given them a reason to try it out.

After its release, WotC clearly noted that missteps had been made, as this edition of the game was losing them players. They began work on what they referred to as D&D Next, and, this time, they did massive amounts of playtesting, some of which I participated in.

I don’t feel like I have to describe 5E to any of you, Dear Readers, as you could go to virtually any store and pick it up. I am a big fan of 5E’s simplicity and elegance, and I suspect this is the edition of D&D we’re going to have for some time to come, especially given its popularity. Given the effect of podcasts like Critical Role (and I might save an article on Critical Role’s importance to D&D until my next Freestyle article), D&D is likely more popular now than it’s ever been, with a much wider and more diverse audience than ever before.

I know I’m painting with broad strokes here, but I hope this was, at least, entertaining, and maybe you learned something, Gentle Readers. Until we next meet, may all your 20s be natural.

116 notes · View notes

jamesvanriemsdyk · 3 years

Note

Best GMs and coaches in the league ACC to you?

we can start with gms because coaching is a bit more complicated. best gms in the league is easy to look at because like, who has a good team? who has had a consistently good team? whose locker room is the most cohesive, whose coaching staff is the best? who is the best at acquiring and keeping the best players, coaches, staff, etc? and you can see that in the way teams play.

(putting this under the cut because it got long. and i mean Long.)

so, in no particular order: kyle dubas (leafs), steve yzerman (red wings, i will explain this later), don waddell (canes), julien brisebois (lightning), joe sakic (avs), and kelly mccrimmon/george mcphee (golden knights) (god i still hate that name and also will explain this later too) are the best in the league in my opinion. honorable mention to marc bergevin, who has held onto his job much longer than he arguably should have, but still has a decent team on the ice and a decent coaching staff, although the french rule does severely handicap them (i understand why it exists but it does, it just does).

david poile (preds) is the longest tenured gm in the league (has been the preds gm since fucking 1997, thats insane, thats legit before i was born, what the fuck), and i do genuinely think he is very good at his job, and that he is very hockey smart, but oh boy have his recent decisions been suspect as hell, and that reflects in the state of his team. doug wilson (sharks), who is the second longest tenured gm in the nhl, is in the exact same boat (the karlsson deal is a nightmare, and also did he just forget that his star core was gonna get old and retire or ??).

with dubas, waddell, brisebois, sakic, and mccrimmon/mcphee all have the same basic strengths: they draft well, they have a fundamental understanding of their team structure and how to manage public perception of the team and everything that implies, and they have two fingers on the pulse of their locker room at all times. im not going to pretend to know as much about sakic and mccrimmon/mcphee as i do the eastern gms, but it doesnt take much to figure it out. look at the avs, and their locker room, the success theyve found after being dead fucking last in the league. look at the knights and their incredible success that theyve found after literally not existing before 2017. ive talked about dubas a lot on my blog, but its incredibly easy to see that waddell and brisebois do the same shit he does, and i can do a deep dive on them if asked. bergevin has moments of brilliance, like the suzuki trade and acquiring caufield and anderson, but things like kotkaniemi’s development and their entire blue line give me a massive pause, which is why he’s not in the main list. he’s a good gm. he’s just not the best.

in regards to steve yzerman: you have to understand that this is the man that built the tampa bay lightning as we know them. this man was gm of the bolts until fucking 2018. tampa bay has been a monster in the eastern conference for years, BECAUSE of the work steve yzerman put in. his team set the franchise record for wins, and he was the first and is the only lightning gm to have won gm of the year. look up the 17-18 roster. it is, essentially, the roster that won them the cup last year. make no mistake, i think brisebois is great, and hes on the list for a reason, but the biggest part of brisebois’ success was steve yzerman’s incredible hockey mind. brisebois essentially had to sell off a fourth of his roster, and the lightning are still a top team in their division and in the league, and thats why he’s there (it is so incredibly easy to fuck shit up post cup win), but the brisebois lightning would not exist without steve yzerman, plain and simple.

what steve yzerman is doing in detroit should be watched very, very closely by every single person in the hockey world. youre fucking nuts if youre not paying attention to them, not gonna lie. the mantha trade was excellent, if really sad if you know even a bit about the wings, but the amount of draft picks steve yzerman has amassed and the way he’s using the prospects and players he already has is really fucking admirable. mike babcock left the red wings organization absolutely in tatters, and i think, honestly, it was always steve yzerman’s plan to go home to detroit and rebuild. if there is anyone who is going to strike absolute gold this draft year, it is steve yzerman. watch the red wings, i am telling you, keep a beat on detroit. they are going to be good. its not an if, its a when.

(real quick on the knights situation: mcphee was the first gm of the knights, and was also president of hockey ops at the same time, and then in 2019 mcphee said he was just gonna focus on his job as president, but we all know hes still an integral part of the way the knights are run, and he and mccrimmon have kinda been building the knight together since the beginning anyway bc mccrimmon was originally mcphee’s agm. so. thats why theyre together)

as for coaches, it’s very simple. rod brind’amour (canes), sheldon keefe (leafs, yes im biased, we’ll get into it), jared bednar (avs), joel quenneville (panthers), jon cooper (lightning), barry trotz (isles), and mike sullivan (pens).

(disclaimer: obviously coaching is done as a team, and assistants and specialist coaches and staff are all very important, but the head coaches set the tone and organize the entire machine, if you will, so im going to be talking about head coaches as if theyre the entire coaching staff. its just easier this way im sorry)

im gonna just start with the easy ones: barry trotz, mike sullivan, and jon cooper have been in the league for years. cooper is the longest tenured coach in the nhl for a reason (again, just look at the tampa bay lightning. its the gm’s job to make the coach’s life easier and the coach’s job to make the gm’s life easier, and this is one of the prime examples of it in the league. its dope as hell tbh), trotz is one of the most respected coaches in the hockey world for a reason (the caps lost something when he walked. they just did. and now the isles are absolute hell to play against and that is largely the coaching of barry trotz, you legit cannot tell me im wrong), and while mike sullivan does have his faults, i think hes found a way to please both management and the crosby-and-malkin unit, which has been really really fucking hard to do. he also led the pens to back to back cups, which you can never really uh. ignore. lmao. so theres those three.

i know less about bednar, but again, another example of the coach and gm working together to make each others’ lives easier. sakic gets bednar the players and staff he needs to make the avs better, and bednar takes those players and staff and makes them into the absolute giant they are. it wouldve been really, really easy to fuck up makar’s development, or bowen byram’s, or sam girard’s, or ryan graves’s, or jost or mackinnon or rantanen’s, but he hasn’t, and he hasn’t just given up on players like burakovsky or kadri, he’s given them new life as players and made them more successful.

joel quenneville is the reason the bl/ckh/wks were a legacy team point blank period. sure they had the talent, sure the gm drafted well, but you do not get the legacy of the chicago bl/ckh/wks without joel quenneville. they fired him on a whim and it absolutely was a mistake, and the moment the cats hired him i literally out loud said ‘oh no’ because i knew exactly what that meant for the leafs and their position in the standings. the panthers are underrated generally, yes, but they would not be the powerhouse they are this season without quenneville. just look at q’s wiki stats. he’s absolutely unbeilevable. he won the jack adams in fucking 2000, before he’d even won any of the cups with the h/wks. i cant tell you what kind of a locker room coach this guy is, but i can tell you his teams win and win convincingly, and that firing him was the biggest mistake the h/wks have made in years.

whenever i talk about coaching, i talk about rod brindamour and sheldon keefe in the same breath every single time because there is no match, and i mean none, for the love inside those locker rooms. the avs, maybe, but my point stands. keefe and brindamour fucking BLEED team spirit, it is at the center of their coaching styles and their teams are good because of it specifically. marner and matthews are good, yes, and they always have been, but they have surpassed all expectation and then some with keefe. aho, teravainen, and svechnikov are good, yes, and they always have been, but they have surpassed all expectation with brindamour. brindamour and keefe have both hashtag played the game, so they Get It, and more than that, theyve grown and changed their understanding of the game as the game itself has changed, and so they can command the authority of their teams while also connecting to them on a really deep level. i should make a note here that keefe and brindamour are incredibly, deeply hockey smart, and that they are also just technically good coaches, skimming their wiki or nhl dot com articles will tell you that, but what makes them stand out to me is that their players would fucking die for them. the leafs would go through the end boards for keefe, the canes would do the same for brindamour. travis dermott said it best when keefe got promoted: boys wanna play for him. beyond that, the management skills both brindamour and keefe have are just frankly amazing (the amount of ego keefe specifically has to manage in the leafs locker room is astounding and he does it so incredibly brilliantly). the leafs and the canes are talented, yes, and would have been talented regardless of who was coaching them. but brindamour and keefe bring both of those teams from talented to exceptional, and the true mark of an amazing coach is not only how many games their team wins, but how they win them, and the leafs and canes have been winning games this year for and because of each other, and that starts with their coaches. what makes a great coach, to me, is not the talent on the team (though that certainly helps), but how the coach manages his players no matter who they are, and how he helps those players grow not just as players as people, because no matter how much pure stats people and twitter hockey dudebros wanna deny it, that shit does affect on ice play, and it does make good players better.

so theres my analysis of the best coaches and gms of the nhl, im so sorry this is so long, oh my god. also, shoutout to @bishops--knifetrick for sending me an ask about this literally a month ago that i just never answered, sorry for that, but here i hope this is good. :)

#anon #answered #hockey info #wow this took legit like several hours to write between stints of taking care of the baby #ok to rb lmao

53 notes · View notes

izzabeean · 3 years

Text

Chapter 5 : Impulse

SUMMARY

You've learned something you wish you didn't about Ushijima and now you wish you could forget.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 2,836

tags : alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : What can I say, Y/N has a bit of a sweet tooth! I mean if I spent a day in the city you bet I would be eating a lot of food. Or is that just me? Anyway, I am happy with how this turned out! The next chapter is going to be so fun!

Will try to post every Thursday evening PST, if not latest by Friday.

Hope you're enjoying the series so far!

masterlist

<< prev | ch . 5 | next >>

Today sucks.

After last night, you didn’t think it could get any worse, but you were so wrong. The sliver of hope that today was going to be a bit better quickly vanished in a matter of seconds leaving your heart even more shattered than you thought was possible.

So why?

Why is it that you saw the person you’d love the most with a girl you’d never seen before? As much as you wish it weren’t so, the evidence is right in front of you no matter how many times you try to push the image away.

Staring down at your soft serve ice cream, nearly melted, you let out a big sigh trying to repress the tears wanting to form. You wish your favorite flavor of frozen dessert could solve all your problems, alas, the rich creamy flavors only remind you of a date you had with Ushijima…

“It’s never too cold for ice cream,” you spout, arms linked with Ushijima marching your way to your favorite ice cream shop. It was this particular spot that made you realize Ushijima is more than what you’ve ever wanted in your life. You’d been dating for six months now, a new record in your love life, also a big surprise you haven’t tired him out with your nonsense.

Instead of arguing whether a cold dessert was an appropriate snack in the winter, he just let out a deep sigh in reply knowing you’re not going to be convinced otherwise.

“Don’t give me that,” you holler, covering your face in your hands, refusing to look at Ushijima.

Gently, he grabs your hands pulling them away from your face giving you a little kiss on the cheek in apology for his teasing.

“Y/N.”

Oikawa’s voice pulls you out of your bitter memory back to sitting across from him at a cafe. Your heart drops, realizing that there will not be any more moments like that with Ushijima. Did everything always remind you of him this much?

“You’re ice cream,” Oikawa says, eyes locked on to the dessert dripping on your hand.

Quickly you get up from the table grabbing some napkins to wipe up the mess you’ve made which resonates with you very well at this point. Not only are you emotionally a mess, apparently now you can’t even physically get a hold of yourself. Emotional pain is just temporary, yes, yet there’s this overwhelming feeling that makes you think your entire world is closing in on you.

In the process of cleaning up the sticky residue, you let out a growl noticing it’s dripped onto your palish pants producing a humiliating colored stain. You start pressing on the fabric in hopes your mishap would magically disappear… It doesn’t.

Oikawa peers down at your pants attempting to conceal his chuckle with a titter.

“It’s not funny,” you rasp.

But Oikawa can’t stop himself from bursting into a loud guffaw resulting in a free-flowing of tears.

Completely exasperated by the chaos, you throw out what’s left of your liquefied treat and sit back at the table covering your face with your hands. You didn’t feel in a rush to embarrass yourself more by strutting around the city with a large smudge of ice cream on your pants.

Once Oikawa gains his composure, he takes his jacket off and passes it to you across the table.

“You can hold this to cover it,” he offers.

The gesture feels loaded, like the true intent is much more devious than that, especially since he seemed to find it so amusing. There’s no way Oikawa could perform such gracious acts of kindness.

“Take it,” he says.

“Aren’t you going to be cold?” You reply, shoving the coat away with your hands.

Oikawa shrugs, “I’ll be fine.”

Giving in to his persistency, you take the jacket. “Thank you,” you breathe.

You watch Oikawa straighten out his shirt and fix his hair as a couple of girls walk by giggling, smiling at him, one even gives a little wave. It puzzles you how Oikawa can be such a dreamboat, from your years of friendship, his reputation borderlines annoying and childish, but the little gestures he’s made today have really made you rethink; this was a side to Oikawa you’ve never seen before.

On your way back to the train station, you look out toward the horizon and see the sun setting; pinks and oranges fill the sky, and the sight before you is quite romantic. The scene itself ended up turning out to be soothing despite the alarming encounter from earlier.

Now your new reality is finally setting in where there’s no Ushijima.

“I don’t want to go home,” you utter.

Oikawa studies you with your head hanging low. The glow of the sun coats you in its gleaming rays, he wasn’t sure if he was imagining things but he noticed the light capture a shimmer of a single tear tracking down your cheek. Then it finally resonates with him: you're not okay.

“Wish I could get out of these pants though,” you laugh. Then just like that, you revert to a smile.

“Let’s take you out,” Oikawa says.

“Out? Like to a club?” You didn’t fully expect any sort of resolution from Oikawa, your comment was meant to be rhetorical.

“Yeah! You, me, and Iwa! We never go together and it will be good for you to go out to have some fun!”

“I don’t know about that,” you sigh.

Oikawa’s eyes widen, the look on his face is full of excitement basically begging you to say yes. He must know you’re feeling vulnerable because it doesn’t take a moment more of hesitation to.

------

When Oikawa said he was going to take you out, he really meant it. The nightclub is lavish as loud music pulses in your chest while crowds of people huddle around the bar and scatter across the dance floor.

Oikawa could be considered an avid clubber, how could he not be when he is so popular with girls, and had always tried to convince you to join him. You never really have, but you’ve also never really had your heartbroken to this degree.

“It’s about to get even more crowded,” Oikawa yells into your ear.

10:13 pm on a Saturday evening and it’s going to get busier? Oh god.

Crowds aren’t your thing. Clubs aren’t your thing. Drinking isn’t really your thing. What are you even doing here?

“Shots?” Oikawa suggests pointing to the bar.

Your stomach churns at the thought. Diving into the night with shots seems excessive; they always leave a bitter taste in your mouth and the strong smell makes you want to gag. You wanted a drink to ease you into the evening...

“6 shots of Jäger,” Oikawa orders.

Maybe not so much tonight.

The bartender retrieves the alcohol and brings back six shot glasses, each filled to the rim of dark liquor. Holding the shot glass up to your face, the potent smell makes your nose scrunch. With a cheers, you throw back the alcohol and the sensation burns your throat; it’s awful. Knowing there’s a second shot waiting, you don't delay the inevitable.

“Someone’s eager,” Oikawa purrs watching you down the second shot.

The corners of your mouth turn down as the hairs on your back stand up. You let out an ick and turn to Oikawa and Iwaizumi who are both in awe of your tenacity. Truthfully, you were shocked too. Then all the tension in your body seems to disperse, from the day, from entering the nightclub. You finally feel relaxed.

“Am I going to be waiting for you all night? Or what?” You tease eyeing their untouched liquor.

Both men look at each other and take the shot in one gulp. Calling over the bartender you order another round, this time they’re a lot easier to take.

“You’re really not playing around,” Iwaizumi teases, impressed that you’re able to down three shots in a matter of minutes upon entering the venue.

Shifting your gaze to Iwaizumi, he looks so hot in his black button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone. A warm feeling fills your chest, you didn’t know if it was the alcohol hazing your perception or you were genuinely starting to crush on him.

Damn it, you think to yourself while your eyes continue to linger on him.

Considering your current situation, the smart thing to do here would be to do nothing. On the other hand, you couldn’t help that your heart fluttered in Iwaizumi’s presence. Surely, he didn’t realize the meaning behind his words but it brought you lower into the sort of absolution that you were definitely forming a rebound crush on him. But you couldn’t let yourself. Of course, if you did, you were bound to hurt Iwaizumi and your friendship with Oikawa. You had to stop yourself before it was too late.

Oikawa’s eyes fall onto you, noticing your ogling. You seem to illuminate with this glow he hasn’t seen all day and for a split second, he is fueled with irritation at the sight. But catches his outward anger and pushes it down, gaining composure.

------

Keeping up with Oikawa for most of the night was a bad idea. Certainly, it didn’t occur to you until you stumble into the bathroom all by yourself, realizing you were most definitely unable to stand straight without help.

Check yourself out in the mirror, you pull out your phone to take a raunchy selfie. You smirk at yourself checking the photo before posting it to your social media story.

That will show him, you think, hopeful Ushijima will see the image you’ve posted. He’s not the only one who can have fun.

Before even pressing “post” you get a text from Oikawa asking where you are. You giggle as you type come find me and press send with the intention of finding him first.

As you leave the bathroom, you begin to scan the crowd for Oikawa or Iwaizumi trying to recollect where you last saw them. The crowds of people in the vicinity make it practically impossible and the further you walk into the nightclub, the louder the music gets, the brighter the lights are, the warmer your body feels.

All you wanted to do was get out.

Stepping outside, there’s this instant relief from the crisp evening air although it doesn’t last long, and soon a violent shiver courses through you. Turning around to go back inside the bouncer stops you then points to what seems like an endless line of people.

“B-but, I-I just need to get my jacket,” you stammer.

“Sorry, ma’am. You’re going to have to wait in line,” he booms.

Your outward calmness cracks, too anxious to even think up an excuse. You needed to find Oikawa or Iwaizumi and you need to find them now!

You turn your attention back to your phone as you begin to type out a text to come meet you outside the club.

“Hey sweet cheeks,” a raspy voice calls out.

You look up and see a rough-looking guy in line making intense eye contact with you. Normally you don’t judge, but your drunk bordering wasted self notes this man was very sketchy and it’s best to avoid him. So you turn your back to him and call Oikawa instead.

“Hey don’t ignore me,” he yells.

You start walking in the opposite direction from the line as far away from the stranger as possible. You’re a bit worried he can still see you and slip into an alley beside the nightclub, the phone still ringing on the other end.

“Pick up. Pick up. Pick up!!” You mutter into the receiver. Oikawa doesn’t, so you try again.

“I don’t like being ignored, sweet cheeks.” The same raspy voice makes you jump as you turn around to see the scraggly man backlit by fluorescent streetlights, only making his appearance more menacing.

The call goes to Oikawa’s voicemail again.

“Guess your friend ditched ya,” he continued walking closer to you. The statement sobers you up as his aura escalates to a more threatening demeanor.

“They said they’ll just be out,” you squeal.

“Yeah?” The stranger keeps shortening the distance every step. “Why don’t you come with me?”

He’s so close now that you can smell his disgusting breath and you start to panic. “I-I can’t, I’m waiting for someone, th-thank you though.”

Why the fuck did you say thank you? Your brain screams at you.

“Oh come on sweet cheeks,” he coaxes, reaching out to clasp on to your wrist. “I’ll show you a good time.”

Your body freezes at his touch. It stings as a sharp pain from his grip makes you want to scream or cry, but the shock was melting your ability to. You felt so useless and timid in times of distress. You didn’t know what to do, you couldn’t escape searing clutches of--

“What do you think you’re doing?” A deep voice thunders.

The stranger turns to see the culprit and you slowly glance to see Iwaizumi with an intimidating aura protruding from him.

“Just having a nice talk,” the stranger purrs, tightening his grip more and you let out a little yelp.

“Is that what this is? She looks pretty scared to me,” Iwaizumi retorts.

“This’ none of your business kid,” the stranger rages.

“Actually it is,” he demands stepping closer. “Let go of her.”

A vein on Iwaizumi’s neck pops out as his hands start to ball into fists. Now the stranger is intensely regretting his choice and you can sense it from the fact he’s visibly shaking. You are nearly on the verge of tears from the pain in your wrist and wonder if he was going to break it.

“Let go,” Iwaizumi orders again.

And this time he does, the man, nothing but a weak buffoon, frees your wrist and walks off in a trudge.

“You okay?” Iwaizumi walks over to you to take a look at your wrist.

You nod, letting out a deep exhale trying to hide how petrified you were while holding your wrist.

“Does it hurt,” he asks, gently applying pressure to it. “Let me take a look.”

Initially, you flinch at his touch, afraid the searing pain will return, instead, his fingertips lightly trace your wrist while analyzing it thoroughly.

“Let me take you to a hospital to be sure.”

“No, no,” you breathe, locking eyes with him. “I’m fine, just a little sore.

Iwaizumi’s face flickers with a bit of uncertainty but decides not to push it and lets go of your wrist to take out a cigarette.

“Fuck,” you hiss. You felt like an idiot for going off on your own, for drinking this much, for going out at all. “I’m sorry.”

Deeply inhaling the smoke, he turns to you, “For what?”

“For running off by myself, and you totally just saving my ass. It’s just… pathetic,” you exclaim, reverting eye contact with him-- you’re slightly embarrassed and his silence is only telling, considering you barely know each other. “I swear to god, I’m not normally like this.”

“It’s not pathetic,” he states, shrugging his shoulders. “Oikawa says you’re dealing with shit.”

Your reaction isn’t short of an embarrassment. His words hurt you as the scenario of Oikawa telling Iwaizumi about your break-up fills your mind. You scoff. “I’m fine!”

“You’re a horrible liar.” Iwaizumi didn’t have a problem calling you out as you stared at him after a few moments of silence.

“So what am I supposed to tell him?” you mutter, this surge of anger sweeps over you, you feel this swell of rage boiling inside. “That it’s ok to see my ex, not even a day broken-up with a new girl? It’s fucking bullshit!”

He turns to look at you and blinks at your reaction. The sudden unexpected word vomit makes you pause.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to take it out on you,” you whisper. “It’s just weird, you know, all of it. I didn’t expect to be blindsided like that. It’s just…” You look over to Iwaizumi listening intently to you and feel your face grow hot. “Oh my god, I’m sorry! You never asked.”

It’s awkward and quiet, you’re pretty sure Iwaizumi can feel it too. You’re puzzled with what to say and feel pressured to express a less depressing answer. You didn’t want to drop the mood of the evening. In those moments, it became apparent you needed to sober up.

“Can I have one?” you ask.

He looks at you with wide eyes, “You smoke?”

You take out your lighter that you have stowed away in your purse flaunting it as evidence of your new bad habit. Iwaizumi tosses you the pack of smokes.

“You’re not going to tell on me, are you?” You’re trying to sound like you’re joking but a hint of worry seeps through and you’re left waiting for a serious response from him.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x y/n #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime

71 notes · View notes

ladykissingfish · 3 years

Text

A Date with an Angel // Part Four // Zetsu and Kisame

Zetsu

“Oh — God —“, Konan gasps, panting and holding her sides. She had thought she was in better shape than this, but ... “Do you want to stop and rest for a bit?” Konan nods, feeling mildly embarrassed as she sits gingerly on a log. When Konan had been a young girl, going for walks through the woods had been one of her favorite activities. Quiet, fresh air, surrounded by birds and butterflies and flowers ... so when Zetsu asked her if she wanted to go on a “relaxing hike”, she’d agreed right away. But apparently she and Zetsu differed greatly on their ideas of what “relaxing” meant, because this was intense. The park Zetsu took her to had a variety of winding trails, and the one they were traveling up now was probably the steepest of them all, going up many deep hills and crevices. Konan was glad she’d brought more than one bottle of water in her small backpack; here she was opening her third one. “How are you not even winded?”, she asked him, as she slugged down the icy coolness. Zetsu merely smiles and takes a drink of his own water. “I do this all the time. For the stuff Nagato has us all doing, there’s really no better way to stay in shape.” Konan has to agree with that, but even without the walking, Zetsu is probably the healthiest person in the house ... and also, possibly, the strangest. He came and went at all hours of the day and night, and the others referred to him as “the spy”. He always had intel on people that Nagato was interested in, and he was a master problem solver, often resolving issues before they even had a chance to become one. He seemed to be the closest to Obito, and the two would spend hours playing chess against each other. Konan rests on her log and stares out at the scenery below, when Zetsu’s voice comes to her from the stillness: “He was a good man.” “Who?” “Yahiko.” Konan turns her head towards him, surprised. “Did you know him??” Zetsu nods. “Yeah. Met him a few times back when Nagato was putting this group together. Nagato — he was always trying to convince your boyfriend to join up. But Yahiko, you know all this just wasn’t his thing. Very peaceful guy. Talked about you so damn much I felt Iike I already knew you on the day I met you.” Konan smiled at that, then stood up. “You know he loved this too. Going for long hikes, I mean. Always tried to get me to go with. Wonder if he’d be proud of me right now — or pissed.” Zetsu laughs at that and puts his hand on Konan’s shoulder, saying, reassuringly, “Proud. Always proud.” The two continue their hike (Konan finds it a bit easier now that she’s rested and more hydrated) and they come across a small pond surrounded by flowers. “Oh!” Konan exclaims, and quickly draws her sketch book out of her pack. “I have to draw those flowers!” Zetsu looked at her, surprised. “I thought you only did Origami? I didn’t know you could draw, too.” “It’s both, kind of. I sketch out flowers that I like so I can try to fold them at home later.” When she’s done, the sun has gotten a bit lower in the sky than either had anticipated, so that hurry back to the entrance of the trails. They get there just as the sun sinks beneath the horizon, and Zetsu, taking hold of Konan’s arm, tells her to look up. She does and gasps; out in the open, and completely free from the lights of the city, the sky is flooded with what seems like millions of gold-silver sparkles. “I never knew there were so many,” Konan says in an awed voice, her eyes eating up her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful in my entire life.” Zetsu just smiles, and takes the opportunity to gently kiss her forehead as he tells her, “The sky is pretty ... but you put it to shame, Konan.” They make light conversation on the car ride home, but Konan’s sleepiness from so much physical exertion catches up to her, and she’s knocked out before they pull in the driveway. Zetsu lifts her out and carries her into the house and to her room, where he gently lays her on top of her covers, before turning off her light and closing the door.

Kisame

“You don’t have to do this.” “I know that; but I don’t mind.” “You don’t think it’s embarrassing?” Kisame shook his head. “How is spending time in the water with a beautiful woman in anyway embarrassing?” Konan sighed and focused on kicking again. It was the next day, and early that morning Kisame had knocked on her door, asking her to accompany him to “his favorite place in the world.” It shouldn’t have been surprising where they ended up; Kisame was one of the most outgoing, talkative members of the house, and one of the first things he and Konan had a conversation about were the many shiny trophies that lined his room shelves. “Swim Team,” he’d said, proudly, when she asked. I joined freshman year in high school, and was captain by junior year. We went to all the tournaments; came in first 4 times in two years.” Today was rather lovely; after watching the stars with Zetsu the night before, seeing the sun come up over the waters at the beach with Kisame was very poetic. Kisame was prepared; he’d brought them towels, sunscreen, magazines, and abundant supply of drinks and snacks. While it was early, it was too chilly to even think about going in the water, but the day very quickly warmed up to the point where Kisame was stripping off his shirt and diving into the water. Konan was genuinely surprised that a man as big as Kisame, as solid and muscular, could be so smooth and graceful in the water. “You don’t want to join me?”, he’d asked, after coming up for the umpteenth time. “The water isn’t really that cold. It’s quite refreshing.” But Konan shook her head and explained, sheepishly, that she’d never learned how to swim. Kisame’s immediate response had been “Let me teach you,” and, although Konan had her misgivings, she allowed Kisame to take her hand and guide her into the water. They started off with very basic exercises, such as Kisame holding her up while she kicked and paddled, and then he explained about balance and breathing and body weight, and “If you feel yourself going under, don’t panic. Work to pull yourself back up. Fight. And you don’t have to worry, because I’ll be right here to help you.” Eventually Konan feels confident enough to swim out a ways from Kisame, and although her head is briefly pulled under the waves she takes his advice, stays calm, and fights her way out from under. Kisame pats her shoulder when she gets back to him, congratulating her. “See? Easy as pie, right?” “It’s easy when you have a great teacher.” The two take a break from the water to eat and bask in the sun. “This must be what heaven feels like,” Konan comments, turning towards where Kisame is laying on his towel beside her. Can I ask you something?” “Yeah?” “You’re so ... big, you know? I would have thought a big guy like you would be a football player, or hockey, or something like that. Why swimming?” “I guess ... because my dad was a swimmer, too,” he answers, sitting up. “It was something, maybe the ONLY something, we bonded over, right? If you think I have a lot of trophies you should see his; he’s got a whole wall of awards from junior high, high school, and college.” Konan nods, going quiet for a bit before saying, “I don’t remember my dad that well. He died when I was four. Mom ... I guess that’s why I like origami such much, because she was a sketch artist. Her specialty was flowers. My drawings are okay but folding is better. Makes sense. Is that how you feel about swimming? It just makes sense to you?” He nods, and the two spend the next half hour in a companionable quiet. Before they leave for the day, they have a lot more fun. They join on opposing sides of a children’s volleyball game, then the kids join Konan in burying Kisame up to his neck in sand. They swim a bit more, Kisame helps Konan collect seashells — before long they’re both tired, and head back home. When they get to the front door, Konan hugs Kisame (and Kisame has to bend quite a ways for her to reach him, and kisses his cheek. “I had a great day with you, Kisame.” He blushes, then asks timidly, if she’s not VERY tired, if she wants to watch a

movie with him in the living room. She agrees, and Kisame makes them popcorn and pops in The Waterboy, which he claims is his favorite movie “of all time, ever.” Halfway through the flick Itachi emerges from his room and joins them, and the three have a pleasant evening with each other.

#the akatsuki #a date with an angel #first date #konan akatsuki #konan #zetsu #kisame hoshigaki #kisakona #zetkona

17 notes · View notes

setsuntamew · 3 years

Text

So, Persona 5 Royal, huh?

Full disclosure: I had gotten about halfway through November on Wednesday and finished it out Saturday night, which took uhhh about 65-70 hours? Some of that was sitting there waiting for the PS4 controller to recharge or listening to music in the Thieves Den while eating, but I still feel like I need to own up to how extremely bad I am at making good decisions with my life XD

MOVING ON, THOUGH, HOLY SHIT. P5 was a very good game, but Royal’s additions & changes made it incredible. I like the ending way more; I think it’s more emotionally fulfilling and meaningful, especially with everyone’s more defined future plans. Definitely felt like everyone had more growth in the end!! Which is something I’d always thought P5 was lacking.

Snip snip for spoilers and the fact that this post ended up being too damn long, oops! the last third is basically Akechi feels and analyzing his ending, so......yeah XD

Part of why I plowed through SO much of Royal in so little time is....Akechi XD Like okay, this is my stupid fandom blog, I can be excited about him all I want!!! I got to Sae’s Palace and just....I couldn’t put it down. @dragonofeternal and I ordered an embarrassing amount of takeout instead of cooking because we just had to see how everything with Maruki and the third semester was gonna go down. I’d already been dying along the way because Akechi’s confidant dates are so good, I just. Fuck!!!

Also, look, for the entirity of Shido’s boss fight and the depths of Mementos/Yaldabaoth/etc, we’d look at each other every few minutes and just be like AKECHI SHOULD BE HERE WITH US, HE DESERVES TO GET HIS VENGEANCE ON HIS SHITTY DAD AND FORCED DESTINY!!!!!

December 24th had to be the longest god damn day in Akira’s life because like. Final exam grades are posted in the morning! He goes to school and then dives into hell, crawls his way back out, briefly dies by fading from human cognition, fights an actual fucking god, and then....ends up dissociating in Shibuya until Sae shows up and is like “oh hey thanks for everything you did, please sign up for being arrested now.” And while he’s still reeling from that, Akechi walks up to take his place, like some kind of bullshit knight in shining armor schtick, and leaves no room for conversation.

AND THEN WE HAVE TO GO ON A DATE

I romanced Hifumi this time around, because I wanted Akria to bang a girl who is just so incredibly out of his league, but....it’s not necessarily that I forgot I was dating someone, more that it had been *so many hours of plot* that I was emotionally exhausted. Like, Hifumi texted me and I was just like. Right. RIGHT. It’s still Christmas Eve, somehow. I was at *school* this morning. The whole world merged with Mementos briefly in the middle of this, Akechi is somehow alive, and I guess I’m going on a date now????

I do appreciate how many “god I’m just dissociating my way through this” conversation options there were for the date, tbh. I feel bad though, I really like Hifumi, but I feel like Akira is not giving a date his full emotional attention at that specific time. It feels a bit like emotional whiplash, more so than I remember it being in P5? Maybe it’s because I played it 4 years ago and there wasn’t the added emotional weight of Akechi’s reappearance, but it was just like....a lot, in Royal.

AND THEN THE NEW YEAR HAPPENED. I’d been spoiled on large parts of the third semester, mostly because Royal’s been out for a year already and I’m too curious for my own good. I’d also somehow lied to myself, saying I didn’t have time to play another Persona game right now, and yet here I am, 171 hours of game play within exactly a month, kicking myself for not knowing how deep in Persona hell I would get XD

Which is to say, as soon as the new year started, it felt I was drowning in anxiety. I knew something was wrong, I knew they were in a false reality, but knowing that sure as fuck didn’t make it easier to go through. If anything, it was somehow worse, knowing that it was all gonna come crumbling down, but I didn’t yet know the exact details, only the broad strokes of it. Just. Every time someone talked about something that was wrong, my heart would clench.

God, I’m so fucking tired, I pulled an all-nighter on Friday so I could get through Royal before having to work on Sunday, and I am feeling it right now. Life tips: don’t do what I do XD

Every moment with Akechi felt like borrowed time, at least for me, because I knew what was coming. I spent so much time in Mementos with him; I ended up putting just him and Akira in my party and plowing through everything, including trouncing the Reaper over and over just for the hell of it. I got his ultimate weapons, I spent so many nights in the jazz club with him that he ran out of dialogue options, and I still took him back for more. I accidentally failed to EVER trigger Sumire’s Showtime because every fight was just Akira and Akechi against the world, because fuck it, I’m playing this for fun!! If I want to play with them in stupid costumes and no one else in the party, I’m gonna. Royal did such an incredible job giving Akechi more depth and development: it was all I could hope for, and it made it that much fucking worse to know what was in store for him.

Somehow, I thought it would be harder for me to make the decision to refuse Maruki’s deal, since fuck, fuck what I wouldn’t give for Akechi to be alive???? But I barely hesitated, only really stopping because I had to emotionally brace myself for it, because a reality where he can’t carve out his own fate would be a disrespect to everything their relationship is built on.

I have a whole shit ton of feelings about post-beating Maruki but they’re basically all Akechi related meta so somehow they ended up at the end of this post, I’m sorry XD

I understand that they had to keep the going to jail bit because 1) Akechi didn’t turn himself in, Akira did and 2) it leads to the final events of the game, but let me just say....the emotional roller coaster of fighting Maruki, almost failing multiple times, waking up in jail, the Phantom Thieves & friends getting Akira out of jail, celebrating that, and then getting thrown into Valentines Day was a LOT for my heart to take. Once again, didn’t forget I had a girlfriend, just got too invested in the plot to really be thinking about her. It’s less than two weeks after the fight with Maruki and somehow, everything is supposed to be okay????

The scene with everyone talking about their future plans is such good character growth, though. Everyone feels like they’ve truly grown and are making decisions that, even though they might be painful or hard at times, are ultimately very important to them. It’s a really good contrast to the “almost everyone goes to Shujin and they all stay in Tokyo forever without doing anything for themselves” Maruki’s perfect reality bad end.

Standing in the Underground Mall on White Day, being told I had to get flowers but finally being able to have control of Akira again was....so bittersweet. The fact that the location of the date is the aquarium is a low fucking blow, and I almost threw the controller across the room I was so upset. Like. THE AQUARIUM IS UNLOCKED BECAUSE AKECHI HAS TICKETS HOW FUCKING DARE SOJIRO SUGGEST IT LIKE MY HEART ISN’T STILL ACHING????? God, speaking of that: The fucking god damn Featherman video game tore my heart out because I ended up playing it WHILE WORKING ON SHIDO’S PALACE and I cried a ton about Gray Pigeon because of course they had to dig the emotional knife in even deeper!! Just fuck me up, it’s fine, I’m just dying!!!!!!!!!!!!

I ended up scrolling through his texts to find the group chats that still had Akechi in them, and fuck, it was a LOT. Like. Maybe it’s because I’m too invested in the two of them, but it was probably the worst emotional whiplash of the whole game. Like, how am I supposed to go play happy with anyone while staring at texts from a reality built of lies? It wasn’t real but the proof lives on in his phone and his heart, and I’m still fucked up over it.

HOWEVER. FUCKING. I SPENT LIKE HALF AN HOUR BEING EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED ABOUT ALL THIS AND THEN DISCOVERED THE BASTARD STILL HAD ALL HIS EQUIPMENT, INCLUDING THE ULTIMATE MALE ARMOR!!! He returned his shit after Sae’s Palace even though he thought Akira was dead, but this time it didn’t get fucking returned to my inventory, so he must have fucking run off with all his shit!!!!!!! Why the hell did none of it get returned if he was never alive in the true reality? Like I know it'll be returned for a new game+ but I like to nitpick game mechanics for story reasons, because one of the things I love most about video games is the experience of them as another layer to the story. The texts from the third semester shouldn’t exist anymore, since they never really existed, but there they are. Akechi insisted that he has a gap in his memory after Shido’s Palace up until seeing Akira on Christmas Eve, but who can say that wasn’t related to Maruki tampering with reality or some other Persona-related reason?

I mean. I got the full and complete True Ending; I saw him in the train station. If that’s not Akechi, then who the fuck is it? Atlus made sure to put the work in to make him a part of not just the main story but also, especially, the third semester, and for what....to have his final time on screen be as the butt of the joke, squished underneath everyone in the Mona-copter? As much as it hurts, his end in Shido’s Palace matters; it fits his character and he gets to go out fighting- carving his own path, really. In Royal, barring the tiny glimpse of someone who’s probably him in the train station, the last we see of him is when he watches Joker let go of the rope to finish off Maruki. I know we got the heart to heart where Akira agrees to reject Maruki’s deal and Akechi insists that he’d rather be dead than live in a false reality, but.....no one even says goodbye to him. It’s tragic, it’s painfully lonely, but it doesn’t feel right for such a major character.

Also, as undignified as it is, for the first time ever, Akechi looks like he actually belongs in the Phantom Thieves in that final moment. He’s never been the butt of their jokes before; they always kept him at arms’ reach and he took himself too seriously to be included, but for that brief moment, it really felt like he was part of their group. He stopped lying about himself for their last month together, and so even if they don’t all like him, they can make that decision based on the truth, instead of layers of lies. His death is all the more tragic for this; a life cut short just when he’s finally finding a place he belongs. But his death was already painful; why make it so, so much worse?

Final thing: I’m gonna be spending a ton of time in the Thieves Den trying to find Akechi’s opinions on everything, but also....hey. HEY. What do those six stars that Jose (probably?) painted on the wall mean? Is it just a reference to Persona 6???? LIKE????? I HAVE QUESTIONS. SO, SO MANY QUESTIONS!!!!

Anyway, I’ve gotta go cry into my Starbucks and desperately try to focus on actually doing my job at work, but I loved Royal deeply and cannot wait to drown in it ;w;

#persona 5 royal #p5r #persona 5 royal spoilers #goro akechi #akeshu #I have just so many Akechi feels I'm sorry #long post #persona 5 royal meta

23 notes · View notes