#god this show was stupid. I wish it didn’t end after season 2 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yourfavouriterival · 4 years ago

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THOMAS SHELBY - answer me

note : i recommend listening to “answer me” from the band’s visit. not because you need it for context but it’s beautiful and sort of gives the mood for this. i also might make a mini-series of this, or a full series, who knows?

warnings : uhh i wanted to write angst so yeah, angst, sadness, unrequited love (or is it????), pain, running away from problems, remembering memories, confusion.

word count : 3410

summary : what happened to their friendship? what remains?

pairing : thomas shelby x female!reader

important : please note that it’s kind of au, as in grace exists but after she, like, ‘betrayed’ them, he didn’t like get together with him, you know? i also haven’t finished the series so if i missed something, dude that’s too bad for me, right? also, some things i simply didn’t want to add because bb please no. so this would sort of be set in the end of season 2, i think.

masterlist

here i am

and the light is dying

Y/N could remember falling in love with Thomas Shelby. A lot of the time, people described it as fast - so fast that they couldn’t recall when it happened. But Y/N could remember every moment, as if a film playing before her eyes when she thought of it. Every happy moment, ever sad moment and everything in between.

It wasn’t easy, either. It wasn’t as though it was a jump to which there was an end. It was more of a constant spiral that was always on the verge of painful and heartbreaking.

She recalled the sacrifices she had to withstand, the things she gave up for the life she lived with the man she loved, the things she gained from the fast and dangerous life she had. And it was odd, in that sense, that she didn’t regret a minute of it. She wouldn’t go back and remove the fights they had about safety, she wouldn’t want to forget the fear he gave her when he didn’t show up for work one day and was thought gone. It made it all work.

Y/N and Thomas had always had a dynamic. From him hiring her as his personal assistant to the first time she got drunk around him, there wasn’t a moment’s hesitation in trust - they relied on each other enough to stay.

But lately, something had changed. He never made plans anymore, he didn’t visit her when he came back from a long trip, he stopped giving her the smiles he had reserved for her. It was all gone in the blink of an eye. He became more secretive, he pulled away and he forced her to leave the office exactly when she ended. He told her to avoid the office at night because “it’s not safe”.

God, she wished she had listened.

It was a cold night when she stumbled along the pavement, heading back to her home where she would most likely promptly pass out. But first, she had to retrieve something from the office. She had left work and gotten halfway to her home and then groaned, realizing she had forgotten her coat and promptly headed back, practically insulting herself in her head - God, she was stupid, forgetful.

She snuck in through the back door, quickly maneuvering to her desk. It was dark, save for the light from outside.

And then she heard it.

where are you?

“Tommy!” It was a girlish shriek, quickly followed by a giggle which caught Y/N’s ear. Interest filled Y/N’s body and she found herself moving towards the window.

She could have collapsed.

will you answer me?

There stood Tommy, her Tommy, with a most breathtaking woman at his side, with a smile that was a rarity to see on the man’s face, holding the goddess bridal-style. He was happy. So overwhelmingly happy and Y/N’s heart broke for the fact that it wasn’t her making him this happy.

She said her Tommy. He wasn’t hers to keep; he wasn’t hers to hold; he wasn’t hers to kiss; he wasn’t hers. And maybe he never was. Maybe all the moments she had thought was something more was simply a moment, nothing more. Simply a friendship that Y/N was over analysing and trying to find answers to questions that were never asked.

Because it sure looked like it.

But looks could be deceiving, right? It didn’t mean anything that he looked at her with a light in his eyes that he used to give Y/N, it didn’t mean anything that she was as beautiful as Venus, it didn’t matter that he kissed her, right?

But it did. And Y/N was frozen in the window, her eyes stuck to their figures swaying together.

So, like the coward she was, she ran. She snuck through the back door once again and hauled herself back down the street, her coat left behind on her desk.

She didn’t even realise it until she got back home, slamming the door shut. But she wasn’t cold, not anymore. She was numb and no longer did she wish to remember each memory with Thomas.

---

Early that next morning, Y/N got dressed. She would like to say that she had got out of bed, when in reality, she had simply sat on her bed for hours until it was her usual time to get up. She hadn’t sat there for nothing, though. She had come up with a plan. She’d even written it down.

On a piece of paper, in a nice font, she had written out a plan. ‘Getting over him’ she had written, choosing not to name who, should anyone go snooping around and find it. The list went:

‘1 - Talk to Thomas about getting some time off - make up a lie.

2 - Go back home to Manchester and stay there for a week.

3 - Remind yourself of the bad things.

4 - Don’t think about him in a positive way.’

That was all she had so far. She wasn’t very good at it. She hadn’t been very thorough, as well, as she stood in front of her work and just didn’t know what to say. She slowly stepped inside, pushing the door open and only then realised that she was unnaturally early.

Not only was the room silent, there were only a few people. She turned to her left when her name was called and she met the eyes of Polly Shelby. “Hello, Polly,” she smiled softly.

“It’s unnaturally early that you’re here,” she raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer to a question she hadn’t asked.

“I–is Thomas here?” She hated the stuttering that fell from her mouth.

“Thomas? What happened to Tom? Or Tommy?” Polly had a teasing smile on her face which quickly melted when she examined the girl in front of her.

“Is he here?” And so she got her answer. When Polly told her where he was, she stumbled over towards the door and knocked, clearing her throat. “It’s me, can I come in?”

all alone

in the quiet

and my ears are thirsty

There was a pause before his voice rumbled out, “yes.” When she stepped in, she felt like a child who was in trouble. She stumbled over to the chair she usually sat in and simply stood behind it, clutching the back of it tightly. He was signing papers, the only sign that he knew she was there being a nod and him clutching the pen slightly differently. He didn’t even look up at her, as if she was insignificant. “I’m quite busy, so, if you’ve come to make plans–”

“I need a few days off,” she fumbled, clearing her throat after she finished. “Just a few days.” She lowered her gaze to the floor, not wanting to look at him even though he didn’t even acknowledge her. “S–so that’s what I’m here to do. T–to ask.”

“Okay,” he said simply, still not looking up. “How long do you need?”

“A week,” she breathed, the shooting pain of being dismissed so carelessly rooting in her heart.

“Okay, be off then,” he droned. Usually, he would ask if everything was, if she needed anything, even simply say goodbye. But instead, he practically pushed her out of the room with his words and she found herself stumbling home.

When had everything changed?

---

“Hey, mama,” Y/N sighed, pulling her mother into a tight hug. She found herself swaying slightly with the force. “Missed you,” she hummed, pulling away.

“Hi, my sweet girl,” her mother smiled softly, cupping her daughter’s jaw before it turned into a frown when she reached forward and pinched her cheeks. “Your face is different. What did you do to it?”

“Mama, I’ve been working,” she laughed.

“What, in the mines?”

“Mama!” Her laugh rang through the house as her mother practically dragged her inside, closing the doors and calling for the help.

Y/N had been very fortunate in her life. She had a big house with all the maids and help she could need. Her father had died in the war and she had been a nurse after he died - he had died in the first year of the war. Her mother built everything back up and lived a lavish life with her new husband, Richard.

When she moved to Birmingham, when she had foolishly fallen for a man and followed him far from home, her mother hadn’t spoken to her for a month. Y/N supposed she deserved it, having fought with her mother the night before she left, ending the conversation with a wish that she wasn’t her mother.

One reason that Y/N and the Shelby family had been so close was because Polly had taken Y/N in when the man she followed left her for another woman. Polly had found her stumbling down the street, sniffling. When Polly had approached, Y/N showed no signs of realization, obviously not knowing of all the Shelby’s and their reputation. Y/N had met Tommy the next day when he pulled a gun on her, thinking she was an intruder.

for your voice

can you answer me?

She wished he would call. She never told him where she was going, but she remembered that he could find out anything he wanted. Like that time when she went back home when her mother suddenly fell ill. She had gotten a call on the phone in the drawing room and was greeted by a scolding from Thomas Shelby.

“I thought you died. You can’t just disappear like that and not tell me where you’re going.”

“I didn’t die, Tommy, I’m fine.”

And that was that. But not anymore. He was probably with that goddess - the one with the soft voice and the laugh of light and a smile of gold. He was most likely loving her the way Y/N wished he’d love her. Perhaps they were domestic, drinking together whilst they read.

Perhaps he was asking her for her hand in marriage.

if i try

maybe i can see your shadow

in the sodium light

that masquerades as moon

“Oh, lord,” she let out in a quiet sigh, sinking into a chair at the dining table, facing her mother.

“Is everything alright, dear?” Her mother’s eyes were filled with worry, something unusual for the woman to display. “Richard will be home in twenty minutes, so we have time.”

“Mama,” Y/N whimpered, dropping her eyes to the floor so that she wouldn’t cry. It was an immediate reaction - her mother rushing to the other side of the table and sitting in the chair set next to Y/N.

“My dear, what’s happened?”

“I shouldn’t have left,” Y/N blurted, a tear practically fleeing her eyes. Once it was gone, the emotions wouldn’t stop. “I wasn’t– I wasn’t here f–for you when you needed me and, mama, I’m so sorry. I can never repay you, mama.”

“Y/N,” her mother cooed, pulling her overwhelmed daughter into her arms and cradling her head. “I’m your mother. You don’t owe me anything, ever, alright, love? Now, drink some water and then tell me why you’re here. I know you don’t just come visit me for no reason.”

Y/N hung her head, only lifting it when her mother tipped her head upwards and pressed the drink against her lips. When she had enough, she took a shaky breath. “When I got to Birmingham, I didn’t really know anyone. And when Jackson left me for another woman, I didn’t really know what to do with myself.” She coughed, swallowing and meeting the eyes of her mother. “I met this woman, Polly, who took me in.”

“And I am ever thankful to that woman,” Y/N’s mother smiled sadly. “She was there for you when I couldn’t.”

“But that was my fault–”

“None of that, Y/N,” her mother scolded. “You had your reasons. That’s okay.”

“I–I met this man,” Y/N smiled, which suddenly turned into a frown. “I think I fell in love with him the moment I met him.”

“And does this man share your affections?”

“No,” Y/N’s eyes fell. Y/N’s mother could see how Y/N’s shoulders sagged, her mood dropped and how her eyes filled with an emotion that Y/N’s mother had only seen when Jackson had left her. “I–I thought that perhaps he did, but he–” she paused, taking a shaky breath. “I thought that all the moments together meant something more, something important. But he started pulling away and then–”

“You saw him with a woman,” Y/N’s mother finished off. At her daughter’s confused look, Y/N’s mother simply shrugged. “The face you wear right now is the same face you wore when you told me what that Jackson boy did.”

“Oh,” Y/N whispered. Perhaps her mother had known the entire time. Perhaps every letter Y/N had written to her mother had been full of her affection towards Tommy; perhaps she had given too much away and it was easy to understand. Perhaps Tommy knew; perhaps he wanted to lead her on so he could break her heart–

“Dear, I’m home!” Richard’s voice shook Y/N from her thoughts. As she and her mother stood to greet him, she couldn’t help but glance at the silent phone.

very soon

that’s the sound of longing

---

Y/N lay awake in bed that night. A week had passed and she would be on her way back that night. She was stuck in her memories, her mind replaying it in front of her eyes like a film.

It had been a quiet night, a few moments before she was off to bed when there was a meek knock on the door. She flew up from her bed, clutching the robe she was wearing closer to her and moving towards the front door.

“Tom?” Y/N had flung the door open without care. “What’s happened? Are you okay?”

She remembered how Tommy had walked through the door and closed it before he collapsed into her arms. She had immediately sunk to the floor, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

“Tom?” Her voice had been a whisper, a memory to her ears.

“I can’t do it anymore,” he had breathed into her chest.

“Can’t do what?”

But he had never answered. So, instead, she had sat there for almost twenty minutes, simply breathing with him until he relaxed in her arms. That night she had led him to her bed, placing a blanket over his body before she ventured out into the living room and slept there. When she woke, there had been no trace of him ever being there - it was as if he was a ghost. The following day, the previous night wasn’t mentioned and it seemed as though he wanted to forget that the entire incident had ever happened.

are you there?

will you answer me?

Or in another time, she had simply been at the office, doing her job when he had stumbled into the building, half-asleep and asked her to ‘go on home’ to which she had refused. Instead, she led him to his office and told him to sit down whilst she went and made him a cup of tea. They didn’t talk much, simply sat there and felt the presence of one another for a while. After some time had passed, she stood up and walked around his desk and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head before she let herself out, taking their empty tea cups to the kitchen before finally heading home.

in my dreams

my beloved lies beside me

Y/N had a reoccurring dream. She would find herself standing outside of a lavish house, with windows as tall as the ceiling and with a door so heavy that it took energy to push it. She would walk inside and see two kids, a girl and a boy, both with blue eyes that reminded her awfully of someone. She’d venture upwards and come into a bedroom where Thomas fucking Shelby was laying on the bed, reading a book to another child - a girl who was the spitting image of him.

But she always woke up.

when the sun light the room

i find it’s only me

---

Y/N found herself wishing to stay in her mother’s home for longer, and telling her mother that she wanted to stay was over in a matter of seconds. Now, all that was left was calling her actual workplace and telling Tommy - or whoever answered the damn phone - that she was staying.

Once she had been patched through to Tommy’s office, she waited patiently for someone to answer the phone. “Hello?”

It was that voice. That woman. The one with the beautiful smile and the perfect voice and the body that Y/N could only dream about and–

“Hello?” The woman repeated the question with a slight confusion present in her voice. “Is anybody there?”

“Y–yeah,” Y/N coughed slightly. “Sorry. Hello, my name is Y/N Y/L/N, is Tom– Thomas Shelby there?”

“No, he’s out right now,” she answered softly - her voice was softer than a feather and Y/N found herself - hatefully - entranced. “Can I take a message for Tom?”

Tom. She called him Tom. For the entirety of Y/N and Tom’s friendship - or whatever it was - she had been one of the only people ever to call him Tom. Now, this woman of gold and beauty called him that and she wasn’t sure that Tom would ever want to hear Y/N’s voice saying his name again. “Uh, yeah,” Y/N spoke softly, as if she was trying to mimic her voice as she cursed herself for being so scattered. “Could you tell him that I need another week off?”

“Of course–” the woman suddenly stopped. “Oh, there he is now! I’ll tell him, alright?”

“Yeah, a–alright,” Y/N swallowed.

But just before hanging up, she heard Tom– no, Thomas’ voice. “Hello, love, miss me?”

---

only me

only you when the sun is gone

only me

only me when the moon is

It felt like she was all alone when she walked around the house. Her mother and Richard had decided to go out to the nearest town for a couple of days, leaving Y/N alone in a huge house with complete freedom and only the maids to keep her company.

It was more peaceful than she could have imagined. It was so quiet - but that also meant that she was alone with her thoughts.

She remembered when she was growing up and would sneak out of the house at night to meet boys who gave her fleeting looks and equally fleeting kisses in the dark because she thought that was what love was. And then she would come home and lay in bed for hours, thinking about if she ever really knew what love was.

She used to think that love was stronger than heartbreak, but after watching her mother fall apart after her father died and even more so when Y/N had left. But she thought that maybe love would prevail, seeing the happiness in her mother and Richard’s relationship and feeling the glee from her friendship with the Shelbys.

But she now knew that love doesn’t last forever. Neither does happiness.

with the world

all around me

with the world around me

The world didn’t revolve around Y/N. It never had and it never would, and that was something that she had to realise. No number of foolish dreams would give her what she wanted because that’s just the way the world works. There’s nothing one can do when something isn’t going one’s way because one can’t control anything.

The world wouldn’t stop for Y/N. It wouldn’t stop for her broken heart, it wouldn’t stop for a seemingly broken friendship - it wouldn’t stop.

And suddenly, that was okay.

only you

when the sun and moon and stars are gone

all that’s left is only you

Soon, she would return to Small Heath, return to her life of working for the man she loved.

will you answer me?

And soon, she would be okay with that.

answer me?

#thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x you #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby angst #angst

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floralseokjin · 4 years ago

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final sleigh drabble #2

❛ it’s Christmas day night...❜

original oneshot here // drabble index here

kim seokjin x reader smut 4,179 words

It was Christmas Day night. You’d spent most of yesterday and today at Ana’s parents’ house. It was different to how your own family celebrated the occasion but lovely, nonetheless. Her family always made you feel welcome, no matter the instance, and you were really grateful that they’d let you spend Christmas with them, like you’d already said, because your parents were spending the holiday season abroad.

Now, just gone eight, you and Ana were getting out of an Uber outside a familiar house. Seokjin and Yoongi’s. You hadn’t seen your co-worker, since the weekend. The weekend of nonstop sex. You’d only parted because he had a train to catch, promising his mom he’d visit for a few of days before Christmas Eve. The sex had been so good it had taken him a while to remember said plans actually, and when he had, he’d unbelievably tried getting out of them just so he could stay and fuck you even more.

“You want to ditch your mom to continue getting your dick wet?” You asked him with severe judgment, both of you naked in your bed. It was Sunday morning. Yes, that was correct. He’d stayed over practically 48 hours nailing you over and over again. And then some.

“Don’t say it like that,” he whined, feeling instantly guilty. “I just don’t want to leave you. I’m having too much fun.”

“We can still have fun when you get back.” You murmured suggestively, running a hand down his chest. You were not ready to give this all up quite yet…

With a raised eyebrow, he seemed intrigued. “Even more fun than right now?”

“We can try.”

You hadn’t known if it was possible, the weekend had been very fun to say the least, but who knew. You’d definitely give it your all...

You’d spent the last few days messaging each other sporadically, but there hadn’t been too much conversation. You mean, you’d never talked a lot before the sex, so why would you start after it? But seeing his face right now, as he opened the door, you practically beamed.

“Merry Christmas, ladies,” he grinned, outstretching his arm to gesture you both to step inside.

Admittedly, you weren’t expecting him to invite you over tonight. He’d been back since Friday but you hadn’t made plans to meet again yet so when he’d text you this afternoon, asking if you and Ana would like to come hang out with Yoongi and him, you’d been surprised. Excited, yet surprised, but obviously you’d played it cool.

Ana had been a little reluctant. She had slept with Yoongi a couple of weeks ago after all – and hadn’t seen him since. But, obviously Seokjin had run this idea by him? They’d both decided it together, right? So it was fine. Plus, she needed to support her best friend. If she wanted you to get boned again, she needed to come! You couldn’t turn up on your own. Not that she needed much convincing after the initial unwilling... Secretly you thought she was hoping for a round two with Seokjin’s best friend... Who knew, maybe he was too...

Ana stepped in first and as you followed Seokjin pulled out a small piece of mistletoe from behind his back. He held it up between you both, taking you by surprise. A good surprise though. “Oh,” you uttered, wasting no time in reacquainting your mouths.

“He’s been planning this all day.” It was Yoongi’s voice, coming from somewhere ahead of you, but you both ignored him, kissing just a little longer.

Ana scoffed. “Surely no planning was needed. It’s holding up some mistletoe.”

“Mmm. I missed you,” Seokjin hummed, breaking away to snake an arm around your middle.

“I missed you too,” you grinned, aware Seokjin was dialling up the amount of yuck to piss your two friends off.

“Jesus, you guys.” Yoongi sounded like he was about to be sick. “I preferred it when she hated you.”

Seokjin turned to the other guy, sounding vaguely annoyed. “She never hated me. It was a misunderstanding.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, man,” Yoongi chuckled. “Ana, let’s leave them to it. I’ll get you a drink.”

You watched as they walked off together, towards the kitchen. Seokjin was the first to turn back to you, an eyebrow raised. “How much do you wanna bet they end up hooking up again?”

You were both on the same wavelength. It was obvious something was going to happen. “She hogged the entire bathroom getting ready.”

“Have fun, you guys,” Seokjin sang as Yoongi and Ana made a less that inconspicuous exit from the living room. It was three hours later. They’d lasted well, but obviously the need to get in on again had won.

Seokjin turned to you immediately, sat next to you on the sofa and gave you a wolfish grin. “Finally, we’re alone.”

You were no sooner in his lap, mouth glued to his. Moving your ass a little as you broke apart for a much needed breath, you felt the familiar impression of his erection. “You’re hard already?” You raised a judgmental eyebrow.

“Why do you sound so shocked?” He questioned indignantly. “My dick has missed you insanely.”

“Just your dick?”

It was a playful remark, you didn’t mean anything by it, but Seokjin lowered his gaze, giving you a small chuckle. Instead of answering he kissed you again, his tongue pushing its way inside your mouth as his hands gripped your ass and rubbed you against his groin. Instant pleasure zapped up your body and it wasn’t long before you were grinding on your own accord, fists clutching his white t-shirt, which you had to admit, outlined his chest perfectly – You’d been trying not to stare all night.

“Do you want to go upstairs too?” He panted against your neck, teeth nipping the flesh sharply and you bit back a moan. He was already so tuned into what you liked. “I really need to fuck you.” Pulling back to get your answer he saw the look on your face. “What’s that face for?”

“It’s turning into a sex party,” you moaned. You couldn’t all be having sex upstairs, it seemed... You couldn’t think of the word.

“An orgy?” Seokjin wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Behave.” You needed more people to turn it into an orgy.

Seokjin’s mouth was back on your neck, kissing down your throat, to your collarbones and he sunk his teeth into the thin skin gently, causing your breath to hitch. “Well, do you wanna fuck down here?”

His dick was so hard underneath you, you rubbed against it some more, despite your objections. “No! What if one of them catches us?”

“Don’t be stupid. Yoongi is definitely balls deep by now.”

You whacked his back and he yelped in surprise. “That’s my best friend you’re talking about.”

“I didn’t say who or what he was balls deep in.” His reply didn’t impress you and so he grumbled. “I wish I was balls deep in you right now... Don’t give me that look, it turns me on when you’re pissy.”

Unable to stop your grin, you leaned in. “You must be constantly turned on at work then.” Pressing your lips into his, you bit down on his bottom lip. His hiss soon turned into a moan – and then a whine.

“Let’s take this upstairs. There’s a bathroom between our bedrooms. It won’t be like our headboards are hitting the wall in rhythm.”

“Fine.” You couldn’t hold out much longer anyway, and you both made your way upstairs, yelping loudly when Seokjin slapped your ass. You glare didn’t do much to discourage him, laughing loudly as he wrapped his arms around your middle and directed you to the door to his bedroom.

“At least they’re being considerate and playing music,” he said, the music loud enough to block any other noise going on inside Yoongi’s bedroom... Thank God.

“I feel like I’m back at college,” you whined as you stepped inside Seokjin’s room.

“Huh? Did you and Ana make a habit of hooking up at the same time? Hot.”

You pushed his arm. “No.” Chuckling, he made his way to the bed, sitting on the end, but you were too preoccupied with checking out his room. It was a lot larger than you imagined, walls cream, some covered in artwork. His computer was the main attraction, multiple screens, an unnecessarily large gaming chair and some other things you weren’t familiar with, mainly character figurines. His bed cover was a grey check pattern, a throw draped over the end with a couple of cushions against the headboard. Very clean.

“Your room’s cute,” you commented.

“Cute?”

“Yeah.” Turning to look at him you smiled playfully. “So, I guess this is where you jerk your dick to fantasies of me.”

He scoffed. “I don’t need to fantasise anymore. I have memories stored away in the wank bank.” Tapping his temple with his index finger he looked more than impressed with himself.

“Gross!” You cried.

“Come here,” he groaned, fed up with stalling, and he leaned over and grabbed you, causing you to squeal. “Or are you just planning on being a cocktease the whole night?” The sound wasn’t like you – but Seokjin had become good at making you act in ways you weren’t used to so far...

Which is why you found yourself on your knees for him, sucking his dick, his jeans and underwear around his ankles. “Your mouth is fucking magic,” he grunted, head falling back, his perfect, thick neck on show as you glanced up. You felt the urge to take him deeper, pushing him closer and closer to the back of your throat, ignoring any noises of reluctance it made.

“Fuck.” Seokjin choked, his fingers running through your hair to collect it in his fists. “That’s it. Take it all.” He pushed his hips up, stuffing your mouth for a few gloriously unbearable seconds before easing up. You lifted off, half of his dick still in your mouth as you caught your breath. He looked down at you with half-lidded eyes that seemed to eat you up. “Do you like choking on my cock?”

Nope. He was not doing this. It was infuriating what his words did to you, and you immediately swallowed him again, ignoring the way your underwear stuck to your damp skin. He was going to have a field day when he felt you...

Gasping for air not soon after, you had no choice but to pull off him entirely, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You were drenched in spit, so was his cock. You watched him kick off his clothing, naked from the waist down and you made moves to follow, reaching for your shirt and pulling it over your head.

“Let me see those tits. I’ve missed them.” He murmured, and you complied, unhooking your bra to reveal yourself to him. His eyes instantly glazed over. Confidently, you cupped the soft flesh in your palms, massaging yourself, putting on a show, and as your thumbs brushed the hardened peaks that were your nipples he practically growled. “Oh, fuck. You want to end me.”

Laughing, you stood up, pushing your skirt off your hips, leaving you in just your tights and panties. He followed with his t-shirt, now fully naked. You’d never get enough of his body. “Come up here,” he whined. “Let me taste them.”

Sat in his lap, you let him grope you, his mouth making out with your chest like it could kiss back. The sensation was so intense you quickly became weak at the knees and you clung to his neck, grinding against his thighs like nobody’s business. Unable to take it any longer, his hands slipped behind you, into your underwear, and he felt the silky fabric with a groan. Soon enough he was wrestling with your pantyhose again.

“These fucking things. What the fuck. You’re doing it on purpose now.”

“Am not,” you insisted. (Maybe you were). “I need to keep my legs warm.” With a furious tug you heard a rip and looking down you saw his damage. “Seokjin! You laddered them!”

“Ugh. Just get them fucking off already, I need to feel you.”

Asshole, but wet and desperate you quickly pulled then off, giving Seokjin a great view of your ass in the process. The underwear you had on had a cut-out at the top of your ass, revealing a “cleavage” of sorts. He seemed to appreciate the sight very much, giving you a playful smack and now you were very confused. Was he an ass man like you’d originally thought, or a tits guy? He was probably both. Greedy.

You slipped the panties off too, settling back down in Seokjin’s lap, who instantly started running his fingers over your heat. You pulsed against him, desperate for some stimulation.

“I swear to God you get wet so easily.”

Says the guy who’d grown hard from a kiss? Okay... “Are you complaining?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. It’s stroking my ego.”

“Your massive ego.”

“Behave, or I won’t fuck you with my massive dick.” Okay, now he was just bragging. His smirk was annoying you. He looked way too sexy.

You were expecting him to finger you for a bit, make sure you were stretched out enough for him, but all he did was dip his fingertips into your entrance, content with what he’d felt and then he was shuffling out from under your body to grab a condom from his bedside drawer.

“God. I want to fuck you so much,” he muttered a few moments later, sliding the latex over his length as you securely sat on top of him again. You kissed him sloppily, letting him angle the head of his cock against your entrance. Impatiently, you pushed down, surprising yourself – and him – when you took him whole.

You sat there, both breathing heavily as you started to adjust to him, walls clamping down like no tomorrow, which must have been torture for Seokjin, if his expression was anything to go by.

“Shit. You got tighter,” he panted, reaching for your mouth again, trying to calm himself with kisses. You attempted to do the same, beginning to slowly grind back and forth, getting used to the full feeling. It wasn’t painful, just a little uncomfortable, but you were no longer scared of his monster cock. You’d had a fair few goes last weekend and you were now a near enough pro, so without further ado, you started moving for real. Up, until he was almost out of you and then down, slamming into him. You just about knocked the air out of Seokjin’s lungs, but he soon steeled himself, grabbing the tops of your thighs to keep you safe as you started bouncing up and down, riding his dick like it was the easiest thing in the world. In this moment, it was.

Seokjin started groaning pretty quickly, his jaw clenched as he watched your every movement, his chest and neck patched with red. You clung to his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as you flung yourself back.

“Shit. Y/N!” He panicked, hands coming out to hold your lower back, afraid you were going to fall backwards off the bed. You were still sat on the edge after all, but of course he was strong enough to hold you tight, letting you lean back as far as possible to fuck yourself along his cock, the squelchy, sticky noise music to his ears.

“Mmm. I missed this cunt so much,” he moaned.

You wanted to tell him he was being a big baby, it had only been a few days but his vulgar words were having the desired effect on you yet again. You were like putty in his hands, especially when he started thrusting into you, meeting your movements with a thud. “I want you to cum on my dick.”

Fuck. You were so close, his words only helping, but by now you were getting tired; out of breath and sweaty. “Seokjin—!” You moaned, voice breaking at the second syllable, and you leaned forward, collapsing into his chest.

“Take it easy,” he murmured, hands dragging up your sweaty back. “Want me to take over?”

You grinned drunkenly. “No way, I’m enjoying myself too much.”

Seokjin chuckled, pressing his mouth into yours. “Make yourself cum.” He whispered against you, thrusting into you still as he grabbed your ass, digging his fingers into the flesh. “You can do it, Y/N. Grind on me like you mean it. Grind all over me.”

You listened, rutting into each one of his thrusts, holding on for dear life as your sensitive clit rubbed against his groin. You were both so sweaty and hot, your fingers sliding down his back, unable to grip on until you dug your nails into the skin. He hissed, thrusting into you harder. It seemed like Seokjin liked a little pain, too...

“Baby, go a little faster,” he panted, kissing your neck, and you sped up, grinding into him messily, chasing your high like something possessed. You were so turned on, so sensitive, it only took a couple more minutes, a strangled cry leaving you as you tensed in his arms, your orgasm rocketing up your body. “Ngh, fuck. Fuck.”

Seokjin stopped his thrusts, letting you gradually come down, and soon enough your body relaxed, almost turning into goo as the pleasure warmed its way all throughout you. You lifted your head up, staring Seokjin straight in the eyes, both of you panting like crazy, and without a word he lifted you, flipping you over, your back to his mattress before he crawled over you. He wasn’t done yet – and neither were you.

As he pushed inside you again, his hand found its way around your throat and he looked down at you carefully. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, voice hoarse as you replied. “Yeah.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked or done this – last weekend had been a lot, you still weren’t over it, and right now you were still so horny and desperate for him. You also really liked the feeling of his grip around your neck as he fucked you.

“Fuck,” you breathed, feeling him start to thrust harder, faster, his palm tightening around your neck a little. You folded your legs at the knees and widened them, wanting him as deep as possible.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he grunted, kissing your mouth in a frenzy, all tongue and teeth. His whole body was pressed into yours, pushing you into the mattress, his pelvis beginning to rub against your mound. You were still a little sensitive from your first orgasm, but you could already feel yourself a little needy for another. If he kept this up he’d have you coming again, and he knew by the way you started to meet each one of his thrusts, moans starting to slip from your throat – louder and louder. You hoped Yoongi still had his music on...

“S-seokjin,” you stammered, hands sprawled across his back as you felt that familiar sensation again. “I’m going to–ngh–”

He moaned in reply, pushing into your harder, using his pelvis to get you off, and you held your breath, willing your orgasm to come. Your walls clenched around him, making it harder and harder for him to drag his cock inside of you, but he fought it, continuing with gritted teeth until he heard you cry out, your body stiffening under his.

It wasn’t as strong as your last orgasm, but seemed to knock you for six, heady dizzy as you felt Seokjin kiss down your chest, slipping out of you carefully. His tongue circled one of your nipples, his hand cupping the other breast as he groaned softly. His erection bobbed against your inner thigh.

“Coming on my cock twice. You’re amazing.” He awed, lifting his head up to smile at you. He sounded drunk. You felt drunk.

“Well, I do try.” You joked, voice soft.

He chuckled, and then his voice grew serious, eyes large and black, still very much turned on. “Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

It was pretty obvious, his dick burning a hole against your leg. “Your cum.”

His eyes widened, obviously not expecting you to be so upfront, and you took great pleasure in that.

“Where?” He whispered. He didn’t bother to wait for your reply. “Mouth? Can I come in your mouth,” he asked.

Your stomach dipped with urgent need, and you nodded your head rapidly. “Yeah.”

He sat up instantly, moving to kneel over your face. He tugged the condom off, jerking himself off a couple of times before his eyes met yours. “Tongue out.” You obeyed, keeping your eyes open as the weight of his cock pressed against your tongue. “Good girl.”

Okay, that was new. He hadn’t called you that last week, and instantly you felt your gut squeeze. You sucked the tip of his cock, eager now for him to cum in your mouth. As you did so, he started jerking himself off, eyes fluttering closed as his head lolled back, Adam’s apple bobbing slowly. His movements grew quicker, matching his breathing and then he hissed, body tensing up.

“Fuckkk.” A couple of drops of cum landed against your tongue and you swallowed them, ready for more. You sucked him for all he was worth, your gaze never leaving his face, and even once he was done, you kept on lapping him with your tongue, digging the tip across the slit.

He shuddered, making a strained noise and he pulled back, his cock falling out of your mouth. “Shit. I’m sensitive,” he laughed, collapsing next to you. You were both out of breath and sweaty, but wholeheartedly satisfied.

“That’s gotta be the best yet?” You asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“I think you may be right.” He agreed, pushing his hair out of his eyes, exposing his forehead. You wanted to reach over and kiss him, but you stopped yourself. “You were riding dick like a pornstar.”

“Shut up,” you whined, pushing his shoulder. How embarrassing.

Laughing at your reaction, he sat up, propping himself up with his elbow. “If you want the bathroom I have one over there.”

You followed his thumb to a door on the right of his room. “An en suite? Very fancy.”

Seokjin shrugged. “Yoongi has the main bathroom, so.” You didn’t move, tired more than anything, peeing could probably wait. Seokjin’s brows furrowed together. “Are you okay though?”

“Of course,” you laughed. “I feel fricking amazing. I’ll be sad once this ends.”

As soon as you said the words you felt funny. Seokjin looked surprised, voice low with... what was it, concern? “Who says it has to end? Do you want it to?”

“...No,” you answered after a pause.

Truthfully you didn’t want it to end just yet, you were enjoying yourself, you were just unsure of what was happening between the two of you... You’d both confessed something back at the office last week but you were still uncertain what exactly it was. What had you been expecting? To fuck once and then that would be it? You liked having sex with Seokjin, it was fun, and you liked his company (most of the time). You liked him. He liked you. Maybe you didn’t need to put an expiry date on this thing. It was fine to see where it went. You didn’t need to turn it into a big deal. You didn’t need an outright answer for everything. It was fine to just live in the moment.

“I don’t either,” Seokjin smiled, looking mildly relieved by your answer.

“I just... when work starts back we won’t have much time to meet up like this.”

“I’ll make time, trust me.” He kissed you then, hovering over you, lips warm and soft, a far cry from earlier, and the thought made you giggle.

“What?” He asked bemused.

“You know, you turn pretty demanding when you get horny.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Like, bossy and all, I don’t know, domineering.” You shrugged, feeling a little awkward. “It’s hot.”

He smiled, chuckling softly as he kissed you again, a hand cupping your face. “It’s not too much?” He murmured.

He didn’t sound surprised by your revelation so something told you he was aware of how he acted. Which made it even hotter, to be honest.

“I like it.” You told him, biting down on your bottom lip.

Eyes darkening, he hummed, his gaze running down your body. “So how about I tell you to spread those gorgeous legs so I can eat dessert?”

You repressed the urge to laugh out loud. Dessert?! He was such an idiot. “Right now?”

“Yes. Right now.” Then he paused, rubbing his nose against yours, his tone softening. “Yeah?”

With a massive grin, you spread your legs. “Be my guest.”

A third orgasm? You weren’t going to turn that down.

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin smut #bts smut #seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:final sleigh #final sleigh:drabbles

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mah-gah-lee · 4 years ago

Text

because i love you too, you dork ! - (charlie gillespie x reader)

GIF by @damnthedark

Word Count: 2320 words

Summary: Charlie and you were friends for a year now. When he asked you to come to live with Owen and him, you realized you’re having feeling for him. You try to denied but Owen noticed.

Warnings: I don’t think there’s tw in this one.

A/N: So that's it ! My first "x-reader". As some of you already know, I was really scared to post this. Be kind please, my first language is french.

disclaimer: I don't know Charlie or Owen personally or what their life are like. All you will read in this "x reader" is from my imagination. My point is not to invade Charlie's privacy. I don't want to offend him or offend anybody else in his life. This is just me, writing innocently about a boy I find totally pure. All this is not reality

Tagged: @asdfghjkl-allthethings

__________________________________________________

Living with Charlie and Owen wasn't that difficult. They were kind, smiling boys, funny, a bit charming. The only thing that really bothered you, other than that tower of recyclable waste in your apartment; that you (or the boys) must to throw away for ages now, were your growing feelings for the blue-eyed brunette. And you weren't ready to admit it out loud. You didn't know how you fell in love with him so quickly but you did and since the day you realized your feelings, things got a little more different at times in the way you both behaved.

Charlie and you met about a year ago at a festival. You went there for your birthday and some of your friends made you wear this giant crown balloon and scarf saying "out of my way. Birthday girl". Charlie didn't follow the instructions, he walked right up to you with his beautiful, chaotic energy, wished you a happy birthday, and gave you a Canada keychain. You didn't know him but you laughed so hard as you thanked him. You both introduced each other and he offered you a drink - for your birthday -. Since that day you have become close friends and next, best friends.

When Charlie offered you to come live with him while he was shooting JATP season 2, you doubted. Your apartment lease was coming to an end and you had just finished your studies. It was not the right time. But Charlie convinced you. Money was no problem; the rent was split between him and Owen. You can easily live in the third bedroom while participating in daily expenses like food, for example or helping with the cleaning thing. And then you accepted his offer and the great adventure began.

…

"Y / n, have you seen my… oh". At the moment he opened the door, you screamed. Charlie was the clumsiest boy you've ever lived with.

"Boundaries!" you said by putting a towel around you, even if you already worn your underwear.

Your best friend came out of the bathroom without a word or a look to you, heading to the living room where Owen was playing a game.

“You just walked in while she was changing, didn’t you?” the blonde guy said, mocking his friend.

“Yeah, I didn’t know she was so…undressed”

Owen looked at his roommate with a raised eyebrow. “She was in the bathroom you dork!”

Charlie scratched the back of his head, feeling embarrassed

“Yeah, I should have known that.”

You chose that moment to leave the bathroom and run towards the boys, drying your hair with a terry towel.

"I swear to God, Charlie. If you weren't so hot, you would be dead already."

Charlie looked at you, confused. His cheeks are about to turn crimson. You were dressed but the young man could clearly see a few drops of water running from your neck to the neckline of your tank top. All the things he can thought was damn, when did y/n get hot? While waiting for a response from him, you noticed his eyes sunk deep into your cleavage. It made you blush but you didn’t want he knows about. Flirt was your best respond.

"Do you like the view, Gillespie?" A smile hanging on your lips.

If Charlie could be redder than he already was, he would probably look like a giant tomato.

“I-I-I got to go… Have you seen my jacket? I lost my keys and I think they’re in there…”

You rolled your eyes and pointed to the coat rack.

“Where do you think the coats are stored?” you asked him “Thanks God, you both have me in this house." You added, watching your two friends.

Charlie looked at you with his stupid silly smile and rushed into the lobby, grabbing his jacket before retracing his steps and kissed you on the cheek.

"Thanks honey, you're the best". He slammed the door, you frosted.

Now, who's that giant tomato?

“You can’t be that obvious.” You turned to face Owen, who is sitting on the couch, his arms crossed over the back of the sofa.

Becoming friends with Owen had been so easy, you really appreciate his humor, he was so kind and caring, it seemed like you were friends from the start. He meant a real close friend to you now as much as your kindergarten friends.

“What?” you said with a misunderstood look to your friend but the blonde one didn’t say a word and it made you feel so uncomfortable “stop looking at me like that. What’s on your mind?”

Again, he kept eyes on you, without speaking, just a smirk on his lips

“Owen!”

And here we go again, the smirk was bigger than ever. Owen was so proud of himself, getting you out of your hinges. He finally decided to speak, his eyes looking at you playfully

“When were you going to tell me, you have that crush on Charlie?” Your cheeks were crimson but you weren't ready to confess your feelings for Charlie. Even though Owen was the nicest man you've ever known, let alone the brown-haired guy who lived with you and you fell in love with, obviously. Owen was Charlie's best friend and if you told him he was right he would probably tell Charlie about it. And you didn't want that.

“We’re just…friends” you knew that was kind a lie.

Your feelings for the brunette were so obvious, that wasn’t surprising Owen noticed. Your friend rolled his eyes with another smirk on his mouth. He knew you’ll deny even if he could prove you, he’s right. No need to insist so he gave up.

“if you say so”

…

You were invited by Owen and Charlie to Madison’s birthday party on set. You didn't know the cast so well but your roommates didn't want you to be alone at the apartment tonight while they were having fun. So, you ended up here, holding a non-alcoholic drink in your hand, watching your favorites boys and Jeremy doing that stupid -and dangerous- Dirty Dancing Figure. Figure they also put in the season one of Julie and The Phantoms, this time, it was Charlie on top. Your best friend came right to you, so proud of himself.

"Did you see that ?!" he said, way too enthusiastic

“I saw that. And when you’ll crashed your head to the ground, I will NOT be playing nurse for you.”

Charlie gave you a confused look and you rolled your eyes. Of course, you loved Dirty Dancing so much but you had also watched so many videos of the boys trying to do this lift again and each time your heart skipped a beat seeing them miss something and ALMOST DIE! Every fucking times.

"Come on, y / n, don't be mad… let's have fun!" Won't you come viiiibing with me?”

And Charlie did his weird dance moves, your whole face saying that you wanted to laugh so hard. You pursed your lips not to smile but you couldn't suppress it. The song changed and it was like the universe was by Charlie's side. You loved ABBA so much and had watched both films so many times that it was impossible to you to not dance to this song. You sighed, exasperated but amused before putting your drink down and joining him. Your two bodies danced to the music, improvising a kind of choreography. You didn't care if you two looked stupid, you were having so much fun. You felt light, euphoric when you were around Charlie, he made you happy and you knew, you knew that was one of the reasons you were in love with him. Charlie was holding your hands, spinning you, making you dancing and when the song ended you were in his arms with your head back. He got you back on your feet and you bit your lip. Your heart was racing, your breathing was jerky, breathless. God you loved him. Her beautiful blue eyes caught yours and you could swear you saw them ripped from your lips before returning to your eyes. You were both there and for some strange reason you were ready to kiss him. But it did not happen. Your courage flew away and you regained your composure as Charlie acted as if nothing had happened. Madison yelled for Charlie to come over and you walked back to the table where your drink was, Owen now by your side.

“Just friends, ugh? Say it again without lying now.” Owen told you, with his annoying smirking smile.

If your eyes could kill, your roommate would be as much of a ghost as his own character was. He knew he was right and it was delicious to see you almost kiss your best friend in front of the whole cast. It was impossible to deny now.

“Oh, bites me Owen” you just said with a slightly annoyed tone in your voice, making him laugh.

…

After that night you did your best to avoid Charlie as much as you could. You can't deny that seeing the sadness in his eyes when you refused to come on set with him was beyond painful. You hated yourself for making him miserable.

But Charlie was a smart boy, or at least smart enough to trap you in a corner so that you could chat one on one. He asked Owen to convince you to come on set, claiming Charlie wouldn't be there - and you were stupid enough to believe it ... Owen was an actor, and a good one, after all -.

You were watching Madison perform her scene with Owen when you felt a hand slide lightly across your hips. You held your breath as your best friend's slipped behind your ear in a whisper.

"Please y / n, can we talk?"

This was neither the place nor the time to make a scene. Ironic for a tv show set. Defeated, you nodded and Charlie slipped his hand into yours, pulled you off the set. He took you to one of your favorite settings: the garage. So it was away from Julie's bedroom where Owen and Madison were still filming. He didn't bend over backwards to start the discussion as you rubbed your arms, ashamed of the situation.

"What's going on, you've been avoiding me since Madi's birthday"

You couldn't stop staring at your feet, you had to focus on everything except his beautiful eyes.

"You wouldn't understand, please Char," let me go. " you mumbled

" No ... Not until you tell me why you are ruining our friendship "

Hearing this from him was unbearable and it made you lose patience. You wanted the exact opposite of what he was telling you. Your friendship was too important to you, you didn't want to spoil it with your stupid feelings.

" I'm not! I'm just trying to save it.” You exploded.

“Bullshit. Just for the record, you're not doing so well. So, why are you avoiding me?"

Tears were about to dropped out of your face. You hated that. You hated the fact you were stuck in this whole situation. Tears were about to dropped out of your face. Two solutions were available to you: to lose him by confessing your feelings to him. Or lose him with the possibility that he hates you, thinking you were just a heartless bitch.

“So? I am waiting…”

Although he looked annoyed, Charlie seemed to mellow. His hand released a section of your hair, then his fingers circled your cheek, which instinctively nestled from his touch.

"You know you can tell me anything"

You took a deep breath, once again, defeated. Was that the end of your friendship? Should it end like this? Your heart was preparing to be broken.

"You make me want things that I can't have ..."

Charlie tilted his head towards you, forcing you to look him in the eye as your tears threatened to fall at any moment.

"Why do you say that. What did I do?"

But the words no longer left your throat, you were paralyzed by the fear of finally confessing everything to him.

“Y/N, please tell me”

His thumb was drawing circles on your cheek in the hope of comforting you. You gathered for a moment, giving yourself all the courage, you needed before the words left your mouth.

"I am in love with you."

Silence fell like a cleaver. And that's it, it was over. Charlie was probably going to tell you that it wasn't reciprocal. But instead, your best friend's laughter echoed through the room, making your eyes widen.

"Is that all?" he asked. "This is why you're avoiding me?"

Your forehead creased and the tears that burned your eyes grew angry. You had expected anything but hearing him laugh. Your friendship was shattered and Charlie was laughing. How not to be mad at him after that?

"Didn't you hear what I said to you? Why are you laughing?"

And his laughter redoubled before stopping dead. Charlie put a big smile on his lips, happier than ever.

"Because I love you too, you dork!"

Your eyes widened and Charlie's laughter redoubled once more. Delicately, he grabbed your face and kissed you. Your heart exploded at his touch. The feel of his lips on yours was divine. Your hands crept through her hair. They were longer for this second season. You deepened the kiss until you had to recatch your breath. Charlie's smile leaving your lips dazzled the room.

"Can you please stop avoiding me and be my girlfriend?" he asked maliciously.

You pursed your lips to suppress a smile, but it was a failure. You were unable to hide your feelings now. You nodded and Charlie kissed you again. Your friendship was not ruined. It was just evolving into a love story that you didn't expect.

#jatp imagines #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #julie and the phantoms #jatp #owen patrick joyner

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mindibindi · 3 years ago

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Beyond disappointed in Ted Lasso. What were they thinking?!

The writing is a complete betrayal and insult to Rebecca’s character and Hannah’s skills as they’re being seriously underused. It’s also insulting Sam’s character.

Hoping someone pulls Rebecca’s head out of her ass tbh. Sam shouldn’t be getting caught in the crossfire of her looking for romance. I know he showed up at her doorstep but she still should’ve turned him away, and not even messaged him in the first place.

Hey, I'm with you, Anon, though we do seem to be in the minority. Sam is definitely not blameless here, he is also in the wrong. But if one of them is more in the wrong, it is Rebecca. I can't speak to whether her head has left her arse as yet because I have quit watching (at least for now). I hear she called it off with Sam in the most recent ep, though not because of any major crisis of conscience or because anyone in her inner circle expressed any reasonable reservations in response to her bad behaviour. And to be honest, I'm not sure we should need to hope and pray that Rebecca's precocious god-daughter, her slimy ex-husband, or the brutal British press will act as a moral compass on this ill-advised relationship. Both Rupert and the press have been set up to some extent as the villains of the piece. And a 14 year old should never have to school her elders on what is and isn't acceptable. Nora's needs have already been neglected by Rebecca for far too long.

If a moral position is to be taken on this, it needs to be taken by the show (because stance matters) and/or by its characters. But the show has for the most part depicted this relationship as ill-advised but ultimately hot, sweet, funny and romantic. As for the characters themselves, Sam has shown at least once that he has some moral backbone but seems to be adorably clueless when it comes to fucking his boss who keeps trying to set boundaries with him. Meanwhile, Rebecca's whole arc in s1 was about learning not to misuse her power for her own selfish ends. In season one, she misused her power within the club in order to exact revenge. In season 2, we have seen her misuse her sexual power, though I still cannot see to what end. I'm a bit at a loss as to what exactly she gets out of this 'relationship' but then I'm a grown woman so I have absolutely no interest in sleeping with a Harry Potter enthusiast barely out of his teens. I couldn't think of anything less sexy and more ick. I was certainly hoping for better character development for her this season.

As to what the writers were thinking, obviously I was not in the writer's room, but I would guess that they were thinking that any drama is good drama, people are stupid and fan devotion will trump any meaningful critique. In other words, they were thinking exactly how every other television writer thinks, despite the fact that this show posited itself as 'not like other TV shows'. This, to me, is where the blame really lies. Not with the characters or with the actors who are doing their best to sell this ludicrous turn of events. It must be noted, however, that both actors were completely blindsided by this relationship that had supposedly been so cleverly foreshadowed. Newsflash: if the people actually living these stories did not see this coming then you haven't foreshadowed shit. Sure, there were a handful of people that paired Rebecca with Sam but this does not constitute proof either. Fans have free-range to imagine and re-imagine characters. In some cases this may extend to imagining relationships between characters who have barely, if ever, interacted. There may be little to no evidence that these characters have even clocked each other's existence and some fans will still ship it. The existence of a handful of shippers does not legitimise such a problematic and divisive plotline making it onscreen.

But wait!, you might argue, this may not be a case of a popular show seeing just how far they can stretch fan devotion. This may not be a case of fan service to a handful of shippers. After all, the creators mapped out the entire three-season arc of Ted Lasso before they even pitched it to Apple. This was their brilliant plan all along! To which I would say: then maybe they should've rethought their second act based on people's strong reactions to their first. Ted Lasso was touted as the show we all needed in 2020. The writers and creators have all marveled at the chord it struck considering it was conceived prior to the pandemic and all the chaos it wrought. And while there is something to be said for having/sticking to a creative vision, there is also something to be said for being flexible and responsive to your audience and the cultural zeitgeist with which you're engaged. Season 1 of Ted Lasso told its story so gently, without creating distrust, division or unnecessary anxiety. It did not treat its audience like a gaggle of stupid lemmings to be led over a succession of narrative cliffs. THIS is what I mean when I say the show has broken with its brand. And look, this whole dark forest thing would be okay if the narrative arc was as well-crafted as s1. Season 1 gave us meaning, cohesion, comfort, sense in a senseless time. It was an almost perfectly crafted season of television. And I kept the faith for 6 episodes, despite the first half of s2 being pretty damn wobbly. But the follow-up to this stellar debut has been less than extraordinary so yeah, perhaps they should've thought a little harder about what made s1 so special before throwing it all out the window.

But wait!, I hear the faithful say, you don't know how things will pan out yet! Wait until the season is over and everything will make sense! But -- wearily and once again, I say -- we should not need to wait until the end of the season to understand what the hell is happening. By this point (over halfway through the season and show) we should have a v clear idea of the show's themes and the characters' arcs. And tbf, from what I can tell there are some fab things happening in other aspects of the show that I wish I could watch and enjoy. But my biggest fear at this point is that they are going to use Sam to solve Rebecca's childlessness. That, like Rupert (because the parallel cannot be avoided), she will become pregnant with a young fling and the show's attitude to this relationship will ultimately be: oh well, it was a bad idea and didn't work out for them but it was all for the best in the end cos who can be mad about a cute lil baaaayyybbbeeee??!! If they do go down this path then I will definitely be abstaining from the rest of the show. I will simply recall my repeated viewings of s1 with fondness tinged with regret at just how badly they fucked up a good thing.

Ultimately, Anon, I think this may be a case of there simply not being a diverse enough perspective in the writer's room. I am not saying that every single woman or every single person of colour will necessarily object to this relationship. I am simply saying that women and people of colour will be more sensitive to the issues of gender and race that are relevant here but that have not been fully or sensitively acknowledged in the writing of this plotline. Neither am I saying that Rebecca is the first woman to sleep with a man much (much, much, MUCH) younger than herself or indulge in an ill-advised relationship. But the comparison with Rupert both works here and doesn't because Rebecca is not being written like a white woman, she is being written like a white man. Realistically, only a white man can engage in this kind of hugely imbalanced relationship seemingly without any major moral qualms or societal ramifications. Not to put too fine a point on it, but this kind of relationship is reserved for all the Bills and Joes and Brendans and Jasons out there -- not for the Rebeccas and definitely not for the Sams. We are way beyond the point in feminism where we believe that liberation is simply the right for a white woman to behave as badly as a white man. The truth is that whatever wealth, power and privilege Rebecca has, the rules are different for men and women. She will not be treated the same as Rupert if and when this affair is uncovered. She will be treated far more savagely than Rupert ever was and Sam will be treated far more savagely than Bex was. This is not an argument for the equal treatment of these two relationships. It is an argument against how the relationship between Rebecca and Sam has been envisaged, i.e. through the wrong perspective. In writing from a 'neutral' white male pov, the show has invisiblised all the many issues activated by this storyline and revealed a blindspot that was always there.

As much as I loved and still love season 1 of this show, it has definite blindspots when it comes to representations of race and gender. There are at least two moments in s1 that stand out for me as being so obviously written by a man. Not necessarily because of what they do but because of what they don't do: what is missed, absent, unacknowledged. I was willing to overlook such minor failings in a debut season for many reasons. But s2 seems to have exacerbated these minor flaws rather than correcting them. And here I can't help thinking of Tina Fey speaking of the diversification of the writer's room at SNL during her tenure as co-headwriter. This notoriously male-dominated environment only began to shift and produce better work when a greater diversity of minds, voices and persepectives was allowed in the room. In this richer environment, she notes, different jokes played differently. Different sketches made it to air. Different perspectives were represented and different performers were celebrated. I can't help wondering if this plotline would have made it to air if there had been a female writer, a writer of colour or both further up the chain of command to challenge the ideas of the straight white dudes in charge.

One of the reasons I didn't think Ted Lasso was for me was that it centred a straight, white, cis-het, able-bodied man who rose to a position he didn't earn. That is just not a pov I would normally choose for myself, especially now that there is such a rich array of alternative perspectives through which to view the world. But I think the show won a lot of females fans with its first season largely due to its portrayal of Rebecca. She is the first person we meet. She is arguably the protagonist of s1. And while she would have been figured as a villain in previous pieces, the show never took that stance with her (because again, stance matters). Other elements like the depiction of female friendships, all centred around Rebecca, made this show female-friendly viewing. But imo, the major reason this show won over female fans (this one, at least) is because, in this post-MeToo, post-TimesUp era, it stood up and said: domestic violence is not okay, we stand with women and all victims of abuse, we will defend you, we know words can hurt, we know it can happen to anyone, we know all about toxic masculinity, we do not take this lightly and we will support you in your healing. Needless to say, this is how women hope men will act when they speak of their most difficult experiences but it is not how they always do.

The shift away from Rebecca this season has however meant that the white male experience is more centred than it was in s1. Rebecca's journey to recovery, health and happiness has been trivialised and sidelined, reduced to a highly questionable sexcapade. Meanwhile, we get overwrought manpain at every turn. We get Beard wandering around London (no, I haven't seen it and no, I don't need to. We've all been raised on white dudes thinking they're genuises when they have a figurative wank all over our screens). We get NO queer represention at all. And the only other female characters on screen are in care/service roles to men. The father/son, mentoring and toxic masculinity themes are all still there but they're no longer balanced out by ANY other competing perspective. One of the reasons I was okay with Ted failing upwards in s1 was that he used his power and privilege to lift up others. He was the one in service. He used his enormous privilege for good, as anyone with such privilege must. (Admittedly, it could be argued that this is just another version of a white savior narrative).

My point here is that I'm not sure that peeking behind the mask at the sad clown is as revolutionary as some might believe. We love it because it's familiar. But this is a narrative with a long and problematic history. Do I believe in tearing down toxic masculinity in all its forms? You bet. Do I believe that patriarchy traumatises men as well as women and every other minority in existence? I mean...nowhere near as much, but absolutely. Do I believe in men expressing their feelings and going to therapy? Wholeheartedly. But I am also aware that 100 or so years ago, we were in a very similar place with our narratives. Everyone is looking for a recapitulation of modernism and frankly, this might be an indicator of just that. Whenever women and people of colour have demanded rights and recognition, there has always been a resurgence of tales about just how frickin' hard it is to be a white man. Minority genders and non-white people have never in western history been as visible or vocal as they are now. So forgive me (or don't, I don't care) if I critique a show not only for centering fathers, sons, boys and men but for blindly and boldly writing one of its only female characters and one of its only black characters as if their gender and race just do not exist. There are many other power differentials at play in this relationship, including age, experience, wealth and position, but race and gender are the two that patriarchy is most invested in invisiblising. So I don't care how brilliant they think they are, I will not trust the writing of a bunch of white dudes trying to tell me that race and gender are irrelevant.

#ted lasso #rebecca welton #sam obisanya #ask #yeah this one got out of hand

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

Text

eternal love

— A simple love story between a tattoo artist and a flower shop owner. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing

word count: 10,505

a/n: so, ngl... this was something that blew up in my mind at 2 am a few nights ago and after fighting others on whether I should write it, I finally did it!!! I super loved writing this, and I hope you guys will enjoy reading it!!!! a lil fluff for the soul, have fun :D also uh, this works for @bnhabookclub‘s event so huzzah!

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Spring was a season of renewal. The world is going back to what it once was in its beautiful glory. Baby pinks and soft greens illuminated as far as the eyes could see, the morning mist unable to freeze because of the warmth in the ground.

The gentle echoing sounds of animals, insects, and more returning to regular activity, the cold winters finally defeated. Butterflies danced in the air, birds sang in the trees, and love was in the air.

What would be perfect with love?

Flowers.

“Good morning, y/l/n-san,” an elder greeted you.

Your cheeks were already burning with exhaustion, it was only eight in the morning, and you were tired. You wiped the back of your hand to your sweating forehead, your fatigue ignored while you smiled in greeting. “Good morning!”

She stared up at you with kind eyes, her hands holding onto her cane while she cocked her head to the side, “You seem to be quite exhausted this morning.”

There wasn’t much you could say or reply with because it was true.

“Well, we finally have a whole bunch of flowers back, and with White Day approaching us, I’m trying to make sure we’re on track!” you explain, trying to fix the multiple buckets of assorted flowers that you would have outside of your store.

You were a flower shop owner.

Your entire life, you had lived a life where you had grown up working alongside your parents. This was a family business, and with your parents eldering years and you finally back from schooling, they had decided to take an impromptu trip to see the world, leaving you behind to take care of the store. It wasn’t something you minded; after all, they had allowed you to seek all of your own adventures in your life despite only being owners of a flower shop, but it was a lot of work for just yourself.

You couldn’t hire anyone to work at the store, after all, while you had never grown up to live in a moment of discomfort, it was because your parents and yourself busted your backs for this store was why it survived. But now it was just you.

Winter had been fine, the flowers never had to leave the store, but this was spring.

Renewal, return, and romance suffocated the airs of Japan, and your slow winter business was already becoming a quick and demanding spring one.

Brushing your soiled hands onto the relatively clean apron you wore, you sighed at the sight of the elder looking past you. ‘Was she that old that she spaced out in public?’ you couldn’t help but think while staring at her.

“Who’s moving into that shop there?” the elder spoke up, and you hummed, turning around to follow her extended finger.

The shop next to your family’s flower shop had been vacant for years, the last time you remember anyone being there was in middle school. Now in your early twenties, you didn’t even realize that anyone was moving in. There were a lot of men too! How you had so apparently been ignorant to their massive hustle to move things in shocked you. Damn, maybe you were past the point of exhaustion at this point…

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, your eyes growing when you realized just how neater the store looked. They had obviously been working on repairing the store for some time now, the store was painted in a clean and crisp color, the brick walls scrubbed and glittering like new. It was pretty aesthetic.

“Y/l/n-san! Please help me, it’s my wife’s promotion day, and the flowers I ordered online never arrived!” a voice screamed from a distance away, and your attention turned towards a man who was sobbing while scampering his way over.

And even with your want to just stare at the army of men moving in machines you’ve never seen in your life, you exhaled softly, turning to face the scared customer.

“Of course, follow me!”

You bid your farewells to the elder and hurried inside, ready to create an arrangement of flowers that the customer would enjoy.

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Your exhaustion of the day never seemed to end, the spring day had brought a plethora of customers to your storefront. Many couples, new and old, are surfacing to pick out fresh bouquets together. Their happiness is charming, personalities warming and smiles ever so sweet. They always asked about how you were doing, how your parents were doing — after all, this was a tight community, and they asked about the new business next door.

You couldn’t respond to that last question, your face always burning up in your embarrassment of not knowing. There was no reason for you to not know, after all, it wasn’t as if you were ever doing anything that wasn’t running the store. There was no one to rely on but yourself at this point, but still, exhaustion didn’t mean you could miss the purchase and remodeling of the store right next door to you!

Soon it was nine at night, the now empty wooden carts that were once outdoors dragged back indoors of your store. You took count of your sales today, grinning to see that you had managed to sell everything you had put out today except for a few leftover peonies. You moved back towards the door, ready to turn the Open sign to the Closed side. But you paused when you saw three men walking out of the neighboring shop.

Your eyes focused on the three of them talking comfortably. You had no idea what they were saying, but still, you concentrate on them, curiosity getting the best of you. They talked for a while while you continued to peer through the glass on the door, the conversation must have been lively considering that one of the men was laughing so frequently you almost wished you could hear what they were saying. But alas, eventually, they embraced, and two of the three men entered the large truck that had been parked in the alleyway practically all day and left.

Frowning, you saw that the man was still standing out there. He was unmoving, looking at who knows what with his hands stuffed into his pockets. The night was dark, and the lights on the street did little to help you create what he looked like in your mind. But with a passing car, the soft light illuminating the man with the gentle headlights, you got a clear image of him.

Well, it would have been clear had your guts scrambled into a knot at the sight of his own eyes piercing into yours.

He had noticed you.

With a loud cry, you dove to the floor, your hands pressed against the cool wood while you thought about your next plan of action. Would he come and confront you? Stalking people like this wasn’t cool in the slightest, and if he wanted to walk over and ask you about it, you wouldn’t be able to lie in the slightest. You knew that about yourself. Or maybe it was just you freaking out? There was a solid chance that this was just you freaking out, right?

Your palms sweat while you pushed off the floor, your body trembling as if you were the starring role of some American horror movie. Sucking in your air, and with a hammering heart, you peeked through the glass. No one was out there.

Sighing in relief, you were grateful to believe that it was either your imagination that he stared at you, or he just didn’t care. But still, even with the exhaustion weighing heavy in your bones, you knew you owed him a greeting. Your mother would have your head when she returned if you didn’t. Plus, it helped that the pink peonies still sat in the bucket, their petals still strong and firm, beautiful and lively.

With a nod, you walked over to them. Grabbing the peonies, you organized the delicate flowers into a full and lush looking bouquet. You hoped that he liked flowers, and wouldn’t mind the kind you gave him, primarily because you couldn’t provide him with anything else. Nevertheless, you wrapped the flowers in a tan paper and walked out, ready to give your greetings to a newcomer.

The store felt a world away while you walked towards it, and upon stepping in front of the store, it stole your breath away.

It was a tattoo shop.

Tattoos in Japan were no longer being associated with the Yakuza, years of trying to get everyone to accept this western practice by the younger generations had finally succeeded. Tattoo shops were blooming in numbers across the country, and it seemed that your area was no different.

The outside had large windows, and without even entering the shop, you found it to be quite classy indoors. This wasn’t at all what you were expecting from a tattoo shop! You had always assumed that it was black, something similar to the gates of hell feeling. But with the sign not claiming it was closed, and the store hours showing that it was open until eleven at night, you pushed past the doors. You were glad to see that your pink peonies would make a generous splash of color in the darker colored storefront.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice ever so softly echoing against the unoccupied room. “Is anyone here?”

Cringing at what you said, you groaned. If there was no one here, would that make you a criminal? Oh god, please don’t let that be true! But if there was no one here, why would he leave with the lights on and the door unlocked?! How stupid—

“Can I help you?”

Oh fuck, you’re screwed, was all you could think at first when you turned towards the black curtained hallway.

The man who stood there was tall, his shoulders wide, and legs firm. His arms — which were covered shoulders to wrists in tattoos, his right side containing only black inked tattoos, and his left in the most colorful ink you’d ever seen — were defined with muscle, stretching the fabric of his dark grey t-shirt.

A line of piercings down the cartilage of his ears, identical on both sides of his head. His hair, however, was something you’ve never seen before. Half white, half red, with an undercut and detailed shavings at his temples, it was currently held back with a thin black headband that exposed his eyes to you. He was heterochromatic, you could tell immediately by the piercing blue and dark grey eye color he held. But there was nothing to disguise your reaction when you saw the tattoo — scar? — that covered his eye like an overlarge eyepatch.

There was no smile on his face, just a quirked eyebrow and his lips set in an unamused frown.

“Is that a tattoo?!” you asked your jaw to the floor. Your fingers touched the place where the red skin on his face would be on your own.

“No,” he responded after a beat, his eyes were unbelievably annoyed. Obviously, not at all amused by your intrusion and rude words. “It’s a burn, but again, can I help you, or are you just going to stand there and stare. Not that you look the type to get tattoos, though.”

“I do have piercings, though,” you couldn’t help but defend yourself, your skin feeling like it was burning under his gaze. “But okay, yes. I mean, no! No, you can’t help me because I’m not here for your services.”

His gaze on you only seemed to intensify, a fire and ice storm erupting in his eyes while you wanted to punch yourself in the throat. Good god, be normal.

“I’m your neighbor! Well, I guess I can give you my name. Y/l/n y/n at your service,” you try, your hands thrusting out the peonies in your grasp. His gaze didn’t drop to the flowers, not even a twitch of an eye, which only coursed anxiety through your blood. “I’m the owner slash, not the owner of the flower shop! I hadn’t noticed you ever moving in except today, so I felt super bad! Um, so I just wanted to stop by and say, well, welcome! And uh, well… I just felt bad! These are peonies.”

“I know what flowers those are,” he responds, but his gaze remains unfazed.

What the hell was his problem, you thought, the hairs on the back of your neck rising as if you were being confronted by a deadly predator and not some stupid hot tattoo artist with a bad attitude.

“Oh, cool! Most people think they’re roses for whatever reason,” you laugh, looking at the flowers, your shoulder shrugging.

“I also know they’re the only flowers you had leftover from your sales today,” he spoke again, and your face twisted when you returned to his gaze again.

“Excuse me?”

“I was outside when you were pulling all your carts inside, and they were the only ones who weren’t sold today,” he shrugs, his arms crossing before his chest. The muscles on his arms only seem to expand at this, the ink dancing across his skin, forming new images in your mind while you feel like punching him in the jaw. “Is that what you feel about your new neighbor? I’m deserving of day-old flowers that you were unable to sell?”

“Of course not!” you exclaim, the frustration in your blood climbing while you held his stare. “I mean, are they new and super fresh flowers, no! But they haven’t even wilted yet because I know how to take care of my crap! I just finished the winter season where flower sales are always less than favored, so sorry I couldn’t toss you a thousand yen bouquet!”

There was a silence that floated across the room, his eyes staring into yours, and you could do nothing but stare back at him. Your shoulders rag with your uncontrolled angry breathing, what a fucking asshole he was! Who did he think he was?!

“Well, I guess I’m sorry to hear that you’re broke,” he sighs, finally taking strides over towards you. There’s a part of you that yells to leave the store immediately, and an even larger part of you that screams to step at him too, throw him off his trail! But in your indecisiveness, he stands before you, taking the flowers from your hands. “Todoroki Shouto.”

“That is so obviously not my name,” you roll your eyes, your arms folding across your chest.

There’s a small huff of air from the man, his eyes looking at you full of judgment and the smallest bits of amusement.

“Oh!” you gasp, your hands covering your mouth.

“I’m Todoroki Shouto,” he tries, his eyebrow lifting again, his lip trying perking into a smirk. “But, thanks for confirming we don’t have the same name.”

If there was a god, he would shoot you from this world at this very moment; your fists shoved into the pockets of your apron.

“Okay,” you agree, your lips pursing in your horrible, horrible attempt at masking your hurt pride. “Well, I am utterly exhausted, so I am going to leave now. Have fun with your dumb tattoo shop, Todoroki-san, I am… going to sleep.”

You turned on your heel, ready to run from this shop like the devil was hot on your heels.

“Well, see you around—” he responded, your hands pressing onto the door to leave�� “Y/l/n.”

The ringing of your blood in your ears heavily outweighed his voice because you didn’t even stare at him as you continued to walk down the pathway to reenter your shop. Maybe it was a good thing you didn’t look back because had you, you would’ve seen Shouto’s fingers caressing the pink petals of the flower, and his lips moved to say one thing.

“Welcome.”

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It had been a week since you had seen Shouto. The new tattoo shop seemed positively overwhelmed by new customers, countless amount of young people filing into their appointment times, and the few days he had free hours. It, fortunately, did bring you new crowds of customers. Friends and couples alike bringing in the warm spring air into your shop while they bought flowers in commemoration of their new tattoos.

There was no stopping this, it seemed.

“Thank you for your service, please come again,” you called out after the giggling and slightly tipsy group of girls who happened to be your last customers of the day.

Today has been a good day.

You weren’t at all exhausted, in fact, you felt relatively light on your feet still despite it being 8:56 p.m. Since it was so late at night, and with the knowledge of there hardly ever being last-second customers you started cleaning up for the night. But as you grabbed the broom, the familiar bell of the entrance of the shop rang in your ears.

Sighing, you dropped the broom and turned towards the counter, “Welcome!”

The figure at the door shocked you, it was Shouto. He stood there with his fingers hooked in the loops of his black jeans, and the white v-neck did nothing to conceal anything about his tattoos or his dumb muscles.

“Hey!” you smiled, the smile on your face as fake as the festive flowers sitting on the counter — the ironies of working at a flower shop.

“I’m looking for recommendations,” Shouto admitted, his strides stopping him before you. “It’s one of my friends' birthdays coming soon, in a few weeks. He doesn’t like getting presents, but he likes flowers. I was hoping you could help me out here.”

Your jaw drops, words failing you seeing the way that his hair falls so elegantly between his eyes. His eyes are concentrated on the pre-arranged flower arrangements demonstrated on the table as samples and you cough.

“Uh, yes, do you know any of his favorite flowers?”

“No, he’s not really that open about his interests,” Shouto admits, his shoulders shrugging,

“When do you need the arrangement?”

“His birthday is April 20,” Shouto says, a sigh on his lips while he looks up at you. “I’m not sure if there was a time requirement to request things, especially given that you work here alone.”

“I do not work here alone!” you cry, your blood sparking in a fury. “I mean, yes, right now I do, but it’s not always like this! I’m just being a good child and letting my parents have the travels of their lifetime!”

Shouto hums, his face unconvinced, but he seems a bit perplexed, “Did I do something that first night to you?”

That takes you entirely off guard, “Excuse me?”

“Well, after the first night we officially met, you have avoided me very well.”

“I-I’m very busy with this store!”

“I walked out of the store to pick up supplies while you were speaking with your own customer. I saw you run into the door, trying to make your way back indoors.”

“You saw that?!”

“A lot of my friends say I can come off coldly at first, and I know that it’s true, and I’m trying to work on it. I, myself, was exhausted that day too because we put the entire shop together in a single day, so I let myself slip up,” Shouto admits, and you can feel your face beating in time with your embarrassed pulse. Why was this so hard? “I haven’t had the time to come over since opening, so I’m trying now.”

“So the birthday thing is a fake way to get me to talk?” you asked, your lips twitching in your losing battle to keep from smirking.

“Yes and no,” he smiles softly. It almost takes you by surprise, the smile seemed too gentle, too sweet to be on the face of someone who looked like they’d murder you in an alleyway. “I’m not that incompetent to know that I have a few weeks to give until I really need to get those plans under wraps.”

There’s a laugh that bubbles in your throat, and you sigh, unbelieving of what he was doing.

“You’re kind of weird,” you tease, untying your apron for it was now long past the store's open hours. “But since you’re not a customer, I will be asking you to leave at once.”

“But—!”

“No exceptions! I can’t be seen playing favorites, the elders will gossip,” you firmly state, moving from behind the counter to shoo him from your store.

“I want to buy a flower then,” Shouto insists, pulling out a leatherbound wallet.

Your eyes narrow, lucky bitch.

“What flower would you like?” you ask. Your customer service smile painted on your face.

“Do you happen to have any ajisai’s?” Shouto asks, and you think.

You did have some!

Nodding, you pointed your finger towards the pack where small bouquets of ajisai’s sat. Shouto nodded, walking over and grabbing one and making it back.

“That’ll be seven hundred yen,” you say the moment he arrives back.

“The sign said six hundred,” Shouto points out.

“You have me seven minutes over closing time, it’s my gratuity tip,” you tease, grinning when he places seven hundred yen down. You focus back on the cash register, inputting the last sale into it and fixing up the computer before returning your attention back to Shouto, who was staring at the flowers in his hands.

“Here,” he says, thrusting the flowers into your hands and walking away before you could yell at him.

The pink-tipped flowers sat in your hands, ajisai — or hydrangeas — were small and delicate flowers, but they were stunning in your eyes. Rolling your eyes, you put the flowers next to the fake festive ones and went to clean up, the small smile on your own face irreplaceable as you cleaned up.

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In the following weeks, you and Shouto had begun a strange friendship of sorts. Your breaks during your lunch and dinner times were accompanied by Shouto, who was always over at the time. The tattoo shop was doing exceptionally well, and because of that, he even had other artists there with him, and just gained an official piercer. They were a great crew, all bright and caring people who often had you laughing on the rare occasions you visited his shop. But Shouto always had his time slot blocked out during your breaks, and he would come over with snacks and opinions for the two of you to discuss.

He was definitely an odd person. He was very open about a lot of things, almost too honest. In weeks, you knew more about him than some of your own childhood friends, and you had been involved with most of their stories! Todoroki Shouto was someone to admire though, he was brilliant, a person who never failed to make you smile with his often idiotic tendencies.

He was smart but dumber than a rock.

But as the two of you grew comfortable, there was one thing itching at the back of your mind, the one question you always had when you saw people with tattoos.

“What do your tattoos mean?” you couldn’t help but ask, your eyes shining while looking at his arm that was poised high to deliver the cold soba noodles into his awaiting mouth. “I mean, I know there’s a lot, but one side is colorful and bold, and the other is simple and beautiful.”

Shouto finished the noodles on his chopsticks, his lips soaked with the oils on the noodles. “Do you want to know about a particular one?” he asked, resting the chopsticks down and extending his arms for you to see.

You leaned forward on the stool you were sitting on, observing the lines that created the art on his skin. You were fascinated by both sleeves, and he had incredible artwork on both sides of his arms. There was also some hidden motif behind each side, fire versus ice… But which one to ask about first?

“Can you just tell me why you have two sleeves that are starkly different?” you asked with a curious glint of your eyes. “I mean black ink on one side versus only color? Is there a reason, or was it just something that happened by accident?”

“Oh, there’s a reason for it,” Shouto adjusted on his chair, clearing his throat while he extended his arms. “You can tell just by looking at me, but my left side is what I’ve always associated with my dad: the red hair, blue eyes. My right side is something that I connect with my mom: the white hair, grey eyes. Colored tattoos are always more painful, they tell a very exact story. There isn’t any room for argument because it is seen in one way and one way only. You can deceive, and you can hide, but the truth is there. When I got my first tattoo, I still hated my dad with everything I had, and I wanted to cover every part of my body that I could that would erase him from me. Which is my left side. And like colored tattoos, he was painful, exact, and unchanging. My right side is black ink only because things become confusing, discerning, unknown—” his fingers trace the curving lines on his right arm— “you don’t know where it starts, where it ends, but it’s ever present. It’s comforting because it can change with how you need it to change. You can have other fills in its blanks, to piece together its story, but it has distinct intentions. It’s strong and adaptable.”

You take in his words, unable to think of anything but absorb his words. There’s a soft understanding to his tattoos. Once done in defiant, spoke stories of not only who he was, but who he is today.

“Okay, so I know I’m just a super lame florist, but what do you think about me getting a tattoo?” you asked, your teeth biting into your lower lip with your confusion and hope. “I mean, I’ve never really wanted one before, but that was because of social stigma and all, but seeing yours and your friends all the time… I’m curious.”

Shouto’s brows raise; he doesn’t say anything; however, studying your face.

“What are you thinking about in particular?” he asked his eyebrow scrunching, his head tilting to the side. “Anything at all?”

You blew a raspberry, your hands pressing to your lap, your shoulders falling to your ears.

“I like symbolic things a lot,” you admit with a shrug. “I don’t think I could ever get a sleeve tattoo, so I want it to make sense and have meaning to me. Like… I don’t know a sakura blossom, but maybe not that? I don’t know!”

Shouto laughs softly, the sound pleasant on your ears while you thrash your legs like a child.

“Well, I think I can help you at the very least draw you something,” he suggests, a hand offered out in a deal. “I am a tattoo artist, after all.”

“I’m not sure if I can trust you,” you playfully scoff, your arms folding across your chest while you shake your head. “I might doze off under the needle and wake up to a walking penis on my back!”

“A penis?” Shouto repeated, an award-winning smile gracing his face while you huff, your laughter failing at being masked.

“It’s what happened in middle school to people caught sleeping! Didn’t it happen to you?”

“Not at all.”

“Right, you rich kid middle schools were a breeding ground for far worse. What type of prepubescent hazing did your school do?”

“What makes you think there was hazing?”

“How could there not be!”

The doorbell chimes in the distance and the lively debate is over when you check the time, it was time to reopen it seems.

“I’ll figure out what you did back as a pubescent child,” you promise, watching as Shouto rises with you, his own alarm going off. “But would you really draw me a tattoo?”

Shouto nods, following you out to the entrance of the shop, “I will if you ask me to.”

Uncertainty sits in your stomach, you weren’t sure if it was something that you wanted right now, it had, after all, come up as a moment of trying to create conversation more than being an honest truth. But if it was something that Shouto drew for you, maybe you would.

“I’ll let you know if I want it,” you promise, your eyes closing with your warm smile.

Shouto hums in agreement, his head nodding once. He seems to hesitate for a bit and ultimately walks over to where there was a gathering of flowers and picks out a single himawari. Your eyes narrow in silent teasing when he walks it over to the counter, his hands already reaching for his wallet.

You accept the change, giving him back what you owed him, and was once again shocked to see him resting the flower in your hands.

“For you,” he smiled, his shoulders shrugging.

“You’re so weird,” you wrinkle your nose, still accepting the flower from his fingers with a bright smile. “Thank you for the beautiful himawari.”

“Mm, you’re welcome,” Shouto nodded, slipping on the beanie he had removed upon entering the warm flower shop. “See ya later, y/l/n?”

You nod, waving as he left to which he graciously flipped the sign for you to read that you were once again open. “Bye, Todoroki-san!”

Himawari flowers, otherwise known as sunflowers, always filled you with warmth and love. A flower that is known to be a personal sun on this earth without ever once providing a shred of warmth. There was no denying that it was beautiful, but you shook your head, leaving it on the table in the hallway that leads to your home above the shop. You’d dry and press it once the day was over.

Yes, you decided, that’s how it was going to go.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Three ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“I always forget the wedding season is a thing! Stop looking at me like that, and please help me!”

Most people would never expect to see a community staple member who ran the flower shop to be on their hands and knees, holding onto the ankles of one of the most intimidating and newest members of the community while they begged for help. Well, to be honest, no one could even consider what you were doing to be begging. It was a full-on psycho messy bitch cry for help.

“I said I was going to help you already, what else do you possibly need from me?” Shouto groaned, his vans clad foot trying to wiggle you loose from his ankle. “...don’t tell me.”

“Well, you know what I’m asking then!” you whine, your eyes welling with tears at Shouto’s straight face.

Your face had an array of dried petals on your face, dirt caking the undersides of your fingernails, grass, and leaves in your hair, and desperation reeking from your face.

“My parents still aren’t back! My friends are all busy living their own lives too far away to help me properly, and you’re the only person I trust! You’re a tattoo artist, you have to have a delicate hand, right? Please help me and let me use your crew too, I promise I’ll pay!”

Shouto groans, managing to kick you free from his foot, and pulling you up to your feet so that the noisy people watching would hopefully leave. “If you want the others to help you out, you need to ask them. I’m not going to force them to do anything.”

Your eyes blow wide, excitement simmering in your cells while your hands grip onto his biceps for support, and his own hands rested on your hips.

“Really?! You’ll let me do that?!”

Shouto breathed heavily out of his nose, took a second to recompose himself before letting that small smile appear on his face. The grateful squeal that left your lips was something that shocked him, Shouto won’t lie, but it was the hug you threw around his neck that had him stumbling. He watched in a frozen trance as you stormed into his shop, arms waving animatedly above your head while you explained your need for help to his employees. He didn’t follow you in though, choosing to instead watch you from outside the shop because it was his break right now, and he wasn’t going to be spending it inside the shop.

You returned with a smug smirk on your face, dirt-smudged on your cheek while you nodded your head in victory.

“Well, it looks like I have a team,” you say with a mock casualty. “I am, what the cool kids call, persuasive.”

A weird feeling floods to the tips of Shouto’s fingers at your words was this… annoyance? There was no reason for him to be annoyed that his friends would be coming over to help you. You needed the help. So what if you wouldn’t be talking to him and only him.

“Persuasive, or annoying?” Shouto tries you, and the way you focused on him in your flustered state was enough for a small chuckle to escape his lips. Before you could respond in defense to your persuasive tongue, he was already en route towards your shop. “You wasted five minutes of my break, please don’t waste the other ten.”

He wasn’t sure what made him grin more, the loud cry of “you’re an asshole, Todoroki-san,” the childish stomping coming from behind him, or the cheerful laughter that soaked your tongue at your own silly antics. But still, the grin became a soft smile when he turned to face you, the shop door in his hand while he held it for you.

“After you.”

“Damn right, after me.”

“You guys are actually very good at this,” you marvel, peering over Shouto’s shoulder, watching as he and his coworkers assembled the vase of statement flowers.

Todoroki Shouto, Kaminari Denki, Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki.

Five equally large men, decked out in tattoos and piercings, with a punk look to them sat pinched together on tables meant to hold more than five men dainty arranging soft pinks and white-colored flowers with your princess pop music blaring in the background. It was very different to how they were in their shop, but it amused you to see them like this.

They were a group of childhood friends who apparently all had the same dream and worked together to make this tattoo shop. Shouto, being the most wealthy of them, had been the name signed on all the papers, explaining the reasons why he was the one you had first met those many nights ago.

But with five different weddings coming up at the moment, you were more stressed about getting these things done and fast. The good thing, however, was that it seemed most of them were striving perfectionists.

Shouto, Bakugou, Midoriya, and Shinsou were all on top of it, having only needing you to explain the arrangements once for them to get it. Kaminari took two tries, but he was also very, very social, and took his time. They were a bizarre dynamic, but it was something you enjoyed.

“Damn right we are, this shit is so fucking easy,” Bakugou responded back, shoving yet another completed arrangement your way. “And why are you just fucking staring at us? Why aren’t you helping?”

You hummed, grabbing the completed vase, and placing it with the others from this particular wedding. “Because I already met my quota, and I can’t pull out the other arrangement until you guys are done.”

“Oh, there’s another one?” Midoriya asked, handing you a completed vase.

“Well, if you guys don’t mind!” you feel your face heating while they were finishing up their final vases, Bakugou snatching some of Kaminari since he had more leftover. “I just didn’t expect you guys to haul these so quickly! And well, there’s just one left I have to do!”

“We are amazing,” Kaminari says, twirling a stem of baby’s-breath in his fingers. “I can see why you were so eager to sign us to your shop. “I make perfect commentary, Shinsou has that calming effect, Deku is sweet and kind, Shouto is obviously the closest to you, and Bakugou.”

You blinked, as did everyone else, staring at the blond who wove the baby’s-breath into the arrangement with a soft touch. Wasn’t he going to finish that sentence?

“And I what?” Bakugou growls, his ears tinging red with his annoyance.

“Hm?” Kaminari perks his eyebrows, his gaze lazily resting on the ash blond. “Oh, no, that was it!”

There was a loud screech of the chair against the floor, and Midoriya was holding back Bakugou while Kaminari screeched, hiding behind Shinsou.

“Here you go,” Shouto sighed, handing you the prior arrangement for this wedding batch.

“Thank you,” you smile gratefully, the sounds of the raging war between Bakugou and Kaminari fading into background noise while you hold Shouto’s gaze. “For all of this too, you guys are keeping me from a countless amount of all-nighters.”

“Well, as long as they don’t wreck your shop, then I guess the payment will be okay,” Shouto sighed, not bothering to even look at how Midoriya was losing ground on keeping Bakugou back.

“As long as there isn’t any blood or teeth on the floor, I’ll give it to ya,” you grin, gesturing with your head for him to follow you.

While you and Shouto had gone to get the final wedding arrangements, Shinsou had managed to get Bakugou to calm down and sit. This arrangement was simple, and there were only twelve of them you needed to make, and before you knew it, everyone was leaving, waving as they went. Only Shouto stayed behind, helping you put away the chairs and the tables, while also setting the flowers into the freezer until they would be collected.

It was almost midnight by the time the two of you had cleaned up the shop, and Shouto leaned against the counter while you sprawled onto the floor, exhausted.

“I think,” you mumble, exhaustion fluttering through you. “I think Imma just, sleep here.”

“I’m not going to let you do that,” Shouto sighs, walking over to you. “You’re bordering disgusting right now, and you need to shower before sleeping.”

“I’m not trying to impress anyone right now,” you point your finger at him definitely. “I think I can become one with the ground right now.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Shouto decided, pulling you up to your feet. Something that made you groan and press your forehead to his chest when you got you up. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll walk you to your stairs.”

Snorting, you shake your head, pushing him away, “No, it’s okay, I was just being annoying. Besides, I need to lock up down here once you leave.”

Shouto frowns, but he doesn’t move to argue with that, because it was true.

“I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning!” you insist, smiling sweetly up at the man who was wearing one of your bandanas.

“Okay,” Shouto finally agreed, moving towards the door.

When you got to the door, ready to see him out, Shouto paused.

He turned to you, his head tilting, and your lips parted to question him, but before any words could fall from your tongue, he raised his hand.

In his hand, he rested a pink arusutoromeria. It was most definitely a leftover from one of the arrangements statement flowers, but it sat daintily in his hand. Under the moonlight, it was almost ethereal in his hold, and you felt a small warmth build in your cheeks.

“That’s called stealing from my clients, ya know,” you tease, the exhaustion in you dying the moment you took the flower from his hand. “I’m going to have to take this out of your paycheck.”

“Don’t pay me,” Shouto insisted softly, his lips peeking into a half-smile. “I would’ve helped, even if you hadn’t asked.”

“That’s ridiculous, I wouldn’t have let you,” you shove his arm, but he went unmoved. His two-colored eyes shining in mirth while continuing to stare at you.

“I know,” he whispers, his gaze holding yours. “Goodnight, y/l/n.”

“Goodnight, Todoroki-san.”

Shouto licked his lips, his face wincing just the smallest bit before shaking his head, “I think you can drop the formality, we’re passed that.”

You didn’t have time to react, only whispering his last name while he exited your shop into the nighttime. But you looked down at the arusutoromeria, otherwise known as the Alstroemeria Peruvian lily. The peachy and pink waxy petals smooth under your fingertip, but it made your heart warm.

Shouto really did pick the most beautiful flowers.

But why was it always for you?

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Four ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“The shop isn’t open today, Todoroki-chan!”

Shouto turned around to see two elders watching him while he had failed to open your shop’s doors.

“Oh, thank you,” he thanked them, bowing in greetings. “Do you know why? Y/l/n didn’t mention anything yesterday?”

“We do, actually! The park hosts the summertime festival, and they’re in charge of the floral arrangements you see going on there! Y/l/n might be there right now!”

Shouto nodded, the banners that had been advertising for the said festival had been up for the past two weeks.

“Thank you,” he said, leaving the two elders to themselves before returning to his own shop.

Today was a busy day, and since he wasn’t going to have time to spend his break with you, he decided he’d just move on to his latest client. Ignoring the questionative and gossiping look of Kaminari, he called on the girl who was here for her last touch up.

He’d go and see you when you returned.

It was three in the morning when you were finally back at your shop. Festivals were indeed something of exhaustion. You spent six hours putting up flowers all over people's booths and stalls in order for things to look beautiful. Then when the festival began at three in the afternoon, you’d be in your own booth handing out single roses, lilies, and tulips to lovers, friends, and family who wanted to cheer others up.

Flower sales have always confused you. Flowers, after all, were almost pointless since most of them were bought without the roots and soil. You were gifting something that was on the verge of death that wouldn’t last longer than twenty-one days if you were lucky. But you couldn’t complain, on the other hand. The people’s faces that exploded with affection and love after receiving the flowers made it worth knowing that these dying presents had meaning to them.

But festivals by yourself were hell.

Restocking the flowers, handling the money, trying to give out the flowers all by yourself had proven to be a handful. This was at the least a two-person job, and with your parents still not returning anytime soon, it was hard. You couldn’t ask anyone to help you because everyone you knew who would accept your money to work had to work until late today too.

But you had survived, as you had been for the past few months. So when you tiredly stabbed your key into the air, trying your best to get it into the lock, a sudden noise scared you.

Turning towards the sound, your tired eyes widened upon seeing Shouto walking out with a young woman next to him. She was tall, grand, and even with your tired, dried out, and blurry eyes, you could tell she was beautiful. You saw the way that politely and effortlessly giggled, her dark eyes warm and sweet while she talked to Shouto.

And Shouto, how you had entirely missed him today. But he was obviously enraptured by this woman, his facial features looking kind and sweet while they talked.

A weird feeling tightened in your stomach, what the hell was that? You blinked multiple times, your head muggy and far too foggy for your liking. This wasn’t your business, you thought, finally succeeding in opening your shop door. But with a strong pull of the wagon you had, you watched in horror as the top bins clattered to the floor.

You hauled the wagon in, desperate to get out there and get the remaining fallen items off the floor. You thought having eaten only breakfast today would have rendered you unable to be as stupidly strong as you were at that moment. But as you went to pick up the boxes, you saw Shouto approaching you, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Oh, hey, Todoroki!” you laugh, trying to lift the boxes, but you were failing at it. “I didn’t see you all day, how are you?”

Shouto shrugged, his lower lips jutting out slightly too.

“Good, I didn’t realize you were working for the festival, all day at that,” he admitted while moving to help you. “How’d it go.”

“Well,” you think about it, watching your friend take the boxes from your hands and holding them with ease despite your own fumbling. “I, um… it was hard.”

Shouto listened to you while you explained how you handled your booth on your own. How this was one of the busiest festivals your city hosted and how you hadn’t had time to relax since the festival began at three. He listened to you without making any input of his own, the occasional chuckle from hearing about entitled customers, or customers who thought buying a red rose for someone they were going to break up with was a bad idea.

Cleaning up with Shouto with you was relaxing and welcoming, his presence was always one you received, and after a long day, it was sweet and soft.

But while in his explanation as to who the lady — Yaoyorozu Momo, as he named her — was doing at his shop so late, your stomach wailed in hunger. Your face burned in embarrassment, your appetite finally remaking its appearance.

Shouto chuckled, finding glee in your horror before nodding towards the hallway that leads to the staircase of your home. He had been up there a handful of times now, and he smirked, “I’ll make you something since we didn’t eat together today.”

“How can I trust you’re a good chef,” you ask, despite already making your way to the upper level of the shop, ready to stay up even longer with Shouto.

The next hour is spent with the two of you eating and talking. The conversation between the two of you is light and flowing smoothly. You’re on the couch with him, a blanket on your laps while you rest your head against his shoulder.

“Tell me about your tattoos,” you mumble, your exhausted body feeling warm and safe against his right side.

“Which one?” he asked, shifting his left arm towards you so that way you could continue resting on him.

“Any,” you sigh, your fingers brushing against his wrist. “They’re all beautiful.”

So he does.

Shouto tells you about the special ones first. The fire on his left wrist, the ice on the right. They were his first tattoos, something he had associated with himself since he could remember, but a symbol of how they were both significant parts, equal in their fury, but gentle, beautiful, and healing when needed. He had dizzying patterns on his right side, something he had always acquitted to being his more assertive side. The designs were distinctive and almost dizzying to look at, but each pattern he had drawn, each twist and turn meaning something. The black ink was daunting, powerful, and reserved. He even admitted to letting his friends color in the spaces where you could still see his pale flesh, it was something that he enjoyed because even being as old as he was, the childlike entertainment never left when someone did it.

His left side was stunning though, every color in the rainbow melting and mixing on his skin. This side was artistic, bold, a creation of vibrant dreams, and they warmed you up while he explained every secret behind them. He was scary on this side if you couldn’t find the outlines of each clashing drawing, but up close, with your breath gently warming his skin while you peered at his skin, you realized just how gentle it really was. It wasn’t scary or overwhelming. It was quiet, warm, and a soft gesture to who he used to be, and who he was now.

The two of you were close friends, nothing could ever say otherwise, but as the two of you lay on the couch together, you positioned between his legs, your head laying on his chest. Sleep was a mere kiss away when you snuggled into his chest, your finger pressing against the t-shirt he wore.

“I think I’m ready… for you to draw me up a tattoo… do you think you can surprise me, though? I have no ideas…” you mumbled into his chest.

“Of course,” Shouto responded back, and before you could blink, the world turned dark, sleep consuming you in a gentle embrace.

You weren’t sure if you imagined the feel of his soft lips on your forehead, but when you woke up the next morning, you were alone. The blanket was tucked around you, pillows resting under your head, and a flower sat on the coffee table before you.

A kaneshon.

A carnation.

Your cheeks warmed at the sight of it, knowing immediately that it was left behind by Shouto. Grabbing the flower within your fingers, you pressed the sweet-smelling flower to your nose. If he continued doing this, there was no stopping the way you felt towards him.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Five ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Two weeks later.

“So, what do you think of this?”

You were sitting in Shouto’s private room where he had his tattoo appointments, you were by the wall, sitting on a stool by a desk where he was showing off his tattoo design for you. It was stunning; honestly, it had everything in the world that you could be asking for.

Simple, elegant, and sophisticated.

It fit your personality, hopes, and dreams.

It was perfect.

“Wow,” you barely managed to breathe, your fingers touching the sketch he had presented to you. Was feeling it okay? You hoped so.

“Do you… do you like it?” Shouto asked, his eyes trying to read your face, but failed to see how you reacted because he was behind you.

“This is amazing, Todoroki,” you shake your head, pulling back to stare at your friend with a great smile. “I mean, I know I said I wanted you to draw me one, but I wasn’t expecting you to make it so… personalized to me.”

“...you’re special to me,” Shouto admitted, his body both relaxing and tensing under your gaze. “I had to make this special for you.”

“Well, you sure did!” you agree with a laugh, your cheeks warm with your grin. “But how much will this be?”

“4,000 yen,” Shouto answered with a straight face.

You laughed in his face, remembering that all their starting prices were much more than that, “Come on, don’t be ridiculous. How much?”

“I wasn’t lying,” Shouto confirms, his gaze unwavering. “I like you a lot, and you mean a lot to me, so I’m giving you a discount.”

Your jaw drops, you’re unable to speak, words failing you with every breath. “A discount, not a free tattoo.”

“It’s not free, I’m still making you pay.”

“Yeah, and even I know that price is absurd!”

The two of you argue for some time, the money you throw down on his desk is immediately slammed back into your wallet. You feel close to victory; that is, until Shouto threatens to make your tattoo actually free. To that, your lips twist, a defeated look in your eyes while you huff.

“Fine,” you spat, turning around ready to leave the shop, given that your break was nearing its end.

“Y/n,” he calls out suddenly, and the way that your name sounds on his lips makes you shiver. He had started to call you by your given name as of late, and to hear his warm and deep voice say your name made you wonder why you two hadn’t done this earlier. After all, the two of you were too close.

“Shouto?”

He looks ready to speak, his tongue wetting his lips while he stares at you, unsure what to say to what to do.

“What did you think of the kaneshon?”

Two weeks later and he had finally spoken about the flower he had left behind.

“It was beautiful, I loved it,” you smiled in return, but you didn’t miss the way that his eyes seemed to cloud at those words. Obviously, those weren’t the words he wanted to hear, but what was it that he wanted? “Another flower to add to my collection.”

Shouto’s lips quirk into a smile, and you watch while he reaches behind his bench and pulls out a tsubaki. You’re silent as he walks it over to you, pressing the gentle stem into your hand.

“For you,” he whispers, and you can feel your heart hammering in your ears at how close he is. The dim lights of his room, the smell of ink, bleach, and, most importantly, Shouto sending your blood into a craze.

Kiss him, your brain told you, but you were frozen, too busy counting the number of eyelashes he had.

“You didn’t buy this from me, what are you doing helping my competition?” were the words that came to your mouth instead of the confession you so wanted to give.

“No,” Shouto laughs softly, and he adjusts his position almost to give you dizzying fantasies of him kissing you. “I’m growing them, actually.”

“Oh, so you’re my competition,” you tease, and Shouto sighs, his eyes rolling and nods.

“Yeah, the tattoo shop was a decoy to us becoming the best flower shop in all of Japan.”

“Sounds like I should be worried.”

“Oh, you should.”

There was no denying the fact that the distance between your bartering lips was disappearing, but the shrill beep of your alarm destroyed the space between the two of you as you stepped away. You had an appointment to get to after all.

“Um, dinner?” you ask, stumbling to the door. “Sounds good?”

Shouto nods, his lips in a small smile, “See you then.”

With the camellia clenched tightly into your hands, your blood boiling in your destroyed passions, and the sounds of the others saying goodbye while you left, you felt weird when entering your flower shop, one thought running repetitively in your mind.

You had feelings for Shouto.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Six ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You twirled the akaichurippu in your fingers.

It had been two months since you worked out you had feelings for Shouto, one week since he had given you this flower, six days since he started avoiding you, and two days since your parents had finally returned home.

With the three of you now running the shop, you were able to relax a whole bunch more. Your parents had returned on a honeymoon mode, their gazes wistful and in love, finding it almost hard to readjust to the life they had left behind for a year. It had been a year since you had met Todoroki Shouto, and you were baffling in love with him. But you had done something obviously because he was avoiding you like the plague.

He hadn’t been over in six days, and they had been such lonely days without him. Of course, once your parents had come home, it had been grossly lively with their romantic sighs and glees, but it didn’t do much to qualm the Shouto sized hole in you.

Stupid Shouto, stupid feelings, stupid everything.

Tossing the flower onto the counter, you sat up from your slumped state, watching as your dad swung your mom in a circle. Stupid parents with their stupid love, you bitterly added while puffing out your cheeks.

“Wow, what’s that look for!” your dad caught on immediately, staring at your unamused form. He trailed his gaze down to the red akaichurippu, otherwise known as the red tulip, while your mother stood up herself.

There was a shocked gasp coming from them both, and you watched as your parents approached the counter like excited children, the flower being picked up by your mother.

“Who gave you this?!” your mother asked, her eyes sparkling in glee, and your dad seemed conflicted in the same delight, and distinctive stern dad look.

“Shouto,” you sighed, your eyes rolling.

“The one that’s ignoring you?”

“The very same!”

“That’s strange,” your dad’s eyebrows furrowed, his head tilting. “He’s just next door, and he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon… why is he ignoring you after giving you the eternal love flower?”

You froze.

“I’m sorry, what?!”

“The red akaichurippu flower is the symbol of eternal love,” your mom explained as if it was basic knowledge. “They’re much more romantic than a boring red rose, in my opinion. You’re also a florist y/n, why don’t you know these meanings or intentions?”

“Oh my god,” you said in horror, and you stood up, racing upstairs to grab the flowers you had dried and pressed. The flowers he had given you throughout this year.

Your parents were shocked when you slammed down the book with flowers, your fingers shaking excessively.

“What do these mean,” you demand, your fingers shaking while you point at the different flowers.

“Ajisai: apologies and gratitude.”

“Himawari: adoration, loyalty, and longevity.”

“Arusutoromeria: devotion, loyalty, ‘I like you,’ friendship.”

“Pink kaneshon: affection.”

“Tsubaki: humility, discretion, and perfect love.”

Red akaichurippu: eternal love.

“I have to go!” you yelled, racing out of the store, the ringing bell and following shouts of your parents doing nothing as you ran into the tattoo shop.

“Shinsou!” you called at the purple-haired man who was staffing the front desk, obviously having no scheduled appointments today. “Is Shouto—?”

“No, he’s taking his break right now,” Shinsou smirked, his eyes full of amusement, which spoke to his knowledge of what was going on. “You can go in.”

You smiled and went down the hallways of the tattoo shop that you knew intimately. You could hear the buzzing of the tattoo guns going off in Bakugou and Midoriya’s rooms, the light chatter that came with passing Kaminari’s room until you made it to Shouto’s room.

It was quiet inside, and as you opened the door to step inside, the flower in your hand feeling heavier than lead when you saw Shouto sitting at his desk, eating cold soba slowly.

“Shouto?” you called, and Shouto didn’t move, obviously ignoring you.

“Come on, don’t ignore me,” you plead, moving towards the bench only to have him turn towards you, his eyes blank, cold, angry, and burning through you when he faced you. So maybe he wasn’t ignoring you? “Okay, uh, thank you for looking at me, but I need to explain something to you!”

“Make it quick, my break’s done in two minutes.”

A cold sweat erupts in your body, and you thrust the red tulip out.

“Eternal love,” you say quickly, your body shivering at that statement, and Shouto looks at you, then at the flower, then back at you.

“Yeah, I knew that already, idiot.”

Your jaw drops, and the smallest bits of annoyance pricks at you. You often forgot what it was like to be under his calculating words and not being at his side, laughing at the victims of his words.

“Okay, well, I didn’t,” you continue on, your fists dropping at your side, annoyance, fear, happiness, and love flooding through your body. “I’m a florist, I know that. I have lived my life as the child of florists, and I have taken on their trade, but one thing I never knew about was flower meanings.”

“What?”

You shake your head, your gaze dropping to the flower in your embarrassment, “I’ve never known any flower meaning outside of funeral flowers, the red rose, and spider lilies, but that’s because of the culture behind it, not necessarily because of the language of flowers. And I was mad at you today, so I had this flower out, and my parents who do know about flower language told me what this meant, and every other flower you’ve bought for me… I didn’t realize you were confessing to me using flowers… I didn’t ever expect a tattoo artist to know the meanings! Had you been a florist yourself, then maybe I would have thought to look up the meanings behind the flowers, but I just assumed it was you picking flowers out because they were pretty.”

“Flower tattoos are popular,” Shouto breathes, his eyes swimming with flashing emotions while he rises to his feet. “It’s sort of my job to know the difference. I mean… you brought over peonies that first night, and they’re a flower you use to welcome other people, so I figured you knew.”

“No,” you laugh breathlessly. “I only picked those out because they were the only flowers I had leftover from that day… I guess you would make an amazing florist after all,” you chuckle, your heart hammering in your whole being while he stepped closer to you. “I’m a blunt person, straightforward confessions are the only way to deal with me.”

“Most blunt confessions have always ended with rejection from me,” Shouto states, his fingers grabbing onto your waist. “That tends to scare people off.”

“Try it with me,” you whisper, your fingers resting on his broad shoulders, the shiver under your skin electrifying as you knew what was happening.

“I’m in love with you, y/l/n y/n,” Shouto grinned, and you didn’t give yourself a chance at responding because you slammed your lips against his.

It was a passionate kiss, one that had your back arched into him, the flower falling from your fingers and onto the floor. Heads tilted with your dancing lips, and fuck was every gentle caress of his lips, sending your mind in a whirl.

More and more, your lips slanted against each other, and there was no say as to what was going to happen next. You pulled away, a galaxy in both your eyes and a desire, a promise for more when he would meet your lips again.

“Shouto, your three o’clock is here!”

The two of you froze, and you laughed, your lips meeting his that sought after yours for the kiss was too short.

“We’ll talk later.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #todoroki shoto x reader

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itsuki-minamy · 3 years ago

Text

LIMITED KINGSHIP, WAR STORIES:

CHAPTER 2: HEKIREKI & SENDEN

* Mini Episodes KFCN (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Suddenly he realized that the enemy was gone.

The surroundings were full of the dead. Most of the folded corpses belonged to members of the "Purgatory" clan who wore black clothes. Fifteen minutes ago, a hasty force led by Gouki Zenjo raided that warehouse after being contacted by the intelligence department. And then the warehouse turned into a terrible battlefield.

With "Hekireki" bloody on his shoulder, Zenjo started looking for the next enemy to attack. But that no longer existed.

The battle was over and the remnants were hunting. There were still some in black who resisted, but it was only a matter of time before they were crushed or smashed. While he was thinking that, Bado's iron spear pierced one of the black ones, and Azuma's twin sword stabbed another. The "Purgatory" clan member, who had decent fighting ability, didn't seem to be staying anywhere.

"How boring."

He hit the field in an unsightly way and lowered "Hekireki" to the ground.

The next moment, the pile of corpses exploded.

"Zenjo!"

Fresh blood came out from the sword wound all over the body, and flames came from both feet, the one in black clothes was good at fighting. A deadly surprise attack that hid the corpse of a colleague. Long before he understood it, Zenjo tried to shake "Hekireki" with his own super reaction.

He could not.

According to a later investigation, it was an inadvertent collaboration between those in black. One in black that lay behind Zenjo was dying, but was still breathing. With the last of his strength, he grabbed the "outside" blade, regardless of whether his fingers fell.

That caused a delay of a few seconds. Zenjo was just looking at the flaming fingers approaching in front of him, holding "Hekireki's" fixed handle.

But he just grabbed Zenjo's nose.

"You need more than that..."

The one in black clothes who attacked Zenjo stopped in midair. Blood poured from the edge of his mouth which opened and closed with bloody eyes wide open. A thin saber protruded from his chest, and the saber that pierced his chest diagonally from below suddenly stopped the one in black clothing.

"Ah!"

A cheerful voice that did not seem to belong to the place, resounded behind the one in black clothes.

"I'm sorry I made a mistake! Zenjo-san, can you take care of it please?"

It was as easy as asking him to take the remote there. After blinking, Zenjo passed by "Hekireki" and frequently shook the ones in black clothes.

The flames that clung to both feet disappeared.

The body of the man in black, who had lost his neck, was thrown to the ground. A young man standing there waved his saber and wiped off the blood. The friendly look reminded him of a laughing dog.

"No, I made a mistake. If you tap it, it can't be the case, huh? Hahaha…"

"Kuze. You saved me."

Young Kuse laughed cheerfully and waved.

"I just did something extra. Zenjo-san, you could have handled it with a margin."

"No, I couldn't react now. I would have been 'without a nose' at best, because it was aiming at my head."

"Well, is that so? That's good. Soon it's new soba season!"

Zenjo smirked as he tapped on Kuze's shoulder, saying that he was out of focus.

"This season's buckwheat noodles are pretty good too. I'll use chopsticks when I get back to the barracks. Thanks for your help."

"Oh then, make it soba."

"What? Are you going to ask me to make arrangements again?"

Kuse was smiling. Zenjo saw the smile as if he was amazed. Not suitable for a bright appearance, this young man had a very persistent character.

"Well, I wish I could go home."

"Oh, thanks!"

As Kuze struck a gutsy pose, Zenjo shrugged and walked towards a group of hurrying troops who had begun to take care of the remaining work.

++++++++++

The war was escalating.

Kagutsu Detention Center "Red King" crackdown operation. The attack from "Scepter 4" intended to kill Kagutsu Genji was unsuccessful in retrospect. Although the force of "Purgatory" was greatly reduced, the original purpose of the operation was not finally achieved, and Kagutsu left his territory and fled, and the remaining clan members divided into thousands and went into hiding. The hive was destroyed, but the queen bee and the soldier bees were flying now.

The activities of the scattered members of the "Purgatory" clan were almost the same as before. Whenever something happened, there was a danger that they would explode. "Scepter 4" chased after them and they were incapacitated as soon as they were discovered, but "Purgatory" wasn't just silently hunted to death. The damage caused by a fierce counterattack who did not care about his own life was turning into a social problem that could not be covered even by "Tokijikuin".

There were two pressing issues.

One was the search and murder of Kagutsu as soon as possible. As long as that "King" will continue to exist on earth, this war would never end.

And the other was to increase the strength of "Scepter 4".

The battle with "Purgatory", who burned the people, burned the city and even burned themselves, was slowly shaving the staff of "Scepter 4". To make up for the loss, they touted that they had the cause of the war and recruited a large number of talented personnel from the relevant ministries.

Shuichiro Kuze was one of those supplemental staff members.

Originally a police officer, he achieved outstanding results on both his aptitude and skill tests, and joined the "Scepter 4" running unit at exceptional speed. He was a rare human resource who had already been dispatched several times and was not afraid to fight the deadly "Purgatory", but instead displayed a simulation as if he was enjoying it.

For some reason, Kuze teamed up with Zenjo.

Even now, Kuze and Zenjo were undergoing simulated one-on-one training in the training ground of the "Scepter 4" barracks. Except for the fact that the product was a bamboo sword, it was a form of training that came as close to the actual battle as possible. Even attacks on key points were tolerated wherever they were covered by armor.

Kuze raised the bamboo sword to eye level and turned its blade towards Zenjo.

Zenjo carried a large bamboo sword on his shoulder and was about to attack him.

Kuze's specialty was "pushing". His stab, fired by explosive acceleration with a different ability, was roughly equal to the speed of a bullet. It would be impossible to react if it were the perception of an ordinary person.

But, of course, Zenjo was not an ordinary person.

"Let's go!"

The next moment that Kuze said that, the figure disappeared.

An extraordinary light that glowed fluttering blue like the tail of a meteor. Before recognizing it, Zenjo's body was moving. The speed God's sword judgment darted into the void on the right.

Zenjo's bamboo sword touched Kuze's sword that jutted out without fail.

"Ah!"

As he wielded the sword of pursuit, Zenjo was impressed. Viewed from above, the location of the different abilities would have looked like a rank "nine". A blow from outside the field of vision due to explosive acceleration, but it did not exceed Zenjo's reaction speed.

"Che!"

Kuze sped up again, leaving a childish click of the tongue. As he repeated sharp turns ignoring the laws of physics, he jumped incessantly. He was like a spring-loaded toy that swept across the training ground.

Zenjo stopped chasing him with his eyes and closed his lids.

Behind.

Before he felt it, his body was still moving. He turns and cut the space behind him. The cut that was shot deflected Kuze's thrust horizontally upward and hit him like he was a face shield.

"Damn!"

With a stupid voice, Kuze struck and fell to the ground of the training ground. If he had been serious, he would have lost his nose.

"This is the ninth."

Carrying the bamboo sword on his shoulder again, Zenjo said that without pride. Kuze, who had stretched out into a large shape, lifted his upper body as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I thought I could pull it off now... Zenjo-san, do you have eyes behind you?"

"Well, it's clear. You can understand it even if you can't see it."

"Mm... Zenjo-san, another one! Please."

When Kuze lifted his index finger, Zenjo was truly astonished and showed the training ground clock with his chin.

"It's closing time. It will be tomorrow."

"Really? Absolutely tomorrow!"

"I wish they hadn't sent me."

Saying that, while he was a bit crowded, Zenjo headed for the exit. Kuze also put the bamboo sword in a bag and bounced after him.

After taking a shower together, they had dinner later.

The barracks cafeteria was quiet, probably because it was late. Zenjo ordered a hazaru soba and Kuze a kitsune udon, and they ate together.

Kuze talked to Zenjo all the time while he ate.

"Zenjo-san, are you attached to the army?"

"Hmm?"

" I belonged there. There are a lot of people like that in 'Scepter 4', right?"

Surely it was so. The personnel of "Scepter 4" came mainly from other security organizations. Unless they didn't lack combat training on a daily basis, they couldn't withstand the battle with "Purgatory."

However, the situation was different for Zenjo.

After slurping his soba, he said...

"I am from a mountain."

"Mountain?"

"When I was waving a stick in the mountains, I met Habari, so I followed him."

Kuze blinked twice as he pinched the fried food with chopsticks.

"Well, what was that? What kind of situation?"

"Thanks, like I said."

Answering only that, Zenjo took a sip of soba again.

Kuze stared at Zenjo for a while with a surprised face, and then...

"Fu…"

He shook his shoulders and started laughing.

"Hahahahahahahaha! What's wrong, did you meet the commander in the mountains and follow him? Hahaha, Zenjo-san, are you a youkai?"

Zenjo was disappointed in Kuze, who bent over his body and laughed like a child. It was surprising that he was laughed at, although it was not his intention to make him laugh.

"No, sorry, I'm not going to make a fool of myself. But that was very interesting."

"Is it interesting?"

"It's incredibly interesting! I've never met such a person!"

"Mmm...?"

He wondered if that was the case. Originally, Zenjo was a guy who didn't understand many things. If they told him it was interesting, it would be true.

"No, you're good at 'Scepter 4' after all. It's not boring."

As he cheerfully said that, Kuze drank the udon from him. As Zenjo ate the soba noodles, he looked at Kuze as if he was looking at something strange.

"Bored?"

"Yes. The workplace in front of me was already boring. Anyone can do it, such as document preparation, on-site verification and traffic control. More like this, a fierce car chase with the criminal! Fighting battle! Shooting! I was imagining it."

He lifted the bowl and drank the soup.

"So it's so boring that I shouldn't do it. When I was thinking about it, they asked me and I came to try it. I can do what I want every day! It's a lot of fun, right? That's why I think you adapt very well to "Scepter 4"!

Zenjo scratched his cheeks while Kuze drank, wiped his mouth and clasped his hands with a "Thanks for the food!"

"Uh..."

"Isn't that the case with Zenjo-san? Don't you do it because it's medicinal?"

"Eh?"

He wondered if that was the case. Was he enjoying the battle with "Purgatory"?

There was no doubt that he was elevated during the battle. On the battlefield where a momentary judgment divides life and death, that feeling that inspires all cells cannot be experienced anywhere else.

But he didn't think he was struggling to taste it.

When he swung his sword under Habari's command in "Scepter 4", he felt that he was breathing properly. It seemed natural to do so and it "fit." He didn't know if he could describe it as funny.

"Well, that's correct."

It became difficult to think of the way and Zenjo answered that.

"That's right! Well, I'm glad you feel the same way as me!"

Kuze laughed in a friendly way and then a mysterious light fell on his eyes.

"But lately, it's more fun practicing with Zenjo-san than interacting with 'Purgatory'."

"Really?"

"Yes, because Zenjo-san is much stronger than them, so it's fun to do it. Hey, Zenjo-san. Someday, with me…"

Kuze cut off the words when he suddenly remembered. After blinking several times, the mysterious light disappeared. Then suddenly he stood up and held the bowl of kitsune udon in his hands.

"Sorry, it's nothing! So, good night!"

With a smile, Kuze went to the place where the dishes were being returned.

As he drank his soba, Zenjo rebelled against Kuze's words.

(Well, I'm glad you feel the same way as me!)

Maybe it wasn't.

Although they belonged to the same "Scepter 4" and wielded a saber, he felt that something was decisively different between him and Kuze.

He didn't know what it was. He didn't want to think until he knew. Thinking again that he was okay, Zenjo dropped the green onion seasoning into crushed chunks.

++++++++++

Three days later, the hidden member of the "Purgatory" clan in Minari-cho, Fengze-ku, was discovered.

According to the information department report, there was only one member. However, the problem is that he was hiding in the houses of common people. They threatened the inhabitants and parasitized their lives themselves. A bully lurked in his house and behaved inattentive. The father of the family, who could not bear such a situation, rushed to a public institution and discovered his existence.

In response to this, "Scepter 4" quickly formed a unit that rushed over. They ran to the site to "exterminate" the abominable parasite.

However, this time, it was not possible to get through the gate with the transport vehicle and cut it randomly. After all, the other party was alone and the detained hostages were a mother and two young children, according to the father's information. If they took action inadvertently, it would have the worst consequences.

The operation required speed and stealth. "Scepter 4", the deputy director, Gen Shiotsu, selected the appropriate personnel and devised a strategy.

Shuichiro Kuse was included in the staff, but it was boring for him.

Kuze was toying with that idea while biting his yawn in the car.

It had already been three hours since they arrived at the place. Because "Scepter 4" stood out in a transport vehicle, they used an ordinary sedan type and stopped from hiding to blind spot. Kuze sighed softly, looking at him stagnant out the window.

He wished he could rush in and kill him.

It would be easy. He would jump out the door, go through the second floor and invade, and drive the saber into the heart of the guy in black. That was all that was needed.

Kuze understood why he was selected as a runner. The small body was suitable for infiltration, and the "Senden" saber he had was also a slim custom-made one, so it should work effectively in a small room.

So he wanted to do it as soon as possible.

Finally, the long-awaited command came from insiders.

"The target has taken the hostage. I enclose the location."

"Yes!"

He sprang to his feet, grabbed the saber, opened the passenger seat door, and Kuze broke into a run.

In seconds, the target house came into view. When he was hiding behind the wall of a neighbor's house and observing the situation, the transmitter spoke a voice again.

"The target is in the bathroom on the second floor. The children cannot confirm the whereabouts of their mother in the next room. Each member must pay the utmost attention and do everything in their power to secure the hostages."

"Kuze, ready!"

With a light tone, Kuze pulled "Senden" out of the scabbard.

He held his breath and waited for the moment. The plan of the house is engraved on his head. All the images of how he would move, what kind of path he would take and how he would kill the one in black clothes were created in Kuze's brain.

Kuze himself did not know that there were no hostages there.

"Fast!"

By the time Shiotsu's voice echoed, Kuze was jumping.

He jumped off the wall, landed on the ceiling, and ran. At the edge of the field of vision, he could see a blue trail that went through him in the same way. There were a total of four runners, all their own competitors, who aspired to the life of a single man in black. Kuze licked his lips and accelerated to the point where the shingles broke.

He jumped with the same impulse, he broke the second floor window with his body and ran inside.

"Eh?!"

He heard a high-pitched voice. Kuze invaded the children's room on the second floor. According to the information, two children who were less than elementary school students were shaking in a corner of the room.

Kuze ignored it.

The problem was that of black clothes. If he killed him, everything would be solved. So that should take precedence. Kuze thought that way and stepped out into the second floor hallway.

Their eyes met.

There was a figure in black clothes in the bathroom that was left open. However, when Kuze found him, he was strangling and using the children's mother as a shield.

"Stay away, blue clothes! This woman will die!"

He could barely see the one in black who was angry. Very firmly, he was hiding behind the woman. The scared woman shook her head, while she shook her head, he looked and disappeared his face burned in black.

Before thinking of anything, Kuze was kicking the ground.

If he killed him, that would be it. That was the only priority, and everything else was wiped from Kuze's head.

Many things happened at the same time.

"Kuze, stop!" One of the rushing staff members yelled.

"Damn it!" The man in black's burned face turned red, and the flame-filled woman screamed in tears.

Time seemed to flow slowly. He could feel precisely the extraordinary light of "Senden", the heat of the flames that sprouted from the face of the man in black and the smell of the flesh that enveloped her.

In the slowdown time, Kuze analyzed various factors and...

(Oh, this person can't be helped anymore.), he thought.

Too easily, he cut off the hostage's life.

This being the case, the hostage's body was no longer a problem. It was just a corpse, a wall of flesh less than 8 inches.

It did not hinder "Senden".

With a half-smile, Kuze stabbed hard forward.

A bright blue tip pierced the woman's chest, and the heart of the man in black was skewered and glued to the bathroom wall.

"......"

The woman opened and closed her mouth. Kuze tilted his head and looked at her face, thinking that she looks like a dying goldfish.

When Kuze drew the saber, the woman and the one in black fell one on top of the other. Their bloods mixed.

The bodies clung to each other and wet Kuze's shoes.

He takes a breath and inform the others.

"We have deactivated the objective. The mission is complete."

At the same time, an angry sound rang out from behind.

"Kuze! Damn! What did you do?!"

He thought, and looked at the owner of the voice as if he was confused. It was Shinohara, who belonged to the same group as him. He was yelling something when he flushed with anger, but Kuze couldn't understand the meaning of the word. He turned his neck and face away to keep them from flying off.

The frozen facial expressions of the two boys, looking through the door, were reflected in Kuze's field of vision.

++++++++++

"Do you know what you did?"

"Scepter 4", Shiotsu made a heavy voice in the barracks interview room.

Shuichiro Kuze, standing in front of him, replied as if nothing had happened.

"I killed the member of the 'Purgatory' clan. I think it was an unavoidable decision in that situation."

"Right now, 'Purgatory' is not the problem. The problem is Kuze, you stabbed the hostage and killed her."

"I did not murder her. At that time, the woman had already been killed by the one in black clothes. Should I be so reprimanded for damaging her corpse?"

Shiotsu had various reports in front of him.

"Shinohara's report is different. At that time, Shinohara said that the woman was still alive. However, he testified that you ignored the warning and approached the black-robed one and went through him."

"In my eyes, she looked dead."

Kuze spoke clearly.

"I think it would have been difficult to help her, even if she had a break. Is it the right decision to leave the dangerous clansman to help a dying woman? If the action was delayed, hers, two of her children and I could have been euthanized."

"It is not you who should judge whether the woman would be saved or not."

"The judgment of the site should be left to the members of the site."

Shiotsu groaned softly.

What Kuze said was correct in some respects. In the battle with "Purgatory", a momentary misjudgment could be fatal. And that moment came innumerably. It was not enough to have many lives if they were all compared with the regulations of the body and the current law. Above all, Kuze said that a certain amount of excessive acts should be allowed to protect one's life.

But…

Shiotsu watched Kuze's expression.

There was no expression floating there. Self-blame, regret, remorse. He couldn't read any of the emotions the one with the almost innocent human hands would have.

Shiotsu muttered to himself that that was the real problem.

"Kuze..."

At that moment, Shiotsu silently inhaled, and then...

"Where do you think the meaning of 'Scepter 4' is?"

"Eh…?"

"Answer it. What's 'Scepter 4' for?"

For the first time, the color of hesitation reached Kuze's expression.

As he listened to Shiotsu, Kuze replied.

"Kill the enemy. Annihilate "Purgatory" and bring peace to society."

Shiotsu sighed deeply and said.

"No. You are definitely misunderstanding."

"......"

"Our mission is to protect the general public. The sword to protect those who cannot resist the weapon of incompetence, that is 'Scepter 4'."

"It's the same as I said, right?"

In the words that Kuze muttered, unprecedented emotions appeared.

He was frustrated.

"Killing those in black clothes is to protect the general public. If they are left unattended, tens or even hundreds of people will die if they are not treated well. To avoid that, isn't it natural to leave two people alone?"

"Still, we should not be the ones to kill. We should be the ones to protect the people. If there is a defenseless civilian, that is why we have the power to protect ourselves."

"It's stupid."

Kuze laughed through his nose. His dark and bright gaze seemed harsher, as he generally had a friendly gaze.

"Why do we have to do that? It is so stupid for a good person to be sacrificed for an inferior person."

Shiotsu closed his eyes.

What swirled around his chest was not anger at Kuze, but responsibility for himself.

He may have been too impatient to make up for the personnel lost in the battle with "Purgatory". He had hired a person who lacked the most important qualities, distracted only by the ability to fight. He should have known well what would happen if that person had a different ability and special power.

People who cannot control themselves will eventually use their different abilities as they wish.

How is it different from "Purgatory"?

Shiotsu slowly opened his eyes and said in a low voice,

"Shuichiro Kuse. Say goodbye to "Scepter 4" from now on."

++++++++++

Kuze, who came out of the interview room, was looking vaguely at the ceiling of the hallway.

(I blew it.), he thought.

With that in mind, he sighs. This time, he looked down at the ground and started walking.

When he was called by Shiotsu, Kuze had decided what he should do. That was a field decision and he didn't think he had done anything wrong. He intended to stick to that statement.

It is the members of the field who exchange lives. However, it was not uncommon for him to be blamed for a later trial. It was a common feeling not only for Kuze but also for the ER personnel.

Shiotsu was smart and looked closely at the members. That is why he thought that he would not give such a severe punishment based on his thoughts.

"He was telling me something strange."

Kuze lied and looked at his hand. When he focused his consciousness there, the blue glow of the extraordinary shimmered.

It was proof that he was an excellent person and a chosen one.

Kuze couldn't respond well to Shiotsu's words asking the meaning of "Scepter 4". That was because Kuze didn't know. Therefore, he got a rag out of there. It didn't matter if the general public died or lived, he knew that his true intentions would probably not be forgiven within the organization, so he hid it.

The important thing for Kuze was to use that power in all directions to fight. Fight "Purgatory", bypass the momentary deadline and end the life of the enemy. Never in a dull life until now, was it a bright day.

That was stolen from him.

Because he took a boring life from a boring human.

Kuze sighed again and suddenly raised his face.

A familiar giant was walking down the hall. Kuze laughed and raised a hand.

"Hey, Zenjo-san."

"Oh, Kuze?"

Zenjo's eyebrows widened when he noticed that Kuze was there for the first time.

"What are you doing in a place like this? Is it training?"

"No."

Kuze laughed bitterly and...

"Hey, I've been preaching to the vice principal. I'm here for that."

"Oh, Shiotsu? It's loud."

Sympathy reached Zenjo's eyes. Seeing that, Kuze's smile changed to a natural one.

That person knew himself.

He had always felt that way. Zenjo, like himself, rejoiced in the fight. He was a person who should have the nature of killing people rather than helping people. So, Kuze was sure that if he talked about the situation, this person would be on his side.

"But you're almost right."

Zenjo simply denied the idea.

"Eh?"

"Shiotsu is loud, but he's always right. If he claims something from you, you're wrong. I wonder what he was. Apologize properly."

"......"

Kuze looked at his toes.

"Yes, what is that?"

"If that is all."

"I see."

Kuze scratched his head again with a bitter smile.

"In a way that's correct. I thought it was suitable for 'Scepter 4', but surprisingly, isn't it?"

"Eh?"

Zenjo mysteriously shook his head, thought for a moment and then nodded.

"That's right. You said you were the same as me, but I think you are different from me."

"......"

"I can't put it right. You might not be good at 'Scepter 4'. You should stop in time."

Zenjo said that in a wonderful and irresponsible way.

Kuze was about to start laughing. Interestingly, he didn't get mad at all. This was because it had been broadcast that Zenjo was saying that from the bottom of his heart without any malicious intent.

After all, Kuze didn't dislike Zenjo. He was clean, natural, and stronger than anyone. That's why he liked dealing with this person, because he could fight without shackles.

He regretted thinking that he couldn't do that from now on.

Then, Kuze suddenly glowed.

"Ah!"

"Hmm? What's wrong?"

"Sorry Zenjo-san, I just remembered my errand now! I'm done!"

In a hurry, Kuze ran down the hall. Zenjo said, "Oh...?", and gave up, but Kuze suddenly stopped and looked back.

"Please help me again later!"

Zenjo laughed and nodded.

"Oh, I have to be sent."

"Still, please!"

Kuze ran away, saying just that with a smile.

It was that night that Shuichiro Kuze disappeared with "Senden".

++++++++++

When he got out of the transport car, a warm wind caressed Zenjo's cheeks.

The policeman raised his face and smelled a faint smell on the wind. He was delving into the battlefield with "Purgatory". He smelled like sticky, burnt blood.

According to the map, the back alley where the discovery of the men in black was reported was divided into T-shapes. The unit split into three hands, blocking all exits. The most important thing to prevent was that those in black clothes escaped. They had to make sure to capture or neutralize them, even if they took some risks.

At that moment, in front of Zenjo, the entrance to the back alley was black and open.

"Over there."

At random, Zenjo entered an alley.

The back alley was narrow and dark. Polyethylene buckets and outdoor units blocked the street, and the walls of the building that approached from the left and right blocked the sunlight. If one in black clothes came out of the shadows and emitted a flame of extraordinary skill, there would be no way around it. It could be said that this was also a dead place.

Still, Zenjo was not afraid and advanced slowly.

The process suddenly stopped.

Shinohara, who was following Zenjo, said groaning.

"What is the situation? What is this?"

One in black clothes was dead, as if his back was against the wall of the building.

Wide-eyed and in a pool of blood. The burned right hand was soaked in the blood clot, burning and producing black smoke. This was probably the cause of the smell.

In the first place, it was a mystery from the initial discovery report.

It was said that several of the black clothes were fighting. At the time, there were no "Scepter 4" units deployed nearby, and since the Hiiragi incident, the police had been told to stay away from the men in black. Most likely it was a fight between those in black, but in the current situation where they were hiding in a scattered way, he did not think they would do such an outstanding act.

So who was fighting the ones in black?

Zenjo, who was inspecting the corpse in black, said the answer.

"It's Kuze."

"What…?!"

"It is pierced all over the body. This is due to 'Senden'."

Saying that, Zenjo stood up.

Since that night, Kuze's whereabouts have been known to be uncertain. Kuze's legal status was the same as an "Illegal Strain" since he was fired from "Scepter 4". They had to capture him and put a skill suppressor on him, but there weren't enough personnel to track him down in "Scepter 4".

Kuze killed the ones in black and, perhaps, he was still hiding in that place.

"But why is Kuze here?"

Shinohara said that, and suddenly closed his mouth.

Someone slowly emerged from the darkness behind the alley.

It was also one of black clothes.

"Oh, fufu...!"

His face was distorted with anger and hatred, and blood was pouring from his entire body to the point that his black suit was still drenched in red and black. Legs wobbly, the one in black slowly approached.

"Gah!"

The tip of the saber protruded from his chest.

The saber was instantly pulled out and the one in black collapsed to his knees.

Zenjo spoke the name from behind him, standing there.

"Hekireki."

"Oh, Zenjo-san!"

Dressed in a dark green raincoat, Kuze smiled at his face, which had been bathed in blood, and called out to Zenjo cheerfully.

"No, I'm lucky! I can't get it all of a sudden!"

"What are you doing?"

"What?"

Eyes blinking, Kuze looked around him, and mysteriously at himself.

"What's wrong? It's not a job. I got fired from 'Scepter 4'."

He shook "Senden" to spill the blood.

"But if you look for the black clothes, 'Scepter 4' will come, right? Maybe Zenjo-san is there! I thought it was good."

While he smiled, Kuze,

"I never thought we could meet at once! I'm lucky! So…"

He crouched down and pointed the tip of "Senden".

"Let's go."

Before Zenjo thought of anything, Kuze was kicking the ground.

The glow of the blue genie was diffusely reflected in the narrow back alley. He bounced off the ground, scaled walls, emergency stairs, he went up, down, left and right, and hit everything, drawing an unpredictable trajectory like a pinball.

Shinohara, who was behind Zenjo, couldn't even follow Kuze with his eyes. But Zenjo reacted.

It was also an action before thinking. The thick blade of "Hekireki" flipped up as the wind scattered.

The dark green raincoat split in half.

Kuze was no longer there. He twisted in midair, tossed his raincoat, and landed on the ground.

Zenjo kept "Hekireki" jumping and stopped in an unprotected posture. Looking at his empty torso, a fierce smile appeared on Kuze's mouth.

(I caught you!), he thought.

With extraordinary power in his legs, Kuze tried to strike a stroke of luck.

He felt the shock in his chest.

"Eh?"

He lost the strength of his leg. His soles did not separate as if they were stuck to the ground. Interestingly, he looked under his feet and saw a saber thrust into his chest.

"Ah?"

When he coughed, a blood clot spilled from his lips.

Kuze slowly looked at Zenjo.

Zenjo was flipping "Hekireki", with just his right hand.

Before he knew it, he held another saber in his left hand. That pierced through Kuze's chest.

"Oh, wow...!"

Kuze distorted the edge of his mouth when he heard Shinohara make a panicky voice.

"Hey, Shinohara. It's a pay cut to have a saber stolen from you."

When Zenjo drew the saber, Kuze sank into place.

The blood was overflowing. The color of his face was white and transparent. It was clear to everyone that it was no longer useful.

Still, Kuze was somewhat satisfied. He looked at Zenjo and laughed weakly.

"After all... you are amazing, Zenjo-san. I couldn't get over you."

"Kuze."

There was no anger or sadness in Zenjo's expression, just confusion.

"What did you want to do?"

"What?"

Kuze shook his shoulders and laughed. Eventually the laughter turned into a cough and the exhaled blood created a series of stains in the alley.

"I wanted to. A real and potentially deadly battle with Zenjo-san."

Breathing out, Kuze fell onto his side.

"It was fun."

That was the last word from him.

Zenjo, holding a bloody saber, shot a confused look at Kuze's corpse.

#k #k project #k fan clan #scepter 4 #habari jin #shiotsu gen #zenjo gouki #kagutsu genji

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maddiwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 24)

Pairing: JJ x OC

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister.

Note: Here we go!!!!! The final chapter to this series/rewrite!!!! Thank you to everyone who’s stayed with me and has left me with great feedback and compliments. I’m so grateful! I loved writing this series and I’m looking forward to season 2! As always I love you all and forever grateful for every single one of you!

Word Count: 4k

Chapter 23 Masterlist

JJ pulls me aside by Kie's car and lets me silently cry into his shoulder while he kisses the top of my head and tells me everything is going to be okay in sweet whispers. I let him hold me because I feel like I can finally breathe for the first time in weeks.

"I should have went with him," I mumble for the millionth time in his shoulder.

"Trust me, if nothing else kills him first, you would." I pull away and give him a confused look. He quickly explains with a small grin. "I think the reason you two lasted so long together was because the three of us were there to buffer most of your fights."

"It's not my fault he's stupid." I smirk.

"See?" JJ says like he just made his point.

I roll my eyes and look over at Pope and Kie when I finally hear them talking like friends again.

"I'm sorry for acting like a dumbass," Pope stammers. "I was just upset and I was acting petty..."

"Yeah," Kie agrees with him.

"And I just..."

"It's okay."

"...just wanna be friends again."

Another round of thunder rumbles above us and I know it's going to rain any second. But that's not what has my attention. It's the way Kie moves closer to Pope and how her hand gently caresses his cheek. Then their lips meet and they're embraced together as one.

My mouth physically drops to the floor and I cover it with my hand. I can't believe what I'm seeing. Only hours before, the two of them couldn't be further away from this moment. Pope hated her and Kie was adamant about being nothing but friends. I guess Kie did have a thing for Pope. She tried convincing herself otherwise and it didn't work.

JJ laughs next to me and squeezes me tighter to his side. He shakes his head but smiles proudly at his best friend for finally making his move.

Unfortunately, the moment is ruined by another wave of police sirens closer than I wish they were.

"Hey, guys, I'm sorry to ruin the party, but, uh, we gotta go right now," JJ says. Kie and Pope pull away from each other, both of them wearing delirious grins. "Come on!"

As we move towards the car, a round of about four different cop cars surround us with their red and blue lights and loud sirens. JJ backs up, making sure I'm right behind him by clutching my wrist behind his back.

"Pope..." Kie says worriedly.

"Move! Hands up! Hands up!" Officer Shoupe approaches us first with a mean scowl on his face. He looks at each one of us, no doubt looking for John B.

"Pope, hands," Kie says through clenched teeth when Pope hesitates to comply.

Shoupe's eyes land on mine and he holds my stare for a second longer than everyone else's. I make sure to keep my face stoic and unreadable even though I want to proudly smirk in his face and even say 'ha ha.'

"We're too late. He's gone. God damn it!" He says to his team. He speaks into his radio strapped on his shoulder. "Bratcher, have your guys stand down. Let me talk to these kids." Shoupe approaches us again and looks directly at me. "All right, where the hell is he? Where the hell is he?" When I don't say anything or even as much breathe in his direction, he looks at JJ. "JJ? I see you're living up to your name." Then he looks at Pope. "Pope, how about you? This isn't a fucking game! You can do the right thing now! Where'd he go?" Shoupe glances one last time at me before looking behind my shoulder. He pulls his radio up to his lips. "Suspect has just left Station 26 in a small boat."

The man on the radio responds. "Need marine patrol to respond."

Another crack of thunder strikes a new wave of nerves through my body. John B's barely out of here and I don't know if the storm is going to hold off long enough to give him a steady getaway.

Next thing I know we're being tossed in two separate vehicles. I keep my teeth clenched and my eyes forward. I pretend to look strong and committed when all I feel is nervous and scared.

The police bring us into a large tent set up to protect them from the rain. I'm literally in shock by how many people are here, working together to find my brother. Many men and women walk past us with rain jackets with the letters FBI on their backs in gold bold letters. I'm literally speechless by how important these people think my brother is.

Every word that comes from these people's mouths sound like a code I'm trying to decipher as they speak to one another.

"They're still trying to verify..."

"Mobilized..."

"Follow Plumb to that tent..."

"Wait for your friends..."

"...SBI on the scene..."

"They killed a person."

"This way." Someone physically tugs on my arm and pulls me to sit on a row of plastic chairs with my friends.

"...That's all you can say?"

Shoupe stands in front of me, temporarily distracting me from trying my best to eavesdrop on the other agents. "Sit down. Don't move. We got a lot to talk about." He looks at the agent who pulled me by my wrist. "Keep an eye on these kids."

I look up at the agent placed on babysitting duty. Younger, fit, brunette, stubble. He looks at each one of us like he's studying us, placing a mental bet on which one is going to break first. His gaze lands on me and he holds it longer than he did the others. They probably recognize my face as easily as they would recognize my brother's.

There's a lot going on inside and out this tent. Agents speak so fast with one another you might think they're speaking a different language. Every time thunder rumbles above us, I don't know if it's my heart or my stomach swirling with nausea. Rain is pouring down outside, each drop pelting against the concrete and drowning out the demands and orders of every superior agent.

The lights are bright against the dark wall that is outside. If I keep my eyes open for too long I think my head is going to explode.

I feel fingers interlocking with my right hand. JJ's looking at me like he's waiting for me to break like a fragile vase teetering off the countertop. I nod my head in a silent way of saying thank you and that I'm still confident our plan is going to work.

"Hey, we're back up. We got power," I hear someone announce.

My head snaps forward. I look outside the flaps of the tent opening. I can barely see the lighthouse, but the light circling around it is bright enough to light up the entire island.

"Shit," I curse to myself.

Ironically, power is all I wanted this summer. Mentally and, because of Hurricane Agatha, physically. But now, I dread it.

"That's them! There they are!"

Dozens of agents run outside with their binoculars, flashlights, and guns, and tasers. Immediately I stand up to follow, but just as quickly, I'm pushed back into my seat by our babysitter agent who isn't even cool enough to get an FBI windbreaker.

Kie's looking at me with as much fear as I'm feeling. My leg bounces anxiously and the hand I'm not using to squeeze JJ's is wrapped around the bottom of my seat tight enough to turn my knuckles white.

I try peering out through the plastic 'windows' of the tent which are just clear plastic tarps cut out in squares in the tent. Boats with red, white, and blue lights chase after another boat in the water - a boat that would be impossible to see if the lighthouse was still out of power.

"Subject is changing heading. They're heading south."

I look at our baby sitter's radio that's gripped tightly in his hand.

"Subject is attempting to escape to the south."

I look at JJ with wide eyes. "He's going straight into the storm."

I don't know if it's a second, a minute, or an hour later, but my name is being called. Another agent, this one more superior than the others, stands in front of me. He's tall, bald, has light brown skin, and bright hazel eyes. He's not smiling but he looks pleased with himself nonetheless and I don't know why because John B isn't captured yet.

"I think your brother would like to speak with you," He says.

My jaw tightens and I narrow my eyes in his direction. I don't believe him. John B wouldn't ask for me unless he knew this was the end. And it isn't. It can't be.

But if it is and I don't talk to my brother one last time, I will hate myself forever.

So I follow him despite the calls of disagreement coming from my friends. He and a couple agents behind him pull me into another tent where more important agents are running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

People move out of my way like I'm Paris Hilton and they're the paparazzi. They look at me like I'm a celebrity and they're speechless with surprise and judgement.

But I don't care about the FBI, Kildare's cops, the rain or the storm. I care about the man sitting on the other end of the fold up table with a pair of headphones around his head and a fake look of concern on his face.

Ward looks up. When he sees me, he looks like he's seen a ghost.

"Ms. Routledge," The agent says to grab my attention.

I'm placed in a seat in front of Ward on the other side of the table. I don't take my eyes off of him for even a second. It's the first time I'm seeing him since our day on his boat. I hate that he's sitting here like he's a fucking victim and not the man who should be behind bars. I hate that he's being treated like an ally while my brother is being chased like a criminal.

But I love that he's looking at me like I can change all of that.

I take the headset from a woman agent next to me and place them on top of my head. I'm instantly met with rustling and whistling of the wind. A couple of disgruntled grunts swim through my ears and I know I'm listening to John B rolling through the storm on the Phantom.

"Don't listen to him. He's a liar!" John B yells into his radio. His voice comes out through the FBI's speaker so everyone can hear. Ward's lips press into a thin line and his hands tighten around the circular end of the headphones by his ear.

They must have tried to get Ward to talk John B down first. Maybe it's because Ward is technically still our legal guardian or maybe...

Maybe Sarah ended up finding him after all.

Ward finally rips his eyes away from me and looks down. "John B, I am begging you. Think of her and turn around." I'm met with nothing but heavy breathing from the other end. I hold my own breath and make sure not to move even an inch so I don't miss a single word that my brother has to say. My heart feels like it's being twisted, shredded, and torn apart by a wild bear. John B is in danger. Not by the cops but by mother nature herself. Out in the ocean where he can disappear forever. Just like my father did. And the thought itself is absolute torture. "John B, what are you doing?"

There's another long pause with seconds lasting as long as hours. My hear skips a beat when my brother finally speaks up again. "Ward Cameron, do you hear me?"

Ward looks at me again and slowly brings nods. "Yes. Yes, son, I'm right here. I'm right here. Please bring her back, okay? We'll work it all out when you get home."

I jump up from the table so fast, my hips bump against the table and shake the radio display on it. "You son of a bitch!" I yell at him, not caring about the hands pushing me by my shoulders to sit back down. Or the barks of other agents telling me to calm down. I want to rip Ward's head off his stupid shoulders and punt it into the deepest part of the ocean. Or a log shredder.

"You killed my father!" John B shouts through the speaker. It's the only thing that actually gets me to calm down and I glare straight into Ward's eyes. I don't pay attention to how the agents react to John B's accusation, because even with the truth out there, I don't trust them to move on it. At the end of the day Ward Cameron is Ward Cameron and my brother is just John Booker Routledge. "And you framed me for a murder I didn't commit. You took everything from me! You took everything from me! But I'm still here. And I swear to God, Ward, I will come back one day and take what's mine. So, you listen to me, all right? I'm coming for you." A small smirk tugs at the corner of my lips and a sense of pride runs through my fingertips from John B finally standing up for himself. "I'm coming for you."

For once, Ward Cameron looks shitless. Like he did when he realized his mistake on our fishing trip.

"You." The agent next to me points at the radio set and looks at me. "Talk to him! Talk to him!"

I look back at Ward Cameron and place the headset on my head. A crack of thunder shakes around me and I physically flinch away from it. "John B?"

Another pause. Silence that is deafening. "Marleigh? You okay?"

I can't help but laugh. "Come on, brother. You should know by now cops don't scare me."

I can actually hear John B laugh on the other end and it's the only thing that makes me feel better. "Yeah, I know."

"Are you sure about this, Johnny?"

I swallow the lump in my throat as I wait for his reply. "I'd rather die than go to jail for something I didn't do, Mar."

I feel the wall I put up when I was placed in front of Ward Cameron crumble within seconds. Tears cloud my vision at the realization that nothing I can do will stop John B from driving straight into that storm. And I hate that I understand him for it. Because I would do the same thing.

I look up at Ward as tears trail down my cheeks silently. I can tell he's calculating my next move, waiting for me to stop my brother.

"I'll take care of this, okay?"

"I know. You've always taken care of me." His voice cracks and another ripple of thunder rips through the sky. "I love you, Rocket."

A sob wracks through me and I push myself away from the microphone so he doesn't hear me feeling weak. When I gather my composure I push myself closer to the radio. "I love you, Bird."

The head agent slams his palm against the table in frustration. "No!"

I close my eyes and let the tears drown my vision. I feel like I've been placed in an ice bath. Frozen to the core, wanting to kick and scream my way out of it, feeling numb but also like I'm being ripped apart by something sharp.

Another agent walks out. "I wanna have Search and Rescue standing by."

"Any response?" A woman asks another agent.

That other agent shakes his head. "They're not calling it off yet."

Everyone's running around, talking into their ear pieces and looking at one another for any kind of clue on what to do next. I refuse to look at them because I know what's going to come next.

John B use to tell me that being a pessimist would be my downfall. He was always an optimist - hoping and aiming for the best. Believing Dad was alive kept him going where telling myself he wasn't helped me move on. Growing up, we would butt heads a lot. But as a team, we worked well together because he pushed me to go further in life and I helped him stay grounded when it was necessary.

But today, being a pessimist is my strength. Because I'm prepared when Officer Shoupe approaches me with a sullen and sorrowful expression. I don't even have to ask what's wrong because I know it's the last thing I want to hear.

"Marleigh," He says. I think it's the first time he's ever talked to me like I'm a person with feelings and not some teenager causing chaos on his island.

I'm nauseous. My heart is thudding against my chest so heavily I think it might crack a couple ribs. The blood running through my veins feels like it's been lit on fire and I'm on the verge of exploding. The dread and the devastation runs through me in half a second and then is suddenly replaced by a blinding white flare of rage.

"You!" I turn on my heels and try running up to Ward Cameron to wrap my hands around his throat, to pull a gun from the nearest agent and shoot him in the head with it, to tear his eyes out with my finger nails. But I'm easily stopped by the millions of agents that surround both of us. They physically pull me away, barely even flinching as I try clawing through them to get my hands on the entitled Kook in front of me. "This is all your fault! You son of a bitch! I'm going to kill you! No - get off of me!"

I kick and scream until my throat is raw and my legs feel weak. Ward is pulled away from me so he can grieve the death of his own daughter. I only stop thrashing around when my body goes limp. My legs are rubber and my head is heavy. I fall to the floor and fold into my knees and cry the hardest I have ever cried before. I cry for the loss of my brother. For Sheriff Peterkin. For the justice my dad will never get. For the gold he's worked so hard to get live on without his name ever being mentioned with it.

I don't know how long I stay on the floor until someone helps me up. They place a windbreaker over my shoulders and walk with me to the tent where my friends are waiting for me.

My heart is a bloodless organ, my head a hollow skull. I can't feel anything from the thinnest part of my fingertips to the deepest emotion in my brain.

I follow Officer Shoupe and two other agents back to my friends like a zombie. I can't even look at my friends because I'm afraid they'll feel the same heated pain that I'm experiencing and I don't want that.

Shoupe looks at them the same way he looked at me.

"Did you find them?" JJ immediately stands up. He tries meeting my eyes but I keep them focused on the dirt ground below me.

"No," Shoupe says.

"So, they got away?" I hate the hope laced in JJ's voice.

Another crackle of thunder makes me flinch.

Shoupe sighs. "We, uh...we lost them." He looks up. "I'm sorry."

A deafening silence falls around us and I finally look up. JJ's brows are pinched together in confusion and anger, Kie's about to burst into tears, and Pope looks frozen in shock.

"What do you mean you lost them?" Pope asks. "Like they're gone?"

"What are you talking about?" JJ demands.

Again Shoupe sighs. "They took an open boat into a tropical depression, Pope."

"So they're dead?" Pope asks.

"We don't know."

JJ snaps. He takes a threatening step towards the set of officers and points an accusatory finger at them. "You drove them through the storm, man! Are you kidding me? Come here!" It takes two agents to pull JJ away from Officer Shoupe. "I'm gonna kill you."

I don't even react to the outburst because I can't. I can't feel anything other than my own teeth clattering together and my lip quivering with the threat of a new round of tears.

"JJ, stop!" Kie tries to calm him down through her own sobs. But even I know, she's wasting her breath.

"I'm gonna kill you, you bastard!"

"Hey!" An agent scolds him.

"You killed him! He didn't kill anyone and you know it!" Pope yells along with JJ. He doesn't try to attack like the blonde, but he makes sure to get as close to Shoupe as possible.

Shoupe sighs. "We're still looking for him, all right?"

"Pope. Pope, just stop!" Kie pleads. She grabs onto Pope's arm and pulls him closer into her body. "Please, stop."

When JJ proves he's calm, he pulls me into him and holds me tight against his chest. I wrap my arms around his waist and let myself fall apart for a second time. I cry into his shoulder, not caring about the snot or tears that will probably ruin his second best button down shirt. I grip onto him so tight that I wouldn't be surprised if my fingernails ripped holes into the fabric. He's the only reason I'm still standing on my two feet. I can't feel my legs.

"Pope...Pope!"

Mr. and Mrs. Heyward run into the tent followed by Kie's parents. All four of them run to their kids and pull them into their own family group hugs.

I watch even though the sight destroys me. Kie with her two parents. Pope with his. I observe the way they hold their children, kiss the top of their head, and tell them everything is going to be alright. Pope keeps mumbling about how sorry he is and Kie is weeping into her mothers neck.

They have that and I don't. Not anymore. It's all been ripped away from me like a toddler and chocolate they're not allowed to have.

But it makes me even more grateful for JJ. Even though I hate that he's in the same boat as me, I know I can always rely on him to be by my side. We have each other and even though it doesn't always seem like enough, it is.

There's nothing that I wouldn't do for this man. He's my light at the end of a dark and dreary tunnel. My guide in life to live it to the fullest without any regrets. My life partner that's going to make me the happiest girl on the island one day. I couldn't ask for anything more from the love of my life.

Mr. Heyward looks up from his family moment and holds out his arm for JJ and I to join. JJ and I take advantage of it and let Pope's parents hold us like a parent should, despite any hateful feelings they have towards us for leading Pope down this road with us.

My brother's gone and I don't know how to comprehend that yet. I don't know where life's going to lead me and the future went from being adrenaline inducing to absolutely terrifying. With Kie, Pope, and JJ by my side, I'm hopeful that I can get through pretty much anything.

JJ's my rock and my leader. I will love him until the universe physically pulls him away from me. With him, I'll take on life one day at a time. Each one will be a struggle, but I made a promise to John B that I refuse not to keep until the day I die.

I will take care of this. I will make sure Ward Cameron gets what's coming to him. And I will not let him take anything else away from me. Not even over my dead body.

Taglist: @notyourcupofteax @acvross-the-universe @jjmaybankzz @moniamaybank @realistic-breadstick @urbinoutfiters @jeeperky @brebear121 @x-lulu @freddymaybank @jjpouggues @lemur46 @is-it-really-a-secret @kkmikayla @folkloverr @alexa-playafricabytoto @jjxrudy @migilini @buckysbcrnes @rochyu @itsagurl @dazzlingnights

#jj maybank #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x oc #outer banks rewrite

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