#i say this kindly of course cause i know some folks wanted to see it. but im happy we didnt get it we didnt need it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

liz6306 · 2 years ago

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PH Katsuki x Folk Singer Reader

Word count: 1’373 words

Pairing: PH Katsuki Bakugou x GN Folk Singer Reader

Note: So I can totally see pro hero Katsuki going to a bar one night with friends. (of course he makes it seem like he’s reluctant but he really isn’t.) He honestly expects that the bar is going to be boring as just a few minutes in, they already some drunken old geezer performing on stage. But then, just as he deems his night to be done and over with, Mina begs him to stay and listen to her friend perform at least once. It’s then Katsuki sees Y/N up on stage that his mind is changed for him, he immediately sits back down and stays till the show ends, practically forcing Mina to tell him when the folk singer will be singing once again.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Katsuki was already tired, and the last thing he wanted to do after work was drink with his rowdy group of friends. He had told them time and time again, that he’d rather be at home catching some sleep as he wasn’t a big music fan— but they all wouldn’t give it up, begging him to come and see this local singer.

He thought it was stupid. Wasting his time on some singer…

The spiky haired blond huffed as he entered the pub with his friends, all of them talking animatedly about a hard day’s work. “It’s great to be back!” Denki would cry out with relief, acting as if he hadn’t been here just a week prior to now. “Dude, you were here a week ago.” Sero then reminds him, causing the electric user to blush slightly as he waves his dark haired friend off. Mina as always, looks overjoyed to be back as well, waiting excitedly for her old high school friend to take the stage like they do every Thursday. Her excitement was sweeping over the room and Katsuki was growing annoyed with it as he sat he Kirishima who gave him a sympathetic look, knowing the man would have rather been home by now.

The blonde turned to the bartender with tired vermillion eyes shining under the warm lantern lights of the bar, asking gruffly, “Can I get a whiskey over here?” The bartender working seeing a familiar expression on the other side of the bar would simply nod, understanding the blonde’s pain. “If it makes you feel better, Karaoke ends in about thirty minutes.” Kirishima tries with the grumpy man.

“I’ll be out of here by thirty minutes.” Katsuki answers simply, taking a swig of his whiskey that the bartender ever so kindly provided him with.

He noticed Kirishima huff and roll his eyes, but he says nothing as he didn’t want to start any petty arguments with the redhead. He instead tries to engross himself with his drink, ignoring the old man who sang in slurs up on the stage. His friends try to bring him into their conversation but even then he remains in his shell, really not wanting to be there. Katsuki watches the clock tick, sighing every five-ten minutes, he’d glance to the door and then right back to the clock in a vicious pattern of boredom, wondering when his torture was to end. For in between his chattering friends, the background talking in the bar, the sounds of drinks clunking against tables and the poetically written words of a song being misinterpreted by the slurs of a drunken fool- Katsuki found himself feeling lost and out of place in such a scene. This place was one that often accompanied itself with people like his friends, people who liked to embrace a social setting. It wasn’t a great place for people like him- who more so preferred to settle into their own space at the end of the day and go about their nightly routines.

Nevertheless, Katsuki suffered through it for a good thirty minutes.

He just decided it would be best to leave before the next intoxicated idiot could wobble up onto the stage. The blond got up with a tired grunt, some of his joints popping from him suddenly moving after he had been still for so long. The noise caught the attention of his friends though, who all looked at him with furrowed brows. “Hey man, Y/N hasn’t gone on yet- where are you off to?” Denki asked happily, not catching onto Katsuki’s annoyed and fed up expression.

“I’m going home.” Katsuki deadpans as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. His friends all looked upset with him as soon as he had said that though, immediately voicing their protests. “Come on, man! You haven’t even met Y/N yet!” Kirishima argued first whilst his grumpy friend scoffed. “And I don’t care to, so I’m out of here.” Is what Katsuki responds with, ready to push past them all. “Katsuki, please stay! I’ve been wanting you and Y/N to meet for ages! They already know about you and they said that they’d want to meet you!” Mina cuts in next and the blonde snapped his head in her direction. “Are you all trying to fucking set me up!?” He asked, his temper now flaring as he glared them all down. It was only Sero’s comment that both assured him and pissed him off that they weren’t. “Even if we were, They’re way too good for you.” Was the snide remark made by the tape-hero. Katsuki scoffed and gave the black haired man an unamused look, the group laughing slightly well Mina stood, her eyes pleading her friend to stay. “Just listen to one song, please.” She spoke gently and Katsuki could only groan as he relented.

The blond sits back down and watched as the stage was set up for the next performance, waiting impatiently for this person.

“Where the fuck are-”

“Look, here they come!” Kirishima cheers, the blond glaring at him as he didn’t appreciate being interrupted in the slightest. He then rolls his eyes, turning back to the performer and freezing. If they weren’t a perfect sight then he didn’t know what was. He adored the way the light was shining on their skin, giving it a soft glow as gentle shadows contrasted it, the specks of the lantern-light that lit up their eyes on the stage made the colorful hues pop out in the cozy bar and it emphasized their little idiosyncrasies in a unique manner. He could pick out the little things, like how their hair complimented their face-shape or how their eyes scanned over the crowd, brightening when they met with Mina’s.

Or how they landed on him with curiosity lacing their gaze…

He swears that he felt his heart stop, his throat constricting on itself when they gave him an awkward smile and a quick wave. Katsuki now stuck admiring how parts of their face would crease or scrunch up when a smile spread on their lips, he admired even the slightest twitch of their brow as all of it simply intrigued him.

The man didn’t even know what to do when they started to strum chords on their guitar, they seemed to be rather happy as they began to tap their foot against the stage- sometimes knocking on the bottom of their guitar when they had a quick interval between the song. He was practically holding his breath as he waited for them to start singing, curious to hear what they sound like.

Needless to say, they didn’t disappoint.

Katsuki wasn’t a big fan of music, he didn’t listen to it a lot and he certainly didn’t listen to folk tunes often- but he supposed that he’d have to make an exception. For the singer on stage was good enough to be that exception.

The easy timbre of their voice was hypnotic, sending waves into his mind that had him relaxing in mere seconds. The energy they created as an artist had his constantly running mind calming itself at once and he was loving it as he watched them play. Suddenly, three songs had passed and then the whole show, Katsuki still in the aftermath of his blissful mind. “You alright there man?” Denki asks, ruining it for the spiky haired blond. He chooses to ignore what the other man had said though, instead turning to look at Mina. “When the fuck do they perform again?” He demands the answer, earning a surprised look from the pink woman and the redhead beside her. “Uh, every Thursday.” She replied, still slightly shocked by the blonde’s question as he turned to go pay his tab at the bar.

“I’ll see you guys later.” He grunts out.

Katsuki didn’t have the mind of patience to start up a conversation with the Folk singer just yet, he also feared that he wouldn’t know what to say. So, the blond paid for his drinks he got and began to head back home, his mind churning with thoughts on how he’d start a conversation up with the singer when he returned.

#bakugou katsuki #katsukibakugou #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugo fluff #mha #bakusquad #pro hero bakugou #mha fluff #reader insert #gn y/n #mina ashido #denki kaminari #sero hanta #kirishima eijirou

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queenshelby · 3 years ago

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A New Life

Part Ten: The Hunt

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 3,154

Warning: Smut

After about twenty minutes and you finally managed to get dressed, the doorbell rang and Cillian’s sister arrived to look after the children.

Cillian’s sister was in her early thirties and currently pregnant with her second child. She had kindly offered to look after Max and Cian’s children and, after you had met her already a few weeks ago, you thought that this was a good idea since Max wouldn’t be able to walk the whole 12 km you had planned.

Max was excited to see her and Cillian’s young nephew who, recently, had turned four was going to spend the day with him and the other children.

‘Good to see you again Y/N’ she said, greeting you with a hug and you recalled the last time you had met her at Cillian’s house when him and Cian were making dinner. It was obvious to you that she liked you and, even more so, it was obvious to her that you liked her brother and that this feeling was mutual.

‘Good to see you. How was the drive?’ you asked, knowing that she was travelling from Cork, which is where she lived.

‘Pretty good actually. I went to see mum and dad last night for dinner and stayed there’ she pointed out, looking at Cillian as she did. It was obvious to you that she was teasing him, but you didn’t know what about.

‘I got the message, thanks’ Cillian chuckled and, just as he did, his sister pulled him aside.

***

‘You know what I am about to say’ she said to Cillian in private so that no one else could hear them.

She had been trying to get Cillian to ask you out for two weeks now, but he outright refused.

‘And I told you that I am not interested in dating. Despite, she’s twenty years younger than me’ Cillian pointed out again after having made the age gap between you and him quite an issue.

Of course, his sister didn’t know that you were, in fact, sleeping with each other but, this didn’t change the fact that neither of you were wanting to be romantically involved with anyone right now.

What his sister did, however, know was how you both looked at each and how much Cillian enjoyed your and Max’s company. Unbeknownst to you, she had flagged with Cillian several times before and simply wanted him to be happy.

‘Think about it Cillian, she’s young which means that she probably still wants children. Despite, you wouldn’t be the first actor who dates a younger woman. Apparently, it is quite common’ his sister said, grinning cheekily.

‘You need to stop it’ Cillian chuckled. ‘Did Ma put you up to this?’ he then asked somewhat amused after she begged him during his last visit to Cork to find someone, settle down and give her some more grandchildren.

‘Maybe’ his sister grinned in response before carrying on. ‘She said that, perhaps, you just need a little a bit of help’ she then said, causing Cillian to chuckle again before sighing in disbelieve.

‘Ma thinks I need a little bit of help with finding a woman, eh?’ he asked somewhat amused and his sister nodded with a wide smile.

‘Yes, and I have something in mind to help you along’ she went on to say before dragging Cillian back into the kitchen.

Cillian’s sister was into boardgames and a little nerdy, just like her brother. She had recently started a business and was organising parties and fun activities for children and adults. This, amongst other things, included murder mystery parties and escape rooms and she he had a little surprise prepared for your hike as well with the help from your brother Cian who was about to bail on the adventure.

***

‘Listen up folks! I am trialling out a new little business idea and you will be my test objects. I am sending you all on a scavenger hunt’ she announced with excitement, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow.

‘Seriously?’ he asked, unimpressed. He was tired enough as it was and didn’t want to spend the entire day looking for cues.

‘I suppose we better form teams then’ Laura said, looking over towards Cillian who was still preoccupied with his second cup of coffee and didn’t notice.

‘I have already set up three teams and each team will get an envelope with separate sets of instructions. At the end, you will all meet at the same place but you will get there via different ways. The first team to arrive will win’ she explained before handing out the envelopes.

‘Well Y/N, it looks like you are stuck with me for the day’ Cillian said as his sister handed him a green coloured envelope with both of your names on it and you couldn’t help but get a little excited about it all.

You would be spending the next five or six hours with Cillian and you were rather happy about that.

Laura, on the other hand, was disappointed that she was paired up with Evelyn while the other couple at the house was paired up with each other.

***

After addressing a few housekeeping matters and putting on your hiking shoes, each team made their way to the nearby reserve which is where you all had to split up.

Cillian and you were headed south and, after a twenty-minute journey, you questioned Cillian’s navigation skills.

‘Are you sure this is the right way?’ you asked, curious as to whether Cillian knew where he was going.

‘Yes, I am sure. Trust me, alright?’ he confirmed and you nodded and agreed to simply follow his lead. You were way too tired to argue with him and, ten minutes later, were glad that you didn’t as, sure enough, you arrived at the trail referenced inside the envelope you were given.

As you arrived at the trail, the crisp air was blissfully quiet and the area almost seemed deserted. You were surprised that it didn’t attract more tourists but Cillian told you that it was simply too early in the day.

The peace and quiet could almost be felt even as the cool morning breeze wafted through the trees and gently stirred the still morning air.

‘I am fairly sure I know where the first cue is’ Cillian then said as you began walking down the trail still rugged up in long pants and jackets and, when you were sure that really no one was around, you took hold of his hand.

You weren’t sure whether you should have done that or whether it was inappropriate since you weren’t dating, but Cillian quickly confirmed with a kiss that it was alright.

‘I actually like the fact that it is just us for the day walking through these woods’ Cillian then chuckled after your lips drifted apart and he didn’t really appear pressed for time.

‘And why is that?’ you asked cheekily and with a big grin on your face.

‘So, I can keep doing this’ he responded before kissing you again, this time more passionately.

By this point, you were less than an hour into your journey and already lost some time simply by stopping and kissing each other but a kiss wasn’t all you wanted.

‘Is kissing all you want to do while we have this time alone together in the woods?’ you asked while suggestively biting your lip and Cillian couldn’t help but laugh.

‘I suppose I am not very competitive and don’t care if we win or lose so, if we find a quiet and secluded area then, by all means, we can do whatever you want’ Cillian said with a wink and you eagerly nodded before pulling him close again.

‘Hmm how cheeky Mr Murphy’ you giggled and, sure enough, about twenty minutes later, you arrived at a rather secluded area which is also where the next cue was hidden.

You bent down to pick up the cue and you could immediately feel Cillian’s eyes on your ass when you did.

By this point, you had removed your jacked and stuffed it into your backpack which caused more of your beautiful skin to be exposed.

‘Are you staring at my ass?’ you asked cheekily before reminding Cillian that he was meant to read the next part of the instructions inside of the envelope.

‘Of course not’ he chuckled in response as he was still trying to catch his breath after having walked uphill for quite some time.

‘Out of breath, are we old man?’ you then teased but Cillian wasn’t amused.

‘Call me that again and you are in trouble’ he said before telling you that he was a little out of shape after having missed last weeks’ PT sessions and, just as he did, you pulled him close for a passionate and long kiss.

With a mischievous look, you leaned into him, took the envelope out of his hand and ran your hand over Cillian’s crotch.

‘It looks like this guy isn't out of shape. To the contrary, he seems to be perfectly healthy’ you smirked before pushing Cillian against the large tree in front of which he was standing.

‘He is very eager and active, that’s for sure’ Cillian laughed just before you began to unbutton and unzip his pants in order to free his hard member.

‘Jesus Y/N’ he then groaned as you began to stroke him gently while keeping an eye out to ensure that no one was watching you.

But your sense for your surroundings soon vanished when Cillian pulled you even closer for yet another passionate kiss.

As the kissing furiously escalated you became soaking wet and needed to feel Cillian’s cock inside you. Breaking contact, you quickly turned around and suggestively leaned forward against one of the large rock formations.

There were no words needed and Cillian quickly grabbed hold of your tights and pushed them down your legs along with your panties.

‘So fucking wet again’ Cillian observed with a husky voice as his fingers brushed against your wet folds, collecting some of your juices and spreading them before he lined himself up with your entrance from behind.

‘Well, I am always aching for you, you should know that by now’ you said, wiggling your ass to encourage him to slide inside you.

Then, all of a sudden, you let out a loud cry as, with one swift thrust, Cillian’s cock smoothly penetrated you and entered your waiting pussy.

‘Shh’ Cillian reminded you as each slow and agonising thrust elicited protests from you to speed up but he ignored them with a smirk and proceeded at a painfully slow pace, making sure your body and pussy felt each deep impact.

Coated by your slick juices, drops of your sweet nectar began to drip from Cillian’s cock with every thrust and you could hear him groan behind you, watching his cock impale on your pussy.

‘You are so fucking sexy in those hiking clothes’ Cillian observed and, hearing your soft but growing moans in response, caused him to increase the force and speed of his thrusts.

‘Oh god Cillian, fuck’ you moaned and, eventually, he leaned forward and gave your ears a playful nibble before taking your hands into his so that your entire body weight was balanced solely by his hands and cock.

As he began to speed up and thrusted into you earnestly with the full length of his cock your assets began shuddering from the forceful pounding.

You loved hearing Cillian’s soft growls and he loved hearing your heated moans as you were fucking like animals in heat and your rough but yet passionate love making had been quickly building up to a climax.

‘Oh god Cillian, cum inside me. I want to feel it, all of it’ you moaned as you became louder and more desperate.

‘Not yet’ Cillian said determined as your lustful moans echoed throughout the forest and no doubt spooked some animals. Instead of continuing his assault on your pussy, he pulled his dripping and erect cock out of your warm wetness, leaving you once again to pout and beg in desperation.

‘Please no…Cillian…fuck…’ you huffed out as you turned around to look at him in confusion.

Your plead for more was met with a grin and then a kiss which was passionate but not as heated as the last.

‘Common, let’s keep going and find another cue first’ he said, pulling up his pants and covering his erection as best as he could after your lips drifted apart.

‘Cillian, I am fucking soaking. I need to cum’ you said, disapproving of his teasing, but he enjoyed it way too much. It was his game.

***

An hour and two cues later, you found yet another perfect love making spot deep inside the forest.

‘This perfect, there is no one around and the area is covered with bushes’ you observed just before your lips met with his, demanding him to take you and make you cum without saying anything else.

Cillian nodded and, without words, you both somehow stumbled over to a flat rock not too far from the marker indicating the direction of the trail.

Covered by dense vegetation, this large, smooth rock seemed perfectly suited as a bench for groups of people. For the two of you, though, it was just the perfect place for other activities...

As you sat down on the rock Cillian bent down and proceeded to give you what you deserved.

‘These will need to come off’ Cillian said, kneeling before you and tugging on your tights.

You quickly undid your hiking shoes and then pushed them off before allowing Cillian to remove yourtights and panties.

‘Let’s hope no one comes down this way, eh?’ he then smirked but you no longer cared and pulled him close, desperate to feel him inside of you once again.

Spreading your legs apart, he leaned above you and took you in fully with his eyes. Your smiling and blushing face, cheeks and pussy reddened with arousal turned Cillian on immensely. Your hard nipples poking through your exercise top, heaving with each breath were a sight he knew he would remember forever. And your shy but warm hands, gripped Cillian’s hand with great trust as your shining eyes encouraged him to take you right then and there.

Cillian unbuttoned and unzipped his pants again, pushing them down together with his briefs before aligning himself with your entrance.

Without hesitation, he took a deep breath and plunged straight into your tight wetness as a whimper escaped your quivering lips. Cillian was pushing in firmly and pulling out in an agonisingly slow manner. This only increased the pleasure and soon your bodies were moving in tandem like a well-oiled fucking machine as grunts and moans filled the air.

Cillian was joyfully fucking you as his cock pounded against your pussy and relentlessly assaulted it as your dueling tongues enticed each other to hotter and deeper kisses.

His thrusts soon fastened but, just as you were about to approach a hastening climax, he slowed down again. Although fucking you senseless was what his body yearned to do as he saw your heaving body under him shining with sweat, his reserves of self-control still held.

Pushing in deeply so that you could feel his warm cock filling you up, he remained in you for a short while before pulling out completely.

As you gazed at him with pleading eyes, he smirked, then leaned in to kiss you before slamming his cock unexpectedly into your waiting pussy starving for more.

Again and again, he followed this process of pushing deep into you, holding it there so you could feel such fullness, before pulling out completely and leaving you yearning crazily for the next thrust.

Taking you to new heights of pleasure with each deep impact, he began to speed up unconsciously as your moans and hot pussy walls rapidly eroded his self-control.

All too soon, he felt the climax approaching inevitably. Even as your bodies were lost in pleasure, however, your ears picked up the murmur of early hikers at the summit not too far from where you were. And yet, Cillian’s cock began to pound you harder and faster with increasing urgency and desperation.

‘Don’t you dare fucking stop now’ you moaned quietly and Cillian certainly couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he forcefully pushed down as his hips returned from their swing and thrusted firmly upwards into you. Impaled on his thick and painfully erect shaft, your pussy lips widened, as did your eyes.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned as your climax was approaching fast and hard and you began to quiver.

With a groan, Cillian reached his high at the same time as you. His cock was exploding deep inside you, filling your waiting pussy with sticky ropes of hot cum. Even as your pussy walls convulsed with pleasure, they were quickly painted white with his swirling cum while trying their best to milk him dry of every drop.

Wrapped in a deep kiss to muffle your moans of pleasure, you could hear the nearby crowd approaching and, at the sound of the cracking of some sticks, Cillian quickly pulled out of you and helped you up from where you were lying.

Seeing your sore and well-used pussy dripping your juices and his thick cum made Cillian inhale sharply before he pulled up his pants.

You were quick to get dressed yourself before anyone would see you and, sure enough, minutes later, the small group pf hikers found your little hiding spot and greeted you.

***

After another few hours following your small detour deeper into the woods in order to get some intimacy, you finally found the last cue which led you to a small local pub.

You weren’t surprised when you learned that you were, indeed, the last team to arrive at your destination.

‘Did you guys get lost or something?’ Cian asked when you both finally sat down at the table and ordered two pints of Guinness.

‘We just took our time. Those cues were tricky’ Cillian chuckled which is when Evelyn informed you that you arrived an entire hour after she did.

‘I had to stop and take some sightseeing photos as well’ you then told her, cheeks blushing red while you were already thinking about how you would be sneaking into Cillian’s bedroom that night.

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15 @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r @tellingyouastory @captivatedbycillianmurphy @namelesslosers @littlewhiterose @ttzamara @ttzamara @cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon @ysmmsy

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

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𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜: 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚂𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚠𝚊

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, encouraging, justifying, promoting nor romanticizing yandere behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: Mentions of toxic relationships, violence, degradation, physical/mental abuse, kidnapping, hostage holding, self-harm, attempted murder and other yandere behavior. Read at your own discretion.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚��𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚂𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚠𝚊

𝙳.𝙾.𝙱: 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝟹𝚛𝚍, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟾

𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟷𝟽𝟾 𝙲𝙼/ 𝟻'𝟷𝟶 𝙵𝚃.

𝙰𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■■100%

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■■100%

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: ■■■■□90%

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: 𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙳𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜:

𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢.

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝.

𝙽𝚘 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚛��𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜.

𝙱𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He was the school's and the town's heartthrob.

From the time he was young, every girl was in love with him and every boy wanted to be him.

From the tenderest of age, old folks were praising how cute and adorable he was.

That's just how Park Seonghwa grew up, being admired and loved by everyone around him. He was so used to his little club of adoring fans.

He dated, or more like, messed around with more than a couple of girls in his classes.

Not a single one of them was immune to his charms, even if at first they said they'd never ever fall for him. They always fell like dominoes.

And then the day finally came....The day someone ignored him, the day someone didn't worship the ground he walked on.....

The day someone not only refused but humiliated him in front of others.

You had recently moved into the small town, wanting to get away from all the bustling and, in your opinion, futile life of the city.

So you moved somewhere more quiet, serene, calm.

You only wanted a nice and comfortable life, and with the small but sturdy job you accepted, it allowed you to have a comfortable living.

For a while, no one really noticed or payed the to you, and those that did were wary of you.

You couldn't blame them. A stranger suddenly moves into their town? Of course they'd be careful.

You were very observant and in that time you observed Seonghwa.

He was good looking you had to admit, but he had come into the shop with a girl by his side which suggested to you they were an item.

Meaning he was off limits so you didn't bother to think about him.

But then he came in weeks later with a different girl, which threw you off a little.

And then a different girl, then another and you saw the pattern.

You shook your head and cringed at him. "Fuck boi." You muttered every time you saw him.

It didn't take long for him to hear about the new girl in town.

Which to him meant another heart to steal and a pair of legs to open and add to his collection.

He was with his friends, who were anxious to see what would happen.

You saw him confidently stride up to you, cocky grin on his face as his eyes looked you up and down. You internally scoffed.

"Don't think you can easily play me boy." You resolved in your head to wipe that smirk off.

"Hey gorgeous. Come here often?" He winked at you.

"I work here." You responded with absolutely no emotion or expression, barely giving him a glance as you arranged the shelves in the store.

He moved so you could see him better, thinking it would cause you to melt, but you just stared straight at him as if he wasn't there.

"If you need any assistance, please ask one of the managers. I only stock the merchandise."

You had to hold back from laughing at his shocked face, probably because no girl had ever not blushed or become flustered from his close proximity.

You moved away from him to put some articles on the next aisle.

Not giving up, Seonghwa followed after you, his friends trailing close behind you.

He tapped your shoulder to get your attention again.

For the first time in his life, a girl glared at him as if he was no more than a bug....

That was strike one for him.

"Listen...... I.......just wanted to get your number?" He couldn't believe that he was actually sweating nervously.

"Sorry. I don't give my number to strangers." You stated.

Seeing an opportunity, Seonghwa smiled flirtatiously at you.

"Well then maybe I should take you out. Then we won't be strangers. Maybe we could even get...really close." He licked his lips.

His face froze when he saw you roll your eyes at him.

That was strike two.

"Thank you but no. And if you'll excuse me."

You moved to leave him there again, but his hand reached out and gripped your wrist, a little too rough for your liking.

"Come on darling...no one's ever said no to me."

Yanking your hand away, you looked at him with disgust as you told him:

"I believe I just did."

Those words and the snorts and giggles from his friends behind him were strike three for him.

In that moment something snapped in him.

How dare someone like you reject him? The Park Seonghwa.

He was so stunned by your actions that he couldn't get you out of his mind from then on.

He no longer looked at any other girls.

His thoughts were fixated on you and only you.

He had to win you over, he just had to.

You were the ultimate challenge and he was going to make sure he was victorious.

But you made it so damn difficult.

Every. Single. Time.

You never hid how much he annoyed you and that pissed him off so much.

Days turned to a month, then 3 and still you kept refusing him.

The final straw for him was when he tried gifting you a rather expensive necklace that would have anyone else swooning.

Not batting a wink, you threw the case back to him.

"I'm not some whore you can buy for the night just cause you feel like it. Go find someone else to be your toy, fuckboi."

He gripped the case so harshly it actually bent, eyes staring daggers at you as you walked home.

"You're not getting away so easily. You're going to regret this."

You were surprised when you didn't see Seonghwa the next day..

Or for an entire week.

But you shrugged it off, perhaps he had finally learned his lesson and opted for leaving you alone.

Walking home, you couldn't help but feel like something eerie was going to happen.

You tried ignoring it by plugging in your headphones and just head home as soon as possible. It was dark and cold.

You weren't paying attention to your surroundings so you didn't see nor hear the car that was heading straight to you.

You only felt something knock you to the ground, immediately passing out from your head hitting the pavement.

The driver got out of the vehicle, his dark orbs staring down at your unconscious figure.

Bending down, he tilted your chin to look at your bloody face.

"I told you would regret this."

You woke up sore and with a pounding headache days later.

But more than anything, you woke up frightened when you saw you were chained down on a chair, wrists bound on the arm rests and feet tied to the legs.

Who the hell would kidnap you?

Your answer came in the form of Seonghwa himself, coming into the dimly lit basement where he held you.

He smirked as he saw you swallow harshly when he came close to you, face bending down at eye level to you.

"You can get out of this whole mess you know...."

Cupping your chin, he brought his lips dangerously close to yours.

"Just give in to me and agree to be mine."

You swore this had to be a joke. He'd go through all this trouble just for this shit?

Unable to stand his close proximity, you opted for showing your contempt for him by spitting on his face........something he did not take kindly to.

He looked at you as if you committed a heinous crime. And he wasn't going to let you get away with it.

Lifting your face up, he slapped you several times across the face, not satisfied until your nose was bleeding and your cheeks were stinging so badly, there was going to be bruising for sure.

You cried out when he harshly gripped your burning cheeks, adding even more pain.

"Sooner or later, you'll have to give in. The more you resist, the worse it'll get."

He left you there for 3 days, or a week. You honestly couldn't remember, you were going in and out of consciousness for a while.

When he finally let you out, you thought he'd be a little more nicer to you, but you were wrong.

Things only got worse.

You were being treated worse than an animal.

You couldn't walk anywhere, you had to crawl. You weren't allowed to use utensils for food, nor your hands.

The first time you tried to refuse to these rules, Seonghwa shoved you to the floor and dragged you by the hair across the hallway.

And as for food, he smashed your face into the bowl, you were surprised it didn't break from how hard he did it.

You could never look him in the eye or else you'd get struck across the cheek.

"Never look your betters in the eye. You should be grateful I even spare a glance at such a lowlife like you."

He lived, no...he thrived out of humiliating you.

It was sickening to know that such an individual could hate someone so much to go out of their way to try and dominate them to such an extent.

The times he was actually being 'nice' to you, his voice was filled with mock pity, talking to you as if you were his little pet.

It was those times where you truly couldn't hold back and glared at him.

And it always end with you back in the basement, stripped naked, and left there for days in the cold, body bleeding and sore from the canning he gave you.

And everytime he came back, he'd always say the same thing:

"You could end all of this if only you'd love me."

More than once you thought about giving in, even if just pretending.

He couldn't possibly treat you any worse than he did now.

But your inner strength, independence and repulsion from him kept you from giving in.

You'd rather die than ever let Park Seonghwa win and give him that. satisfaction.

But the day you found out you were pregnant with his kid, you knew you had to get out of there.

You were not going to allow a child to be raised by a monster.

You never told him anything, he couldn't know. You even resorted to cutting yourself so he'd believe you were still menstruating.

And for months you played it nice, obeyed him so he wouldn't cause you harm or to the baby.

He actually began to soften up, thinking he had finally broken you into the perfect lover he imagined.

"Fucking idiot."

That was the exact thing you thought when you finally allowed him to kiss you, instead of the forced ones he'd usually give you.

Taking advantage that his guard was down, you pulled out the knife you had hidden and didn't hesitate to plunge it on his side.

He pulled back in shock, but had no time to react because you just took out the knife and plunged it back in...

Over and over again until he layed unconscious on the floor.

Blood was everywhere and you honestly couldn't believe you did that.

Choking back the tears, you scrambled to find anything that could help you break the lock, which you eventually found.

You ran out of that place, never looking back.

You didn't run into the direction of the town, people would be too suspicious.

You ran towards the direction of the highway, hoping someone would find you and take you to the nearest hospital or police station.

It seemed luck was on your side as a woman immediately stopped when she saw you running.

She didn't hesitate to help you out, taking you to a hospital so you could get checked up.

You lied and simply said you had been kidnapped and managed to escape, feigning that you don't remember who your kidnapper was.

The police bought your story and more so dropped the interrogation when you said you didn't want to press charges and just wanted to lay low for a while.

You moved all the way across the country, far far away from the place of hell you were in.

You quickly got a job and a small, but comfortable home to raise your newborn daughter in.

She was such a cute and beautiful baby, looking like an exact replica of her father which somewhat haunted you but you pushed those thoughts aside.

Time had passed, you were safe, she was safe and almost a year old, and you'd never have to worry about that insane man ever again.........

So you believed.

Unaware of the piercing eyes that were looking through your opened window, staring at you as you fed yours and his baby.

"You'll love me in the end....."

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savingthrcw · 6 months ago

Text

Kindly folks. A little flash of disgust on Janey's face, because she had been accused of that before, and sure, in this case it was somewhat sarcastic, he didn't believe they'd do it out of kindness, but enough people had eventually come to think that she had such inclination and it was distressing. The last thing she needed was people expecting her to be a decent person instead of just having little human lapses.

"I'm sure it had nothin' to do with y'all having a sudden pressin' need for a newtracker. I'll give you this much though, sweetheart, you at least know how to pretend to ask nicely."

"Please. Look at me, cowboy," she opened her arms then dropped, with just about the same enthusiasm she put into her words, "I'm an old raider." Well, old was a big word for someone who hadn't touched 35 yet. But in raider's years? "I'm still here because I plan and I prepare. Then I overprepare. You'd be when the 'over' bit starts. Which is what lets me be so 'nice' about it." No need for begging or threatening, just two grown folks discussing business. In the years she had found some got disoriented by that, but others jumped in. Especially other raiders who had never stopped for a second to attempt thinking. Right, the job. "Here's the deal. Apparently a scientist stole from the Enclave and ran with his dog." Just this time, just for a moment, there was a twitch on her lips that resembled a smile instead of her permanent deadpan expression, at the thought of someone actually fucking with the Enclave from inside. And leaving with a dog, at that. "The Enclave got its panties in a twist, and offered a thousand caps to bring him back. But we both know they ain't gonna give that to ya. 'Cause you are a ghoul, and people are stupid about that. They'll want someone in a shiny armor to do it. Who'll really pay a lot is a friend of mine, if I bring the scientist to them. If you are with me, it's a job worth 500 caps for you alone. You are free to go and check if anyone is offering more. But..." She took a few steps to the side to look at him better, or more specifically which sort of weapon he had. "If it's true that you are as good as they say, I'll throw in an extra 200. Not because I'm kind-hearted," she hadn't let go of that one yet, "But because that's what I call an investment. Paying skilled people the right amount instead of fucking them up... usually means they'll come back to work with me later. So take this as an incentive not to shoot me in the back whether you wanna do it or not, I'm worth more caps alive, 'cause they can keep coming and you never know when you may need a job." She had to offer beforehand that sort of incentive, because that was what had kickstarted several, surprisingly civilized, joined efforts with people who normally would have literally tried to eat her after the job. Even raiders could cooperate sometimes, with the idea that they'd get their pockets full again in the future. Some got stupid later anyway, and got disposed of. She agreed with that logic: she wouldn't make deals with Dom Pedro, for one, but she wouldn't rush to kill a stranger who may keep their word on it, there was always time for that later, if they were lying. Then, of course, there were those trying to make her deal in slavery, and whether they acted civilized or not they got shot in the face. She did have standards. "Pitch over. I won't lie, the fact that Dom Pedro will shit his pants knowing you're out and about? Makes me feel aaaall warm and fuzzy. It's good reason to try you first." She wished she could see his dickface when he found out, but she'd have to just imagine it.

Cooper's eyes snapped open; in the suffocating darkness of the coffin, of course, there was nothing to see, but he stared hard up at the source of the sound nonetheless. It was quiet, muffled, but unmistakable.

Someone was digging.

How long had it been? It felt like he'd been down here in this cramped iron prison for a fucking eternity, like a broken doll stuffed back into its box and forgotten about. Was Dom Pedro back for another round?

This was his chance. All he needed was a few seconds, a clean shot for his rope. He didn't know what was waiting for him aboveground, but it was a safe bet that he'd be fighting for his life once that coffin door opened, and the rush of anger-infused adrenaline almost drowned out the pain from his twisted limbs, the horrible burn in his chest from each rattling wheeze for air that just never quite seemed to fill his lungs.

Come on, come on, oh god please hurry up and get me the fuck out of here -

THUNK.

They'd hit the coffin. Shit, this was really happening. This was it. Freedom.

Fresh fucking air.

Cooper felt his face twist into a desperate snarl as he tried to weakly wriggle his busted arm below his head towards his rope. It was no good, of course. Fuck it. He'd just have to come out as he was, and hope his regenerative abilities kicked in once he was less of a pretzel. Hope that Dom Pedro was in a chatty mood and not a prisoner-maiming one.

After what felt like a frustratingly long time, the scraping and dull thunking sounds finally stopped. He felt the coffin get hoisted up, up, up into the air, and then it was being slowly rotated to stand him upright.

Cooper closed his eyes, shoved the fear down, and smiled.

One way or another, he was gonna walk free today, and whoever just dug him up was going to regret it.

There was a heavy rattling of chains; at last, the coffin door swung open, leaving him coughing and gasping for breath like a swimmer who'd just spent too long underwater. It took some effort to pull himself free from the cold dark prison where his mangled body had been so ungraciously stuffed, but he managed to lurch his way out and double over, groaning as his body rearranged itself with a series of sickening cracks. Shit, that always hurt like a son of a bitch.

And of course, there was an audience pointing guns at him while he caught his breath and got reacquainted with existence outside of his coffin. Wonderful.

"Guns down, he's fine."

...By fine, he supposed the woman meant not a slavering feral.

Well, at least he now knew which of these strangers was the one giving orders.

Like a group of mongooses flinching back from a snake in a hole, the men who'd just opened his coffin hastily lowered their weapons and retreated, never once taking their eyes off him.

Guess it was showtime, then.

Slowly, with the unhurried self-assurance of a yao guai finally choosing to emerge from hibernation, The Ghoul straightened up to his full height. One boot stepped away from the open grave and onto the grass, followed by the other. A gnarled hand flexed, as narrowed sunken blue eyes swept the graveyard. Counting the heads, calculating the trajectories, appraising the threats.

...Just three, huh?

He could take three. No problem.

"Hey. I'm not with Dom Pedro."

At the woman's words, The Ghoul slowly tilted his head to one side, silent and evaluating.

Oh, you talkin' to little old me now?

Yeah, no shit she wasn't one of Dom Pedro's.

Pedro would've known better than to dig him up without at least triple the men to point guns at him.

"I'm gonna get straight to the point. I'm getting you out of there for two reasons: one, I hate that fucker and I want him to suffer. Two, coffins are for the dead."

Taking the good-cop approach right out of the gate, huh? Well, that sure was a choice. Not the default one, though, going by the minigun over her shoulder and the big pistol holstered on her hip.

...Was she trying to imply she could put him back to rest in that coffin in the proper way, if he wasn't feeling grateful enough for the unsolicited rescue?

The Ghoul's head took a tilt to the other side; a swaying cobra, sizing up his target, contemplating whether or not to strike.

His realigned joints ached something fucking fierce. The throbbing in his temples, the gnawing emptiness in his stomach and the dry burn in his throat was almost maddening. All he wanted was a long drink, a massive Brahmin steak and a comfy surface to pass out on after he took a shitload of chems.

He'd settle for just shooting some heads open and taking whatever shit these idiots had in their pockets, though. Whatever they'd come here looking for, they weren't gonna be getting it from him. He was in no mood to go from one man's kennel to this woman's leash.

"That said, I've been told you are the best tracker we can find on this side of the Wasteland, so if you are interested I've got a job worth a lot of caps."

The Ghoul's lips started to curl into a knowing little scoff. Yep, there it was. The only surprise was that she was bothering to frame it like an offer and not an order.

Maybe she just knew she didn't have the firepower right now to play the bad-cop angle. That minigun would take a good few seconds to spin up, after all, and he was pretty confident he was a faster draw than her.

"If you are not interested, good-fucking-bye, good luck and I hope you kill that son of a bitch."

There was a flicker of something across The Ghoul's marred face; a blend of faintly perplexed surprise, amusement, and appraisal. The expression disappeared almost as swiftly as it appeared, like a stone sinking into the deep.

"...Well, now, ain't that a pretty little pitch."

The Ghoul's voice was a low rasping drawl edged with a lightly sardonic nonchalance, that belied the flatly evaluating way he was looking at the head honcho stranger now. Not a fan of Dom Pedro's, huh? Was she hoping he'd go kill the bastard for her? Well, he was admittedly feeling pretty murderously inclined towards the man right now.

But it sounded like there was more to it than that.

"Y'all must be some real kindly folks, diggin' up an old wrinkly like me just to right another man's wrong."

Slow, prowling steps forwards and angling to the side. If things went south, he sure as fuck wouldn't be the one ending up in that coffin.

" I'm sure it had nothin' to do with y'all having a sudden pressin' need for a new tracker. I'll give you this much though, sweetheart," he tacked on casually, as he shifted step by innocuous step into a more tactical position, "You at least know how to pretend to ask nicely."

He didn't know these people, they sure seemed to know about him. No one went to all the effort of traipsing onto Dom Pedro's turf and digging up the biggest baddest motherfucker they could think of unless they were desperate for a win. By the men's caginess and their minigun-toting leader's calm reasonable act, they weren't exactly used to pitching job offers to someone like him either.

"Can't exactly say if I'm interested in this lucrative job o' yours or not if I ain't got a clue what the job is, though, can I?"

If it sounded solid, there was no reason he couldn't just kill them and go after the bounty himself. Easier than dealing with having to travel with other people, and he wouldn't have to split the payload - or go through the whole inconvenience of them trying to double-cross him and make off with all the caps.

If it sounded like a bust or just plain not worth his time, well, he'd get to test out how serious she was about letting him exercise his right to say no.

@savingthrcw

#x-hollywoodghoul-x #muse: janey #show: fallout #janey thread;#sales pitch #I think the only people she wouldn't try bargaining with are fiends who look hungry lol like 'yeah no you are definitely eating me as soon #as you get hungry I'm not making deals with you'#also obviously Vault Tec and other coorporate-people because like hell. She'd trust raiders more than whatever they can do.

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lilyrachelcassidy · 3 years ago

Text

Birthday Cake

A/N: Suprise folks!!! *me laughing maniacally* The whole scenery for this fic somehow appeared in my head and I just COULDN’T let it slip away, so... My biggest inspo for that was @drawlfoy!! Remember her posting the fic where Draco and Reader work at McDonald’s and are total suckers in their job (arguing with the customers; preparing wrong orders; etc.)? Dee unfortunately, deleted this precious, but it’s stuck to my head ever since (lol lol, it’s the moment where Dee wants to get rid of something, but I kindly remind everyone it existed). Therefore I present to you the next Draco x Reader fic related to our fav fast-food rest. This time, however, they’re not working at the same workplace but... I'm going to stop here cuz I don't want to spoiler :P

**The second thing that triggered me to write this fic is the YouTube video I recently saw with a lady who orders the 'specials' appearing to be out of the menu list of McDonald’s, through the Drive-Through. She asked for a birthday cake, was laughed at a few times, but eventually got what she wanted. Applause for the attitude!!

About the fic (context, my bitches): ofc it’s the modern AU, non-magical world. Draco’s the worst boyfriend ever but always manages to turn things into their righteous place.

Summary: The birthday is upcoming, and Draco is in a rush to think up an idea for a perfect gift. His ingenuity fails, however, and leaves Y/N very unsatisfied with a disaster that has been forged.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: my brain playing a total psycho, language, alcohol, sexual undertones/allusions to sex, Pansy being too much of her self... deal...

Tags: @drawlfoy @eltanin-malfoy

Such an unrestrained desire to strangle somebody you hadn't felt in a long time.

Really.

Today was your birthday, which you had been widely announcing for almost a whole month to people you might have accidentally forgotten about it. Having your boyfriend, Draco, on your mind in particular.

You doubted he would have the guts to omit your big day, though as repeatedly as he had done for a few years back. But something between foresight and the second sense of prevention told you to keep reminding him every day of the upcoming event, with a heap of birthday-themed emojis and uppercases in the messages.

Everything was planned out in your head: him picking you up from your house with the sharp-red cabriolet that he used only for special occasions; him driving the two of you to the fanciest restaurant he could find in town; him bestowing you with a nice-looking, golden necklace or a different piece of jewelry you had been suggestively pointing out in the store's exhibition; him booking up a hotel room for you two to celebrate.

Either way, that was much beyond your expectations, as it turned out. And now you were sitting in the front yard of your house, waiting for him to show up.

'If he was going to at all.' This thought invaded your mind for the last hour, try as might to subdue it. An hour you had been sitting tight, hoping it was only a delay caused by a traffic jam or other irrational explanation he could come up with. But you were deceiving yourself, you eventually presumed -- you had been checking up your phone every one minute, only to see if any message notification popped up on the screen, other than birthday wishes from friends who actually cared for you.

2.02pm: Nothing.

2.03pm: Susan 'Happy birthday bitch!'

2.04pm: Instagram notif. (Someone liked your photo, which you had posted before leaving your room, posing in front of the mirror in the best cocktail dress you could find in the wardrobe.)

2.05pm: Nothing yet again.

2.06pm: Still... Peace and quiet.

"Fuck it...Enough," you muttered under your breath, an annoying disillusionment falling like a heavy mile stone on your chest. Tears suddenly started sprinkling in your eyes at the regret, and you were very reluctant to admit that your friends were right -- Draco Malfoy was an egoistic, negligent, self-absorbed pri--

"Hi." You heard the raspy, panting voice says. "Sorry for the delay."

You blinked slowly, stupidly. You raised your head to assure yourself it was him. That his expression actually corresponded to his words and showed some kind of remorse for standing you up. But no... There he was: standing in front of you, plainly confident and unashamed, with his cocky smirk provoking you to slap him.

Oh, how much you craved to slap him right now. "Where to the fuck have you been?"

"I've tried to pick this up," he explained, simultaneously lifting up the paper bag he'd been carrying in his hand. The big, exclaiming letters 'McDonald's' with the brand's logo were printed on its exterior, and it was fully stuffed with something inside.

Not quite comprehending, you furrowed. You attempted to hide the venom in your voice, but somehow it found its way to leak out. "Couldn't you do that in advance?"

"Nope..." It was his turn to furrow, looking almost shocked with the question. And thanks to all those years of your relationship, you knew it was his piss-poor estimation of time taking over. "It was a last-minute surprise."

"Sounds like it," you commented irritably. "What's that?"

"Your birthday present, sunshine," he drawled happily, ignoring your remark. He sounded positively delighted and satisfied with himself at surprising you with that because he saw a slight crease of shock painting on your forehead. "Here you go."

You took his deposit out of his grasp, still quite unsure. What if his gift would only make a situation worse? Can it get any worse with Draco's total lack of tact? Yes. But it was only one way to find out.

Without even stealing a second glance at him, you ripped off all of the packaging that had been folded around, protecting the contents. You tried to do it carefully and without any impact of emotions revealing the way you felt inside, but your hands were shaking with rage, and you couldn't quite contain yourself. You had been highly aware you shouldn't have expected much from him, but still...

You wondered if the universe was playing against you.

There was a moment of tense silence as you struggled to deal with all the wrappings. Rather unfortunately, you wished you hadn't put so much effort in opening your so-called 'gift' because as you finally did, it only angered you more, seeing as the disappointment laughs at your face. And yes, as a matter of fact, the universe was against you today...

"Are you kidding me?" you asked in disbelief, fury reappearing in your eyes. "A birthday cake?! From McDonald's?" Ugly, little cake with the creepiest smiley face of a clown. It wasn't even fresh, you realized, when you smelled it and felt a musty reek of a freezer, it probably had been kept in. A confusing sense of sadness in your chest couldn't reach any higher at this point.

"Don't you like it?" he asked, detecting the wrath in your eyes. At that, you felt the dumbest urge to laugh and never stop. "I thought it'd be something original."

"Oh, I love it," you said sarcastically, a faint voice of hope telling you it was only a very bad joke was still lingering in your head. But it wasn't a joke.

"It's not just--" He struggled to form a coherent sentence. "I've been asking Blaise and Theo about any ideas. I told them, what you had said to me -- 'you didn't want anything fancy.' So we decided it's... something."

"Of course I didn't tell you I want anything, you dolt!" Your voice raised up almost two octaves, and the pulse sped up so fast it entailed a headache along. A neighbor from the opposite garden who was watering the flowers looked at you, startled, and eyes widened your exasperated tone. You didn’t care. "It's how it works: you don't tell other people you expect them to buy something!"

"But I'm your boyfriend. You shouldn't -- er-- feel uncomfortable to tell..."

"Exactly! As my boyfriend, you should have known!"

"Well... I didn't. If that's what's bothering you, we can...we can..."

"Stop." Listening to him and his pathetic excuses was the last thing you were going to do now. "What – why would you even – " You sputtered out, unable to process or express exactly what you were feeling. There was definitely anger and indignation. Curiosity, for another, as to why Draco would even fall for such foolish and ill-considered idea, and -- to the top of it -- hope it would make a good fit. And possibly, the last and most satisfying part, was the wicked impulse to throw the cake directly into his arrogant face, letting him taste his own medicine he had been serving you for years on each failed birthday.

"You know, for once, you could pay more effort and try doing something nice for me," you told him firmly, deflating to calm down your buzzing nerves.

"I've been tr--"

"Do you realize how much it costs me to pretend to be happy when you forget about me? Last year, I organized a big-ass party for your birthday, inviting over all of your friends and buying the best booze I could find to celebrate it properly," you said harshly and pretentiously, as you intended. "The best part is, you didn't even thank me." You stared at him, wringing your hands and expecting to perceive any trope of shame in his eyes. For the first time, you actually did.

"Listen, about that--" he calmly attempted to cut off your monologue.

"No, you listen..." Did you really want what was upcoming next? Maybe it was about time. "Today, I decided I'm standing up for myself. So, for the last time, get out from my porch."

He bristled, the thunderstruck air hanging around him. "Because of the stupid cake?"

"What?! No! It's just... I feel like you don't give a damn about me anymore." Gulp formed in your throat, and the tears finally left your eyes at the consciousness of what was happening. "I think we both deserve some time."

Your eyes moved to his, and you almost wished you hadn't looked. He was watching you, with pursed lips and a pure mixture of every emotion: anger, sadness, resentment, pretension, dejection. The faintest of his flustered blushes appeared on his cheeks, and you suddenly wished you could hug him. "So you are putting us..." His finger pointed at him and you as if expecting clarification. "...on a break? Is that what it is?"

You were truly torn, to be honest. Becoming single on your birthday was the last wish you had for this day, but you felt a strong sense of adequacy and pride for building up the boundaries of tolerance. Besides, seeing as it was heading nowhere, it was only a matter of time that your relationship came to an end.

Although, it hurt. A lot. "Yes."

You darted your eyes from him, not wanting to study his reaction in case it caused you to meltdown and jump to his embrace, apologizing endlessly for your words. You loved him. But you didn't regret what you had just said.

Something like a dry chuckle of disbelief escaped out of his mouth. "Is that what you really want?"

'No,' your thoughts prompted you instantly before you could even contemplate. 'I want you to say so many things you're never willing to say. But you don't know.'

So instead, you lied: "Yes."

All expressed, you spun around without peeking back and rushed into your room, already knowing there was no more sense in strives to make this day any better; all of it would bring only bad associations. It would be depressing, even more than it already was.

God, was it how the break-up pained? Because if so, you wanted to be deceased. The world spun suddenly, and you sank to your knees, shaking madly and doing your best to find your way back to your bed, located a few mere meters from you. Part of you felt numb, but your head was wide awake and alarming you that something in terms of a disaster had just happened. Because it did. The clutching in your chest was unbearable, and tears were dashing out of your eyes like a living waterfall, which made you bury your face in your hands. Never have you ever wanted to be so drunk before.

And so many questions rung up in your head at once.

Did you make a good decision? What if you are going to miss him, yet knowing you could never call? What about college -- are things about to get awkward?

No answers.

But you knew someone who would be able to reply to them.

With the blurred by tears vision, you struggled but managed to find your phone in the purse, and then clumsily scrolled through and tapped in your list of contacts before holding the phone to your ear.

Please answer, you begged. Please, please…

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Pansy's voice roared from the other side of a line, as always, enthusiastic.

"Pansy." You tried to sound less brokenly than you were, feeling marginally worse at the reminder of your birthday. "Is Daphne around?"

"Ouch, you're a really nasty bitch sometimes, you know. I'm not goin' to point out today, but since you didn't let me end my wishes, I'll note that for the future reference." You were sure she was grinning at the teasing, seeing as much as she liked that. Normally, you wouldn't mind, but... "How--"

"Pansy, please..." you sobbed out, almost desperate to have someone to consult and share emotions with. Daphne -- contrary to Pansy, who could be very judgy sometimes -- was someone you had especially on mind now. "I need to talk to her."

You heard her sigh; the kind of sigh she used to either prove her resignation or concern. But, as much as it surprised you, she suppressed her curiosity and, without a second word, obediently handed the phone over to Daphne. At least, that's what you assumed because you heard a pause and subdued mutters in the background.

"Y/N?" the milder tone spoke up, and you felt suddenly very strange as if submerged in water of relief; relief to hear the familiar voice. That released you from keeping a distant attitude, and yet again, a sadness washed over you, triggering a loud wail to come out of your mouth. "Y/N, is everything alright?"

"No..." you sniveled, unable to collect yourself together. "I-I... We br-brok-e up."

"You and Draco?" Daphne asked, astonishment evident.

You nodded but then remembered she couldn't see you nor read your expression. So instead, you forced your vocal cords to work again. "Mhm..."

"What happened?"

Restoring the story in your brain again, you told her everything, still tearfully but much more coherently this time. You avoided the details, briefly skipping from one utterance to another, as your conversations had gone, and you were very much thankful she didn't press for more information about the prospect of the situation. If it hadn't been her sporadic gasps or loud inhales of breath, you would have almost presumed she wasn't listening. However, she was, and as soon turned out, Pansy was as well.

"That's bananas!" Pansy shouted somewhere from the back as you had ended, and despite your gloom, you giggled quietly at her comment.

"Shush," Daphne tried to silence her, covering up the fact she had put you on the speaker. You didn't mind because you knew Pansy, who would definitely expect Daphne to cite the whole conversation if needed. But knowing Daphne as well, you could bet she flushed more than she would want to at that point. "So it all started because of the cake?"

"And the delay," you added. "But it's not just about that, obviously. It feels like... he completely stopped caring. And I don't want to be stuck in a relationship where everything is about sex and having fun only. Draco wasn't looking for a commitment, which..."

"Sucks,"ended this time Pansy unhesitatingly, who wasn't now screaming from the other part of a room but openly participating in the discussion.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"As for me, I think he might love you more than you know, Y/N." It was Daphne talking again, and she sounded positively convinced about her view as for someone who had hardly exchanged any word with Draco for the past few years. As if reading your thoughts, she continued. "I've observed you a lot. I know he might seem unemotional, but it's you who discovered him. That must require a lot of trust, you know."

You contemplated, and some of the memories and images from your first encounter run across your brain, try as might to suppress it: spotting each other at the party; binging some whisky shots together; flirty teasing; the very masculine scent of cologne; and then... more spicy recollections -- eager lips pressing against each other; against each others' necks; against other parts of the body; stripping off the clothes in the passionate haste...

Receiving a long moment of silence, Daphne took a second chance and asked. "And what's with you? Do you want to end it?"

It felt like standing before the oracle of truth. Therefore, you couldn't deny it in front of yourself. "No."

"So what're you still doing there?" commented Pansy impatiently, and you could imagine her rolling the eyes. "Get out and find him!"

She was right. You will.

XOXOXOXO

"I thought I'd find you here..."

No. Actually, you didn't.

You had tracked Draco's phone with your own one with some help of an app that, as the two of you had established still in the relationship, would be a good idea in case of an emergency. That in itself proved to be more than helpful, believing that your argument may be pinned as something in terms of an emergency, right?

So having access to his location, you had found out he was in the park where he had taken you on the first date, shortly after dinner, to watch the sunset that, as he had described, 'was a typical cliche from every romantic movie.'

But you had fallen for that. So much.

You hadn't been aware the place had actually some meaning for him until now, and that... God, that he had even remembered it. Time showed, however, that it indeed did, to which your heart reacted with a happy jolting. But also with a nasty sting of nostalgia following shortly after.

Yet, that only had encouraged you to make up your mind and go looking for him, which hadn't been such a difficult task per se. He was sitting on the bench, in the shade of a tree, and hiding his a little too delicate skin from the sun rays. As soon as he had heard your voice, his gray eyes flew up to see you standing a few meters away.

"What are you doing here?" was the immediate question that tumbled out of his mouth. He arched his eyebrow, and to your surprise, he didn't even look angry or sad with you. Nothing near the edge; actually, almost something like the amusement was painting on his face.

"Aren't you mad with me?" you asked intrigued, completely forgetting about his question.

He frowned. "Why would I be?" His tone was so mild that you weren't sure if he was referring to the double meaning; but then he smirked playfully and said, "Besides, I knew you were coming."

"Wha-- How?" you asked, eyes dilating a fraction, in shock.

He smirked, pointing at his phone in an explanatory manner. After a moment, you finally figured out what he meant: the app must have registered he had been tracked and that your phone was trying to find his. At this notice, you reacted with a wave of flush, suddenly regretting your previous lie. His smile only widened at your expression. "Wanna sit? It's plenty of room here."

"Mhm..." You nodded, pleased to accept his offer, and walked over to the bench, doing your best to hide the evident embarrassment on your face. You felt strange he had taken you with such ease, seeing as merely two or three hours ago, you had burst at him like a cram-full volcano of unspoken emotions.

Draco shifted a package from his side, making more space for you to sit, and it took you a moment to realize it was a McDonald's cake from earlier. Everything started from that -- a stupid, little piece of cake which stood up between...

You shook the thought away, taking a seat next to him, close enough to smell his sandalwood cologne. "You didn't answer my question," Draco reminded you. "What's so important to make you track my phone?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" You rounded your face to him, flustrated, leaning at the backrest of a bench. "That's why I came. I wanted to apologize."

"Oh... Couldn't you call?"

You sighed. "I figured you wouldn't want to talk to me after...you know... our quarrel," you said half-despondent, half-desperate, watching your feet as if it were the most interesting thing to peer at now. "I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"I know," he said. Out of nowhere, he was gently grasping your palms which forced you to look up directly into his intense gaze. His eyes were swirling like molten silver at you. "But I should be apologizing, love. I made a mistake, okay?" His hands traveled all across to your tense shoulders, squeezing them lightly. "I know I should be more... affectionate with you. And this was...dumb. A dumb mistake. With that cake. But I'll try to be better if you give it another shot."

He looked so serious that you instantly believed him. You wanted to actually, with all force of longing, which grew up too rapidly in you when he wasn't around. Draco was a fool, you could easily say. But he was your fool, which was a thing you couldn't be more proud of.

Peeking slowly in the other direction, you asked, out of the topic, "You remembered the place?"

"Of course," he puffed jokingly, smiling. "Our first date. Officially our place from then on."

"Right..." You smiled back.

Honestly, the mere fact that he had called this spot 'yours' warmed up your heart, and you felt yourself grinning at his never-before-discovered emotionality. To assure yourself you weren't the only one caring, it was all you needed to hear.

The whole moment was intense, and now, you realized, is when you should have hugged him. Kissed him. Said something back at his sincere endearment.

But instead, spotting plastic cutlery next to your 'gift', you asked, "So what's the taste of the birthday cake?"

And you knew he had caught the subtext of your playful inquiry. And you knew that soon you would work things out again. But, as for now...

"I thought you would never ask."

XOXOXOXO

A/N: Looooooool. Such a drama-comedy, right? And I could easily say It feels like 50% Draco-x-Reader / 50% Draco-x-BirthdayCake... But whatever (2am is working like a drunken bud, folks). Happy beginning of August :)

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link4eva · 3 years ago

Text

Kiro’s S2 Growing Troubles Company Project Translation [CN]

Hey! This is a continuation of Kiro’s Season 2 Campus Youth Company project which you can read here!

This translation was done through the power of Google Translate.

This translation contains spoilers for content that has not yet been released to the ENG. If you wish to not be spoiled then please don’t look below the cut.

Enjoy~

*Spoilers below for future content!*

[Stage 1]

Kiro: MC, did you see the notice that Teacher Huang posted in Moments?

MC: What notice?

Kiro: Summer camp, the whole class together…. I really want to go.

MC: I also want to go…. Sketching in the village at the foot of the mountain to escape the summer heat sounds very pleasant.

The director who came to participate in the pre-launch preparations of the film just stepped into the conference room and undoubtedly overheard our conversation.

Director: Do you mean the class that you re-lived high school with before?

MC: Well, Teacher Huang was the headteacher at the time, and we were just discussing their summer camp.

Director: Summer camp? It sounds too student-like.

Director: Anyway, there is still a while before that happens, so go if you want and take advantage of the time off to rest as soon as possible. And….

She thought about it for a moment and then gave us a smile.

Director: If this summer camp experience can be filmed, it will be good promotional material after the movie airs.

I met Kiro’s eyes and have already made a decision.

Kiro: Let me ask Teacher Huang first if we can participate.

Kiro fiddled with his phone, typing and sending messages. I didn’t know how long he was going to be typing for so I leaned in to take a look….

It takes up more than a dozen lines of the text box.

After a while, Teacher Huang sent a voice message.

Teacher Huang: Of course, you’re very welcome to join us. Although you and MC spent only a short amount of time with us, you are still members of the class.

Teacher Huang: I will send you a registration form in a moment, you just have to fill it out and give it to me. The students would be very happy if they heard the news.

Kiro looked at me with a “yeah”, sent a thank-you reply, and when he raised his head again, he had a bright smile on his face.

On the day of departure, Kiro and I arrived at the designated place early to wait for the bus to arrive. *Changed some wording*

The departure time was set at 7 o’clock in the morning, but even still with it being midsummer, the sun was so fierce that people couldn’t open their eyes.

As I looked at the road, I put my hand on my forehead to block the sun. Kiro opened up his suitcase and put his fisherman’s hat on top of my head.

I turned my head and was about to talk to him when a blue and white bus had approached us and was slowing down.

Kiro greeted him as soon as he saw the bus number!

Kiro: 8516, it’s this one!

When the bus stopped, he immediately took my suitcase and walked to the outside of the bus, put both suitcases into the storage, and stepped onto the bus.

Kiro: S-urprise!

The students inside saw us getting on the bus, and at first, there was no reaction, and then burst into applause and cheers-- *Changed some wording*

Classmates: Kiro!

Classmates: Oh my God, are you coming?!

Kiro: Hey, long time no see~ Happy summer everyone~

Kiro: Teacher Huang said that this summer camp is a group activity that the whole class must participate in, and I can’t be absent of course.

Mr. Huang, who was sitting at the front, stood up and dragged Kiro and me onto the bus.

Teacher Huang: Kiro and MC, find a place to sit down and fasten your seatbelts.

Teacher Huang: Okay students, now the whole class is here. I announce the official opening of the 3rd summer camp. *I think it was supposed to be “3rd” but I’m not entirely sure*

[Stage 2]

The itinerary of the summer camp is quite packed.

Occasionally, we would go up the mountain to sketch and take pictures with our classmates. We would also occasionally go to town to shoot some material for the film advertisements.

By the third day, Kiro and I had collected a whole 5G’s worth of vlog material. Kiro was very satisfied with the results of this trip.

Kiro: After the fifteen-day summer camp is over, maybe I can go back to sort out the material and edit. *Changed some wording*

Kiro: By the way, are there any arrangements for the afternoon, or are we going up the mountain with them?

Kiro and I were talking and walking to the door of the homestay. We ran into a few classmates, who we were closer to, sitting in the corner and whispering amongst each other. *Changed some wording*

Kiro glanced at me and leaned forward curiously.

Kiro: What cake? Are you talking about who has a birthday?

Classmate A: Hush! I’m staying in the same room with Shu Shu, and I happened to see her birthday when I checked it, which is today.

Classmate A: And it’s her eighteenth birthday this year, which is very important. We just want to give her a simple celebration.

Classmate B: We just took a look and there isn’t a store that delivers. So, we want to take a taxi into town and order the cake there.

MC: ….But if you leave now, you will definitely be late. Teacher Huang also arranged for the seniors in the village to tell you about folk tales.

Kiro took on this task, almost without thinking.

Kiro: It’s okay, the two of us can go buy cakes.

Kiro: We visited the town a couple of days ago so we’re familiar with the route. Just leave it to us, you can go to class with peace of mind.

I also nodded and quickly agreed.

MC: We can also buy some decorative ribbons and balloons so that it will have a somewhat celebratory atmosphere.

Before they could say anything, we waved to them.

MC: Leave it to us~ Let’s keep in touch and call me if you need anything!

(At the Cake Shop)

Shopkeeper: Our cake bases are all freshly made so you two will have to wait a while.

Shopkeeper: The cake you order is relatively big. In addition to writing “Happy Birthday” on it, you can also write 1-2 blessings.

As the shopkeeper said this, he took out a pen and paper and gave it to us.

Shopkeeper: Write the blessing on the paper and then I’ll take it to the pastry chef.

Kiro: Okay~ Let’s think about it first.

Kiro took the pen and paper and sat down with me in the corner of the cake shop by the window.

Kiro: What would be the best blessing to write to an eighteen-year-old birthday star….

MC: It’s a bit difficult, so let’s change our mindset. What did you want most when you were eighteen?

Kiro put the pen cap on his forehead and thought about it for a while.

Kiro: I didn’t think too much about what I wanted “most”. There were already a lot of things going on at the time, and there was no time to stop and think about it.

Kiro: What about you, what did you want when you were eighteen?

MC: I didn’t really have anything specific either, it’s just that there is a feeling that it’s important to get through each day one by one.

MC: Hope that from this day on, life will change something. I hope that from this day on, nothing will change in my life. *Changed some wording*

Kiro: That’s it.

Kiro looked at the crowd coming and going outside the window. After a while, he took off the pen cap and seemed to have an idea.

[Stage 3]

That night, when they came back from the mountain, Kiro and I had already decorated the living room with balloons and flowers.

The owner of the hotel kindly gave us several large boxes of Coke. The red cans filled the long table and made up the words “Happy Birthday”.

Shu Shu’s eyes were covered by someone from behind as she was led step by step.

When everyone arrived, the student who was covering her eyes, released his hand. She opened her eyes bit by bit and saw the lively surprise in front of her.

She was at a loss for a while as she covered her eyes in surprise and laughed twice, her eyes welled up as if she was holding back tears.

Shu Shu: Haha I knew it!

Shu Shu: Damn, you secretly planned a surprise birthday party…. Originally, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to cause you trouble.

Kiro took out the cake from the refrigerator and put it on the table carefully.

Kiro: The eighteenth birthday is very important, so it should be celebrated!

I drew two tissues from the tissue box on the table and wiped her tears.

MC: The birthday star can’t shed tears today, wipe them quickly and prepare to blow out the candles to make a wish.

When Shu Shu took the tissue, she smiled at me with tears in her eyes and took my hand. *Changed some wording*

Shu Shu: I’m overwhelmed with emotions right now. *Changed some wording*

Shu Shu: I actually didn’t plan to celebrate my eighteenth birthday. Growing up is a very important thing. Am I not ready yet?....

Shu Shu: Say it out, don’t laugh at me. *Changed some wording*

I couldn’t help touching her head and using the remaining tissue in my hand to wipe off the two teardrops on her face.

MC: You don’t have to think so seriously….

I winked at Kiro, and he quickly leaned over, putting on a brilliant smile to comfort Shu Shu.

Kiro: It doesn’t matter, it’s normal to have such thoughts.

Kiro: I have had similar thoughts before. I think it must be very hard to grow up. It is necessary to face all kinds of challenges in this world alone….

Kiro: No longer can I be carefree like a child.

Shu Shu was obviously touched by Kiro’s words. She nodded to Kiro with affirmation in her eyes, waiting for him to continue.

Kiro: But actually, did you know that growing up is more fun than being a child?

The dozen or so pairs of eyes in the living room were all looking at Kiro. It seemed that they were all confused, but they didn’t say the same as Shu Shu.

They all seemed to want to hear the answer to the question from Kiro’s mouth.

Kiro: No matter how carefree life was when I was young, I always lived within the limits of freedom given by adults.

Kiro: Only when we take that step into adulthood, the door to exploring the world is officially opened to us. The most intuitive is the freedom to control time and money.

Kiro: You can book plane tickets at any time for an impromptu trip, and you can lie down on a comfortable bed for a whole day.

Kiro: You can earn money to buy things you like, and fill the refrigerator with your favourite drinks and snacks.

While talking, Kiro and I looked at each other.

Kiro: You can also confess openly to the person you like, and walk openly while holding hands on the street.

I nodded my head, knowingly. Instead, he patted Shu Shu on the shoulder and continued to encourage her with a smile.

Kiro: So don’t worry, if you blow out the eighteenth birthday candle, you won’t become a boring adult in an instant.

Kiro: Look at me, I have liked playing music and games since I was a child. Even now, I still play music and games in the same way.

Kiro: Believe me, you can freely choose your lifestyle and like it too.

[Stage 4]

Seeing the thoughtful expressions of my classmates, I couldn’t help but blend into the atmosphere.

MC: Do you have plans for what you want to do in adulthood?

MC: When I was a child, I always thought that I must go to an idol concert after work and buy tickets for the first row.

There was a burst of laughter from all around, and the students chimed in one by one.

Classmate A: I just want to have the freedom to drink milk tea. My mother said that milk tea is junk food and never allows me to drink it. I want to drink milk tea in my dreams. *This kid’s a big mood lol*

Classmate B: I want to own a cat. My parents don’t like pets, especially my mother, who dislikes cats that shed hair. I said I would clean up after them myself, but she still refuses.

Classmate B: Once I start working, I will move out and adopt a stray cat.

Classmate C: My parents are very supportive of me. They agree on whatever I want, so I want to be independent early on, find a better job, and earn money to be filial to them.

They talked enthusiastically, drawing up a blueprint to be fulfilled in the future.

In the middle of the conversations, the stars in the mountains are all bright, vying to flash the most dazzling light in the Milky Way.

I quietly approached Kiro and sighed softly.

MC: Eighteen is a very beautiful age.

MC: It’s great to have hopes and dreams in my heart.

Kiro smiled at me with his arms folded and his head tilted happily.

Kiro: What are you talking about, MC? Every age is like this, and the age with hopes and dreams is not only eighteen.

I accepted his smile knowingly, opened the cake box with him, and put Shu Shu’s birthday candles on top.

Kiro: Come on, let’s get back to the task at hand. Turn off the lights--

As I lighted the candles, the classmates also stopped talking and sang a happy birthday song in unison.

Classmates: Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you….

MC: Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you~

Kiro: Come and make a wish.

Shu Shu was pushed to the front by everyone, there were tears in her eyes and an uncontrollable smile, her hands were folded to her chest.

Shu Shu: Shall we make a wish together?

This proposal was approved by everyone, Kiro and I were also pushed towards the cake.

The light of the candles flickered in the darkness, reflected in everyone’s eyes, and then slowly, they closed their eyes one after another.

I secretly looked at Kiro, and under the dim light, he opened his eyes and stared seriously at every face present.

Perhaps the subject of “youth” and “growth” has a new meaning in his mind.

After some exploration, it will become his superb performance in the movie.

Kiro: Shu Shu, can you blow the candles?

Kiro asked softly, his eyes fell on a line of blessings on the cake-- Listen to the inner voice and move forward freely.

[Stage 5]

The night before we left the town, Kiro took me to take a walk outside as a final farewell to this summer camp.

Involuntarily, we talked about the confusion of the students about “growth”.

Kiro: In fact, growing up is not terrible, but the journey of facing the unknown is terrifying.

Kiro: When I first made a movie, I was also very nervous. Everyone on the set seemed to be very experienced and skilled. Only I was a novice.

Kiro: I often couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night, and I kept thinking about what to do the next day in my head-- not deliberately, but uncontrollable.

Kiro: Every time that I feel I can’t do it, I just bite the bullet and move forward.

He raised his head, letting the evening breeze in the mountains ruffle his bangs, his eyes looking towards the night were clearer than the blue in the sky.

Kiro: Haha, if you tell the kids this kind of thing, they might feel more scared.

Kiro: But the process is not scary at all.

Kiro: When I look back, I will only find it difficult, but it’s nothing.

He said, turning his head to see the road we have travelled.

Kiro: As it is now, I walked a long way without knowing it.

My heart was filled with the tranquillity of the night, I breathed in the fresh air and stretched out my arms.

MC: And-- There are always beautiful scenes along the road, which makes people forget the tediousness of going forward.

I lowered my eyes and looked at him with a chuckle.

MC: Maybe there will be a very interesting person who can walk with him.

I stopped and stretched out my hand to hold Kiro’s sleeve.

MC: I’ve been thinking these two days, there really isn’t a single moment when we will suddenly change from children to adults….

MC: Like me, I often forget that I am already an adult, and people around me often complain about me, just like a small child.

MC: Maybe it’s because someone has been tolerating me….

MC: No matter what wild ideas I have, he will agree with me, understand me, and support me unconditionally.

MC: Surrounded by this kind of love, I may never be able to become an adult.

Kiro was taken aback and then curled the corners of his mouth, smiling gently at me in the quiet summer night.

Kiro: Who said so? *This line came out kinda wonky so I hope this is right*

Kiro: I have the people who support me the most, understand me the best, and tolerate me in every possible way, making me feel that I can do whatever I want.

Kiro: Often more capricious than children, and often makes me feel lucky.

Kiro: --The world of an adult is wonderful, and the world of a child is very happy.

He stepped forward and I saw the stars, the moon, and the mountains reflected in his eyes as well as myself in between.

Kiro: And I can have two worlds at the same time.

End

#mr love queens choice #mlqc #mr love game #mlqc spoilers #mr love dream date #mldd #mlqc season 2 #S2 Translation #mr love kiro #mlqc kiro #mldd kiro #周棋洛

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spices-and-cherries · 4 years ago

Text

Faster Than a Kitten on Parade (Benoit Blanc x Reader)

Okay, not to toot my own horn, but this is actually kind of good? Like I’m kinda proud of myself... I spent a large amount of time trying to figure out southern accents and their corresponding regions that I kinda gave up and said Mississippi. Louisiana is another safe bet? Anyway, to all Bostonians reading this, I’m sorry. I wrote what I wrote for the sake of plot.

I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!

Warnings: brief description of near car accident and reckless driving

***This is pure fluff with not even a hint of angst***

Every day you take the bus to and from work. While it’s thankfully a straight shot from where you live, Boston’s public transportation leaves much to be desired. The buses rarely run on time, the traffic is miserable, and in the winter it’s living hell. Snowy, cold, wet... It makes you wonder what made you think of moving away from your hometown to this. Was the career move really worth it? Yes.

But that doesn’t mean that your commute lacks any perks. The bus stop you wait at in the morning is right outside a coffee shop, people keep to themselves (unless there’s a game coming up), and it provides you with the time you need to reflect on the day. Most of all, however, is the new guy.

One of the things that comes with riding the same bus everyday is that you tend to ride with the same people as well. So of course your curiosity is piqued when you first saw him. Everything about him seemed so different from the usual folk you see walking around Boston: kind, gentlemanly, smart...

That being said, you have yet to actually meet him...

Normally, that would be completely fine, but you have to admit something’s going on when a fellow commuter has continued to make your day more than several days in a row. Was it his smile? The way he holds himself? That time he gave up his seat for an older lady? Is it just because he’s so clearly not from Boston?

You’ve been trying to build up enough confidence to actually say something - literally anything - but you always chicken out. The first time it was because he was reading a book and you didn’t want to disturb him. The second was because he was standing barely a foot away from your seat and you blanked because that ass. The third and fourth (and admittedly fifth) time ended in a similar fashion.

That is until one glorious and blessed day.

It was snowing hard, but as usual, the city chugged along without a care. So, you had left your apartment with several layers of sweaters and more handwarmers than you could count (That’s a lie. You were carrying ten.). The bus was unusually full and by the time his stop came around, there weren’t a lot of seats left.

Did you forget to breath when you watched him look at the seat next to you?

Were your hands getting sweaty even though that shouldn’t be possible considering the temperature?

Was your heart running faster than a kitten on parade?

Yes, yes, and yes.

“May I take this seat?” His accent somehow prevented you from speaking so you just nodded and smiled. “Thank you kindly.” You shift slightly to give him some space and to try and get rid of sudden spike in adrenaline that his unexpected (and totally welcomed) accent caused...

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, trying really hard to not look weird or creepy. He has on this grey pea coat and a deep maroon colored scarf. His blue suit pants stretch just a tad over what looked to be some muscle. And his aftershave...is amazing to say the least. But all these fine details aren’t what really catch your eye. For what ever reason, this man has no gloves on. His finger tips are turning purple! Hurriedly, you look in your work bag for one of your spare handwarmers. You find it at the bottom, still in it’s packaging.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t have gloves...” You hand it to him. He looks at you with surprise.

“Oh, no...! I couldn’t possibly...” His voice sounds like honey...

“I insist. I buy so many, I won’t miss one.” You push it into his hands.

“That’s mighty kind of you.” He smiles again. It’s very soft. Like marshmallow clouds kind of soft.

“Oh, not at all!” And in that moment, you did something very daring: you introduced yourself. “Um, I’m (Y/N) (L/N), by the way.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mx. (L/N). I’m Benoit Blanc, but please, call me Blanc.” He offers to shake your hand and you take it. You can feel how cold his hands are through your gloves, but it barely even registers. You’re far too busy trying to memorize his name.

Benoit Blanc.

“Is that French?” Oh. My. God. Really?

“Yes.” He chuckled a little. One side of his mouth went up, scrunching that side of his face. It was a hella cute scrunching. “On my father’s side. Immigrated several generations back.”

“I was gonna say that you don’t really look French...”

“I take after my mother.”

“Ah. That explains it.” You smile, genuinely amused. “Sothen, where are you really from then?”

“A small town in Mississippi. You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

“Yeah, probably not.” You nod slightly. “I bet that it’s super different than here.”

“Heh, yeah it is.” Mr. Blanc holds the handwarmer up for a second as emphasis.

“I, uh, I’m from (hometown) - (region) - so I know where you’re coming from. Boston sure is something else, isn’t it?”

“Never have I ever - and I mean ever - been in a town as - as - as unique unto itself as Boston!” A few people look up. You don’t care. You had no idea that a man of his age could look so cute. “Apologies.” He lowers the volume of his voice - not that he really needed to. “Now, comin’ from the South, I’ve had my fair share of human nature, but the drivers here are a whole ‘nother species. It’s like the jungle out there.”

“Did you ever make the mistake of taking a taxi when you first came here?”

“Much to my chagrin, yes, yes I have.” He shakes his head disapprovingly, but you can see a little twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Not too long ago, in fact. The man was speakin’ on the phone and nearly drove us off a bridge... Nearly had a conniption of the heart.”

“That is pretty bad. In my first ride I was this close-” You bring up your thumb and pointer finger, the pads barely a millimeter apart. “-to getting run over by a cement truck because the driver ran a red light. He got mad at me too ‘cause I didn’t tip him.”

“Good lord, that is quite the experience...” His brow furrowed slightly.

“I saw my life go past my eyes.” You say dramatically. “But hey, that’s Boston.” You sigh heavily. “Anyway, how long have you lived in the city?”

“Jus’ a couple of months.” Aha. Just around the time he first started taking the bus... “Yourself?”

“A couple of years. I feel more and more like a true Bostonian every day that passes.” You chuckle. “The plus side though, is that I can show you where all the good food is. I can be your personal tour guide!” It takes a couple of milliseconds for your brain to register what you had just said. “Well, if you’d like that... The offer, uh, stands?” What are you talking about?

“I think I jus’ might take you up on that, if you wouldn’t mind.” This man. Bless this beautiful man. God, that smile. “That bein’ said, I do believe this is my stop.”

“Already? Time flies when you’re having fun.” You smile.

“Yes it does. It was a pleasure meetin’ you, Mx. (L/N),” He stands up. “And thank you very much for your kindness.” He waves the handwarmer a little.

“You can call me (Y/N) and you are very welcome.”

“Then call me Benoit, if you please. Now you have yourself a good day.” He smiles, waves a little, and hurries off the bus. And just like that, your whole year has just been made.

Did you pass your stop a while ago?

Were you smiling like an absolute idiot anyway?

Was your heart running faster than a kitten on parade?

Yes, yes, and yes.

I hope you all like this! I had so much fun writing it and it just flowed out of me. Side note, the title is inspired by Trixie Mattel’s song, Gold. She’s a country singer, but it’s actually good, so check it out! If you have any constructive criticism or requests, please let me know! I am also a big fan of comments - they make my week every time! See you all in the next one! - Simpy

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unforth · 3 years ago

Note

Could you elaborate on the parallels between the Scorpion and his dad and WKX and Purple Danger? I find that thought really interesting! <3

Oh my god you're asking me for meta? No one asks me for meta!!! Getting this made me so happy, thank you! And yes, I'd be delighted to!

Lemme preface this by saying: I have not read the book, and I've only seen episodes 1 through 27, and while I do know some spoilers for past what I've seen, I don't know everything, and I obviously can't speak to changes in dynamics that may happen past what I've watched.

So, I noted in this post that I felt like I'd just gotten slapped in the face by the parallels between Zhao Jing, and his relationship with Xie-er, and Wen Kexing, and his relationship and Gu Xiang. Specifically, the lines in episode 26 that caught me were these:

And the contrasts and similarities that they drew to these scene from Episode 24, which I watched yesterday:

(all screen caps are by me - I won’t have more screen caps just cause I really don’t have time to hunt them all down, I’m sorry, but the first two were easy to grab, and the second two I’d already taken cause that scene really got to me yesterday).

These lines, coming only two episodes apart, seemed like a really stark and deliberate effort to show a connection in the attitudes of Zhao Jing and Wen Kexing. They've also got some similarities in the childhood/history that got them to this point: Zhao Jing's family was fallen from grace, as was Wen Kexing's. Both are noted as seeming different from the "regular" people around them - Wen Kexing, it's explicit; with Zhao Jing, it's more how others seem to behave around him. It's harder to get a sense of Zhao Jing, since his own self-report is so dubious and the flashbacks we get to the Rong Xuan era are all given from the perspective of different unreliable narrators, whereas Wen Kexing's memories seem fairly intact (well, water of forgetfulness aside) and match the other remembrances we get of the same scenes.

With those similar, dubious foundations, they both resolve from a young age to take revenge for the perceived slights committed against them - and both have decided that regardless of who the specific instigators are for their suffering, they have no compunction about involving innocents as a whole. Zhao Jing wants the power he feels has been denied to him, and sets about conspiring to get that power. To achieve that, he sets about on a course that involves lying and using literally everyone who can help him. Likewise, while I'm still definitely missing some damn important of Wen Kexing's backstory (starting with, who protected the dog for him, and how he went from "kid getting regularly beaten by the previous ghost king" to "adult who is said to have literally eaten the previous ghost king"), he also clearly sets out to gain power through whatever means he can, and to survive, though from the get-go, his goal is essentially the inverse of Zhao Jing's: Zhao Jing wants to lift himself up, and sees nothing but virtue in doing so; Wen Kexing wants to bring everyone else down, and knows he's damned through-and-through for it.

(They're parallels, not matches, just to be clear! It's not that I'm saying everything is the same - on the contrary, it's the differences that makes it so intriguing).

Now, then, at some point relatively early in this entire process, each of these young men found a child. Given that Xie’er and Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishou are of the same generation, presumably they’re all around the same age - 27 or so - and also presumably, the previous generation were all in their late teens to early twenties when they had their own disastrous round of adventuring. So, if Xie’er is, say, 25, and Zhao Jing was probably around 20 (since he was one of the younger folks in the flashbacks), and 20 years have passed, and Xie’er was probably around the same age as child Wen Kexing when he was found? (I don’t know, and I don’t know if that’s ever established, sorry) So around 7? Then we’ve Xie’er being adopted by Zhao Jing and Wen Kexing being adopted by the Ghost King, each almost exactly 20 years ago. Presumably, also, Zhao Jing marries...drat, I can’t remember her name...was it Li Yao or something???...right around the same time - hence why Xie’er would think of her as a mother. Anyway, sorry, I’m really tired and I just lost the thread slightly, but the point is: a 20-or-so-year-old Zhao Jing finds a young Xie’er; and a few years later, a likely-early-teens-aged Wen Kexing finds a toddler Gu Xiang (because Wen Kexing is 27 now, and Gu Xiang is I’m guessing around 18, and she’s likely 3ish when Wen Kexing finds her, so that’d make her 3 or 4, and him 12 or 13).

And here’s where the parallels really show the essential differences between these men, despite the areas of commonality in the hate they hold toward the world and their desire to see the world brought low.

Because, given a small child, Wen Kexing’s immediate, clear thought is: I will never let this child experience what I have been through. Now, he’s busted, and he’s crazy, so from that point of view, he still does her harm: she thinks of murder as nothing (as does Xie’er) for example. But even in that, the motivations are different. Gu Xiang says it herself after she kills the beggar and Cao Weining confronts her about it: if a person is out to harm her, if a person even might harm her, isn’t she justified in killing him? If that isn’t the quintessential Wen Kexing lesson right there, I don’t know what is: “Gu Xiang, you don’t kill because I tell you to, and you don’t kill for fun, and you don’t kill for no reason - but the moment, the very instant, you have a reason? Don’t hesitate, because if you do, you’ll be the corpse, not them.” Everything Wen Kexing teachers Gu Xiang is with the aim of helping her survive in the cruelest environment in the world, one that has flayed him and raked him over the coals over and over and over again. Further, despite the hints I’ve seen so far that he has early allies at Mount Qingya (Tragicomic Ghost has been shown to at minimum pity him, and find him an odd curiosity), Wen Kexing entrusts no one else with the most vulnerable creature who has ever come into his life (well, aside from that adorable puppy, which I have the bad feeling is going to be shown to be horribly murdered before his eyes, possibly by his own hand to prove a point...that would be thematically appropriate...). He gives Gu Xiang the tools to survive and fight for herself, even against him, and when she even begins to suggest she might prefer to be somewhere else - when he sees evidence of her finding happiness - he does everything he can to encourage her joy, support her happy ending, and free her. Wen Kexing is Gu Xiang’s father, in every useful interpretation of the term - she may call him master, and others might call her his maid, but their relationship is tender, encouraging, mutually supportive, and loving. Wen Kexing wants what is best for Gu Xiang, even at the expense of his own comfort and happiness, because he cares for her that essentially and deeply - and she likewise goes out of her way to protect him more than once.

MEANWHILE.

Given a small child, though I haven’t yet seen any flashbacks to when Xie’er was little and I don’t even know if there are any, it’s really obvious that Zhao Jing instantly goes, “how can I best use this to my advantage?” Instead of setting about to build this child up to be a functional adult who can stand up to the challenges that threatened to crush Zhao Jing’s life, Zhao Jing deliberately sabotages Xie’er’s ability to function as an independent unit. He teachers Xie’er to kill, not to protect himself, but on command - to kill because Zhao Jing says so, who Zhao Jing says, on even the merest whim, and is so successful at doing so that Xie’er has even less respect for life than Zhao Jing does (which was never much to begin with). Further, while we know that Wen Kexing will kill to protect Gu Xiang, Zhao Jing never so much as lifts a finger to do his own dirty work, and has zero compunction about throwing Xie’er under the bus when he suits his ends. In 27, he flat out says - “if you keep acting like this, and kill the Gentle Wind Sect, you’ll ruin me - which means I can never let you stand next to me in public.” He says this when he knows that Xie’er craves his approval and that one of Xie’er’s most cherished objects in all he’s done is to reach a point where he can stand at Zhao Jing’s shoulder as an acknowledged heir and successor and proudly say, “yes, I did all those things to help my father, because I’m a good son.” Further, Zhao Jing is constantly abusive and manipulative. When Xie’er does what Zhao Jing has trained him to do, on command (like a dog? more parallels??), Zhao Jing praises him, touches him kindly (and when else do you think Xie’er is ever getting touched kindly? Nothing like the casual and appropriate physical intimacy with which Wen Kexing and Gu Xiang shoulder bump and interact) and tells him how precious he is. The instant Xie’er steps a toe out of line, Zhao Jing denigrates him, threatens to take away that which Xie’er most wants (acknowledgement), scolds him, calls him a fool, says he doesn’t understand. Zhao Jing calls Xie’er his son, and insists that Xie’er call him yifu, and the world may even see that way - though they hardly can, since Zhao Jing refuses to be publicly associated with Xie’er - but they couldn’t be less related when compared to Wen Kexing, who allows all to see him call Gu Xiang his servant even as he flagrantly, publicly, repeatedly treats her as his child - culminating in the speech he gives Cao Weining when he gives permission for them to wed.

Everything Wen Kexing does, as fucked up as some of it is, is done with the aim of building Gu Xiang up into a strong, independent, functional adult who is less stained than himself and capable of pursuing happiness in the world.

And everything Zhao Jing does, all of which is equally if not more fucked up than what Wen Kexing does, is done with the aim of tearing Xie’er down, making him a powerful tool - a trained dog, if you will - and a dependent person who can be deployed on an enemy and must be kept permanently off-balance so that he never ever is an independent, functional adult - and, to help ensure that, he deliberately orders Xie’er to commit depraved acts that guarantee that Xie’er is more stained than himself, and therefore incapable of finding happiness in the world.

Anyway, I could probably go on, but I gotta leave to drive my kid to school and run a couple errands, but, in conclusion: when Zhao Jing said, “the world has failed me, and I shall do the same to the world,” and it became clear to me that he and Wen Kexing essentially share (or at least shared) the same core goal, I was struck by a lightning bolt about the parallels and contrasts between them as people, and them as father’s, and here you go.

Hope this is coherent, I’m really sleepy and in a rush. :D And I hope it answers your question!

(Also dear everyone: if you reply to this or add to it in reblogs I ask that you please respect that I’ve only seen to episode 27, and not rip me apart for things I haven’t seen yet, and try to avoid giving me spoilers? I know a few - or at least I think I do - like I know all the Major Character Death stuff - but I’m sure if you’ve seen the whole series you can spot places where you, dear reader, know things I don’t, and I’d ask that you not ruin those places for me, because I’m watching as fast as I can - about one episode a day - and I’d rather find out for myself. Thank you!)

#unforth rambles #unforth metas #meta #word of honor #word of honor spoilers #word of honor meta

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maddogofshimano · 4 years ago

Text

Saejima (1988) Character Story

Yakuza 4 and 5 Spoilers

It took me a while to get to this one because there was a Valentine’s Scratcher event going on with Goromi as the top scratcher prize (only in game, not in the actual event story sadly) so I went ballistic on that.

Anyways, here’s our card!

For character stories they generally have one, maybe two talk sprites, so Saejima here is going to be looking like this for the majority of the story, even when it’s wildly inappropriate. Don’t worry about it!

Summary: A month before the hit in 1985, Saejima starts tutoring a kid and forms a bond with him. After 27 years Saejima is back in Kamurocho, but the kid was changed by the hit just as much as Saejima was...

1985, March One month before Saejima Taiga would become "The Legendary 18 Count Killer".

"Haa~ Thanks to getting wasted with my kyoudai, my head's pounding." (Tl note: he is not actually wandering around with the guns I promise.)

Saejima decides to stop in for coffee to help with his hangover. He overhears an elementary school-aged kid getting thrown out of cafe alps, it seems he just bought a single coffee and then hung around all day.

The manager tells him to go study at home. Saejima asks if there's a problem, the manager explains the situation, and the kid says that he's got a big exam coming up but his home is too noisy to study in.

Saejima asks if the store is really that crowded that he can't look the other way on this. The manager says that it's not an issue of being busy or not, but if he lets one kid sit there all day then all the kids are going to want to do the same. The kid begs for one more hour, just to do the practice exam. The manager refuses and tells the kid to scram, but Saejima says that if he pays for something for the kid, that'll be fine, right? The kid is overjoyed and calls him ojisan. Saejima says he ain't an ojisan, just call him Saejima.

The kid calls him Saejima no ojisan, and introduces himself as Ichirou, Nishiyamada Ichirou. (Tl note: there's a few different ways to read 一郎, but Ichirou is a common one and kind of matches up with the number+son of 吾郎 Goro, so that's what I'm sticking with.) Saejima tells him he better study hard, cause there's plenty of people in this world that don't have the opportunity to.

A few days later...

Ichirou is once again getting thrown out of Cafe Alps. He keeps telling the kid to go home, but he just won't listen. Saejima happens to see this again. He asks why they're going through the same song and dance again, and the manager asks if Saejima knows that after Saejima paid for Ichirou he ended up staying until the store closed and didn't cough up another cent? Saejima did not know that. Saejima asks Ichirou if anywhere quiet would work for studying. Ichirou says as much, and Saejima brings him to a nice place he knows near here.

Ichirou: Ojisan, what is this place? Saejima: Oh, here? Saejima: (I can't just tell him that it's an abandoned building the Sasai Family used to make use of...) Saejima: Uhhh... it's... an acquaintances building. We can use it however we like. Ichirou: Hmm, I see. But... there aren't any desks? Saejima: There's some mandarin boxes, ain't there? And for a cushion... cardboard will work well enough for ya. Ichirou: Yeah! ....This is kind of like a secret base, huh.

Saejima changes the subject back to this practice exam Ichirou is taking. He wants to go to a good school, but he's not very good at studying, so he hasn't been able to get the grade he needs. Saejima asks to see his study method. Ichirou shows him and Saejima agrees, that's not a very efficient method, and shows him a better one. Ichirou is surprised he knows how to study. Saejima tells him of course he does, dummy, he wanted to be a teacher. Getting kids to study would be a necessity.

Some time passes with Saejima teaching the kid how to study better, like identifying which problems will have the same sort of solutions. After a successful day they head out.

Ichirou is really thankful for all the help. Unfortunately, Ichirou's older brother's friends, a pack of goons, arrive. One of the goons tries to shake Ichirou down for cash, which Saejima does not take kindly to.

The goon calls Saejima an old man and tells him he's a dumbass if he thinks he can take on this many guys, and even Ichirou tells Saejima not to fight them, they're all members of a biker gang, and they're really strong. Saejima is of course not deterred by this, and tells Ichirou to run away if he needs to while he handles it.

Saejima tells them to keep their hands off Ichirou from now on, they agree, call him a beast, and flee. Ichirou thinks Saejima is just the coolest. Saejima asks if those guys are usually shaking him down like that, turns out they are, and Saejima is pissed that they'd do that to a kid. He tells Ichirou to let him know if they try anything like that again. Ichirou agrees, but he doesn't think it's right to be protected all the time, so he'd like to get stronger too.

Saejima asks what he means by stronger. Ichirou says that he actually wants to become a cop. His father was a great cop, and he wants to be like that. Saejima is shocked that his dad is a cop.

He recovers quickly though, and asks more about why Ichirou wants to become a cop. He says that his dad is super cool, he's so brave to be facing yakuza and protecting the common folk from bad people. Saejima says he sounds like an excellent father. Ichirou agrees, but he's always worried about his father getting hurt with how dangerous Kamurocho is, so he wants Saejima to teach him how to fight. Saejima is hesitent about this, it's dangerous to fight people, and it's better to just get out of there.

Ichirou begs to be taught, if he's going to be a cop he needs to be strong! He swears he'll be Saejima's disciple. Saejima asks if he'll be okay if Saejima's tough on him. Ichirou says of course! Thank you, Saejima-sensei! Saejima's a little embarrased to be called sensei. Ichirou asks what he usually does. Saejima says... he's a freelancer. Ichirou doesn't know what that means, but that's fine.

1985, March 10 days before Saejima Taiga would take his first steps towards becoming "The Legendary 18 Count Killer".

Ichirou hasn't shown up for tutoring for several days, leaving Saejima to wonder what's going on. He heads out to look and sees Ichirou in the street and asks him why he's stopped going to the hideout. Ichirou immediately bursts into tears.

Saejima calms him down and they go to a cafe to talk about things. Apparently Ichirou's father has been seriously injured while doing police work. He was dragged into some trouble, there was a shoot-out while trying to protect a woman but... his father was shot badly, and may never walk again.

Saejima lets Ichirou cry it all out and asks if he'll be okay to get home on his own. Ichirou says he'll be fine, and brings up Saejima's "school", which it takes Saejima a moment to realize is the ruined hideout. Ichirou thinks he's going to stop, he doesn't want to be a police officer anymore. Saejima asks if Ichirou got scared because of what happened to his dad. Ichirou says it is, and asks if it's okay if he stops going to the school.

Saejima says that things have been hard, so it's fine to take a little break, but he shouldn't lose sight of his goals to live up to his father. Even if he gets off-track, he can get himself where he wants to go anyways. He may not have his father to live up to right now, but he has his heart, and that will guide him true. Ichirou thanks him, and Saejima tells him to get some rest. (Tl note: the phrase Saejima uses a lot here is 見習うべき背中 which I couldn't find as an idiom or anything, but is along the lines of learning from/imitating [someone's] back/spine. "Live up to" is what I used for the most part)

Saejima does wonder about that yakuza incident, and figures he can look into it. Of course, by "look into it", he means beating the information out of a hapless goon.

Saejima: A few days ago there was a scuffle on Pink Street between some yakuza. Were you the one involved? Yakuza: Ah!? What do you mean!? Saejima: Ya tried to shoot that civilian woman, right? But the bullet ended up hittin' the cop who was protectin' her... Saejima: So then ya booked it outta there... That seem about right? Yakuza: Bastard, are you a cop? You can't prove nothing... Saejima: Nah. I ain't a cop. Let's just call this... payback.

Saejima thinks to himself that Ichirou should be able to rest easy now that Saejima's gotten some vengeance for him.

A few days later...

Saejima is walking past the hideout and notices the lights are on in it. Ichirou is inside, seems he's doing a lot better now, and he says that he's been thinking about what Saejima said and has decided he won't give up on his dream of becoming a police officer. He was really inspired by what Saejima said, and he thought that it's not just his dad he wants to live up to, there's another man he wants to emulate. He wants to be a man like his father, and like Saejima-sensei!

Saejima is touched. Ichirou says that with all that in mind, he's ready to continue!

A few days later, in Saejima's apartment...

Saejima gets a call, someone wants to talk to him about something important. He meets them at the park.

He's told about the hit, and asked to think it over and give his response soon.

Saejima: (For Boss Sasai's sake, there's nothin' I wouldn't do... That's what I've always thought...) Saejima: (A hit, huh. And on the Ueno Seiwa family...) Saejima: (I've steeled my heart. But even still... This is crossin' a line I can't ever undo)

Saejima goes to the hideout.

Ichirou: What? Today's our last day? Ichirou: W-Why!? Saejima: ......Sorry. Ichirou: Why? Why are we stopping? Saejima: I ain't the kind of guy ya want to live up to. Chasin' after me will bring ya nothin' but sorrow. Ichirou: ...Ojisan. I don't understand... Saejima: Ichirou. I'm sorry. ...Become an excellent police officer. Ichirou: Ojisan...

1985, April 21st. ...Saejima Taiga massacred a large gathering of the Ueno Seiwa Family. After the incident he was called "The Legendary 18 Count Killer". For his crimes Saejima was given a death sentence...

2012, December in Kamurocho... It's been 27 years since Saejima's 18 person hit. Upon hearing of Majima's death, Saejima has broken out of Abashiri Prison in Hokkaido in pursuit of the truth. This search has led him once more back to Kamurocho...

Saejima is on the run from the cops. He ducks into an alleyway only to be faced by goons. He doesn't have time to deal with them right now, and considers if he needs to just hide until they go away. Thankfully for Saejima, a police officer stops the goons. They complain, haven't they paid the cop enough? The cop tells them that he's got no room to complain, after all, it's thanks to him that these goons can eat all the great food they want outside of a cell.

They hand over the cash. Unfortunately the cop spots Saejima. He turns to run, but the cop recognizes him.

Cop: ...S-Saejima... sensei?

Saejima: Ah? Cop: I knew it... it is you. The escaped convict I kept hearing about... Saejima: ....Y-You're, no way, are you... Saejima: ...Ichirou? Ichirou: ........It's been a while. Saejima: ...I see ya managed to become a police officer. Ichirou: Yes. As you can see. Saejima: Yeah. I'm glad. As much as I wanna enjoy meetin' again, ya caught me at a bad time.

Saejima: ....Ichirou. I'm sorry to ask, but could ya pretend ya didn't see me? I still got somethin' I need to do. I can't get caught yet... Ichirou: ...Heh. What, got another person to murder? I was shocked when you killed those 18 people. "Saejima-*sensei*"... Saejima: ! Ichirou: You kept the fact that you were a yakuza a secret the whole time. Despite that, you pretended like you were a good teacher... Saejima: No, that was... Ichirou: ...It's fine. I'll look the other way. I don't know what you're planning, but that's fine. Ichirou: And, 500,000. I'll take it as a payment. Saejima: Ichirou... you... Saejima: Isn't that the same bribe you just got from those chinpira? Where did ya pick that habit up? Ichirou: Saejima!! I am nothing like the child I once was! Saejima: .....Wouldn't this make your dad sad? What happened to becomin' an excellent officer? Ichirou: ...Like a murderer has any room to talk. ...Well, whatever. Just pay me the money already. Saejima: .............Ichirou. I don't have any money to pay ya with right now. Ichirou: Is that so. In that case, I don't have any reason to let you go, right? Saejima: Yeah... Ichirou: Well, guess I have no choice... You all! Come make yourselves useful! Goons: Eh? Ichirou: Beat the hell out of Saejima. Try not to kill him. Goon: H-Huh? Why us? You already took all our cash, now this... Ichirou: ...Robbery and assault. How many more things do you think I've looked the other way on? Goon: Hnn... Ichirou: Do you want to eat shitty rice in jail!? Are you going to ruin your life!? Goons: S-Shit!!

After the fight the goons cower, Saejima is just too strong. Ichirou decides to escalate, and pulls out a dagger he had confiscated. He gives it to the goons to use, and tells them to stab Saejima to death.

Saejima: ...Ichirou. You... Ichirou: Saejima!! This is the price of your betrayal! I'll get the credit for this! Ichirou: Well!? I'll be putting away all of you fucks if you don't!! Goon: .....D-Dammiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!! Damn this shitty cop! Ichirou: Wh-... Are you really turning against me, even knowing what will happen... Goon: Shut uppp! I have a *much* better use for this! You're the one who's going to die!! Ichirou: A-Ahhhh!

Ichirou: Eh? Saejima: ...Guh... Damn, that really hurt. Goon: ....Ah. Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah... Goon: Ahhhhhh!

Ichirou: ....W-Why? Saejima: C'mon. You were about to get stabbed. Saejima: Ain't it the same kinda thing yer father suffered? Ichirou: ....... Saejima: ....Shit. I... made my choice... to take that blade...

Saejima: ...Ichirou, what are ya doing? Aren't ya gonna arrest me? Nothin' I can do about it, right now. Ichirou: ...... Ha, hahah. Ichirou: You haven't changed at all, have you. Add yet my hands have gotten so dirty...

Saejima: ! Ichirou... Ichirou: .......27 years ago. I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to think there had been some kind of mistake. Ichirou: ...I was in shock. I had seen the kind of man you were, and you were dazzling... Ichirou: ...But now, once more... I was able to see that again. Saejima: ...Ichirou. Saejima: ...Guh... Shit... Ichirou: I know a back alley doctor. They're close by... Saejima: No, I don't need taken care of. I'll do somethin' about this myself. Ichirou: But... Saejima: Heh. Stop givin' me that soft look. Ichirou: ... Then get out of here before anyone else comes. Is there anything I can do for you? Saejima: Is that gonna be okay? Just look the other way. Ichirou: Heh... I became a dirty cop a long time ago. Looking the other way one more time, for you, that's no problem at all. Saejima: ... I'm sorry, Ichirou. But... once I'm done with this, I'm going to atone for my crimes. I'll do it right. Ichirou: ... Atone, huh. Ichirou: ...Hey. Can you tell me one thing? Could I, even after all this, could I start over clean? Saejima: Yeah. People can always become better. Your feelings are proof of it. Ichirou: ........Truly? Saejima: Heh. That's what I learned from 25 years in the clink. It's the truth. Ichirou: Haha. You may be right... Police: There he is! Saejimaaaa! Saejima: Tch. They're comin'. Ichirou, see ya. Be strong! Ichirou: You as well. ......Saejima-sensei. Saejima: !

Saejima: ......Haha. Man, that's still embarassin'. ....See ya!

Ichirou: Someone to live up to, huh... Ichirou: ........Saejima-sensei. You truly are... the best teacher.

<END>

Bonus time: Hey rggo team? Hey guys?? You didn’t need to hurt Saejima MORE can’t the guy catch a break???

I like the expressions on this card a lot, here’s the rare “happy 1985 Saejima”

He makes that face exactly once for like 3 lines of dialogue while he’s teaching and then never again. Hey that hurts too actually. This card is just painful all around!!

an extra special bonus, all of the Goromis I got in my mania

She’s my highest atk unit now, beating out even Legend Majima

#rggo #Saejima #yakuza #Ryu ga Gotoku #ryu ga gotoku online #Saejima Taiga

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txdoroki · 4 years ago

Note

I was wondering if I could ask for a request where the reader is a fashion designer and is hosting like a runway show to show off their designs but a model couldn’t make it/ was sick and they were panicking cause they needed someone to fill in for thier favorite outfit. And so they get either bakugo, Tenya or aizawa (whoever you want to write) to fill in. And after the show, the reader was like 🥺 wow you did such a good job, we should work together again 😊 and the charecter is like sure, but you gotta go on a date with me :))

This could just be like a quick drabble, I just though it would be interesting

I hope this isn’t too much to ask :)) and if you don’t want to do it, no problem. This is my first time requesting anything, so I hope it’s clear enough! Have a nice day, thank you!!!

of course! this is a really fun idea i hope you like what i wrote! it isn’t too much to ask, thank you for the request! have a nice day aswell :)

(includes bakugou, iida, aizawa)

desc: you’re a fashion designer hosting your first show, and the man who was going to showcase the best outfit you had planned called in.... he can’t make it.

warnings: none

words: 1,275

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

your dream of becoming a fashion designer was finally coming true. tonight!

you’d worked so hard for all of this, saving up money since you were 15. 7 years of money saving kickstarted you to your dream, a runway show.

it had a mix of masculine, feminine, and androgynous outfits for your models.

the outfit you were most excited for others to see was one you’d been working on for ages, collecting bits and pieces for it over the years.

while daydreaming about how amazing the show would be, you got a call from the model who would be showing that outfit’s manager. ah fuck.

“hello, miss y/n. i’m sorry to inform you in such late notice that (name of model) has caught a cold, and cannot come in. good luck with your show.”

oh shit. what will you do now??

*now this splits into each character’s section*

-bakugou-

the model that the agency came up with instead of the planned, was none other than bakugou katsuki himself. he had a widespread reputation of being aggressive, but he was more just pissy when he showed up.

“the names bakugou. now, who do i owe the pleasure to?” he scoffed, “y/n? cute. for a goddamned puppy.”

what is that even supposed to mean?

you didn’t have time to retort back, instead getting a call that your show will soon be beginning.

“yeah yeah, i know the drill,” he winked, turning away, “hope i don’t disappoint or whatever. not that i give two shits.”

you nervously walked to the seat you saved for yourself, a crowd of people surrounded the runway, including some very famous designer agencies that were on the lookout for new designers to employ.

you took a deep breath as your show began, and so far it all was going to plan!

all of the outfits had the crowd gasping in surprise, taking in the small details that’d be missed if they were not fashion enthusiasts themselves.

when bakugou was next, you were silently wishing and hoping that he’d pull off the outfit. you knew it’d look amazing on him since he’s good looking anyways, but you swear if he fucks up you’ll yell his ear off.

“last outfit for tonight folks, worn by the firey model himself, bakugou katsuki,” the announcer said as bakugou walked out.

he looked better than the original model, and you had to dig your nails into your hand to stay quiet.

once he got to the end of the runway, he struck a pose and walked back.

afterwards, he walked up to you. this was confusing to you, you’ve never heard of models really doing that.

“i made that outfit look so hot, nice designing skills,” he complimented, bringing a small blush to your cheeks, “what? i just told you you had skill, not like i told you you’re hot.” he snickered, “you are anyways though.”

“um yeah thanks,” you figured now would be a good time to ask, “you did very good, you wanna work together again sometime?”

his eyes gleamed with satisfaction, “sure, but you gotta let me take you out to dinner.”

“huh??”

“you heard me,” he winked and pushed a piece of paper with his phone number into your hand before walking away.

-text-

you: hii

bakugou: hey;) ill pick you up tomorrow at 7

-iida-

the agency told you their other models were busy, so you had to have one of your models do their original outfits plus the favorite.

you, obviously, chose the most talented model you had. tenya iida. his family had a long long line of models (see what i did there;)) and he was most definitely the best in your eyes.

when you offered the job to him, he agreed instantly, saying it was good for him to help you as he wanted to convey how responsible he was to his family.

he took the agreement a little far, even saying that he’d never let you down as that is his duty to fulfill, but you just let him get determined to succeed. it was nice that he was so passionate about modeling, he always made sure to give things his very best.

“this outfit is very creative and well-crafted. good job, miss y/n.” iida gave you two thumbs up before running to get into his first outfit for the night.

iida was extremely talented, always getting the best ratings and reviews from the public. a few times he was put on the front cover of a magazine, gaining him a lot of followers.

during the few times he walked, he got many cheers from the crowd. many people found him to be insanely attractive, some even came to shows with him in them just for him. you found him so lucky, and it shocked you to find he didn’t have a girlfriend at all for how many people thirst for him.

the way he looked in the ending piece was just- arf arf awooga sexy. you could’ve gotten a nosebleed from how hot he was.

after the show you looked for him, wanting to thank him for the favor.

when you finally found him, he was arguing with one of your other models about how they were there two minutes later than told. it’s very important to the public to be responsible and good at timing. you cannot succeed with trashy expectations, was around what we was saying, but you weren’t really tuned in.

“hey, iida! good job tonight, i really appreciate you working with me so kindly,” you smiled at him.

“of course, y/n! it’s my duty. would you wish to collaborate with me in future business ideals?”

“hmmm.... on one condition,” you smirked, “you have to go on a date with me!”

“i would love to, thank you, y/n.”

-aizawa-

none of your other models would agree to wearing the outfit, saying their schedules were too packed to fit it in.

you figured you might as well call your friend aizawa, he was hot and good at looking like his ego was too big.

“what do you want, y/n?” he yawned into the phone.

“please, shota, do you mind being a guest in my runway show?”

“what’s in it for me?”

“huh?”

“let me take you out on a date and i’ll agree to being in the show,” you could tell how absolutely serious he was. made you lowkey happy cause you’d been thirsting for him for a while.

“yeah yeah, now get here asap dummy,” you chuckled when he whispered a maybe too loud yay, hanging up the phone.

“y/n, have you got a fill-in for the finishing outfit?” your assistant asked.

“yes, add ‘shota aizawa’ to the list.” you ordered, your assistant immediately scribbling down his name, thanking you as they hurried away.

you knew aizawa would rock it, he was actually the inspiration for the entire piece. many people were confused as they’d never seen him before, but were hoping they would again sometime.

he looked so handsome in it, and you were really happy he wanted to take you on a date.

after the show you were lost in thought, wondering what kind of date he’d take you on. would it be dinner? or the beach? or the park? or target? you loved target. truly it didn’t matter to you where he took you, even if you would just be at his place for a few hours you were still super hyped.

“let’s go, y/n,” aizawa walked up to you and took your hand, dragging you to his car.

“you’re lucky i took the subway here,” you scoffed, clicking your seatbelt on.

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sillyandquiteawkward · 4 years ago

Photo

little father and bayley fic under the cut bc i forgot my ao3 password and im lazy. hope you enjoy

Food supplements and leafy greens sat on Doctor Bayley's plate, which he picked at distastefully. The Director of the Institute, Father, sat across from him, making decent headway with his own meal.

"I don't think I can ever learn to enjoy the food supplements. This flavor isn’t palatable either," Bayley curtly complained with a heavy sigh. He felt Father's lingering judgement upon him for refusing most of his meal again, without even having to look up. He poked at the slab of supplement with the tines of his fork. Even the various flavors the Institute boasted of supplements couldn't save Bayley from the pastes, powders, and bars turning his stomach. He was trying his best to find a flavor he could stand, but to Bayley, even mirelurk was easier to eat. At least the fresh vegetables were decent, if not simply boiled or baked if cooked at all. "I'd kill for some real meat on your menu."

"Come now, Doctor, we have little need to slaughter irradiated animals for food in this day and age. BioScience has developed the perfect meal dozens of times over, consisting of the exact amount of daily nutrients a man like yourself needs," Father replies coolly. Bayley glared at the older man. Of course he'd like them -- he grew up on the damn things. Well, Bayley grew up on real food!

"Designed a food that doesn't even fill your stomach," he mumbled behind his mug as he took a sip. Now to their credit, this was something Bayley actually liked. The coffee wasn't stale 200 year old beans and grounds. My god, they perfected the damn synthetic coffee and Bayley couldn't imagine going back.

Father confidently smirked, passing smoothly over Bayley's remark with a gentle shake of his head. "You poor surface dwellers, eating any and all the food you can scrounge to stave off hunger. I'm glad we were able to save you from that life. Give it time, Doctor. Your stomach will re-adjust to your new diet."

Bayley scoffed dismissively and set his fork down to keep nursing his coffee. Father took his own sip of tea. The pair fell into a dip of silence, accompanied by the gentle clink of silverware against plate as Father continued to finish off his lunch. Behind them a few tables over, there was a slight chatter from another pair of scientists in the cafeteria. Licking a crumb of food supplement left on the edge of his mug with a grimace, Bayley listened to their distant hushed conversation. Sounded like gossip about another scientist’s love affair... Hard to believe that even the “perfect” Institute could be filled with, what was ultimately, humans.

Father spoke up after a minute of Bayley straining to eavesdrop, "Why don't you tell me about yourself, Doctor?"

"...Why?" Bayley eyed Father suspiciously. "Don't you already know all about me? Isn't that why I'm here?"

Father took a warm sip of his mug before continuing. "I know about your reputation, or lack thereof." Bayley all but growled at the dig. "And I know you care deeply for the progress of humanity, as do I, albeit a tad misguided. You’re a highly intelligent man, Doctor, but I'm afraid I don't know about you, personally. I'd like to remedy that."

What could Bayley tell Father about? Why should he? Oh, but he loved to talk about himself... Bayley leaned back in his chair with folded hands in his lap, food left forgotten on his plate. "What is there to say? I'm a man married to his work, who likes breathing fresh air. On the surface."

“What got you into studying radiation?” Bayley noticed Father missed his complaint, or at least was ignoring it. “Surely you didn’t set out from the start on such a dangerous fascination.” Father had a look of curiosity on his face that seemed genuine to Bayley, although he still had suspicions this had ulterior motives.

“It was almost from the beginning actually. As I studied medicine in my youth, traveling along the Wasteland, I have to admit,” Bayley paused to consider his wording. “I had a distinct admiration of the ghoul’s ability to utilize radiation to build themself anew. The destructive power of radiation makes using it dangerous and even deadly, true, but I imagined a world where we could manipulate the human body to replicate how a ghoul’s body uses the gamma particles destructive properties to heal themselves, sans the ghoulification process of course.” Okay, so maybe he planned to be cagey, but Father just had to ask him about the thing he’s devoted his entire life to. Sorry, he’s gonna get excited. “I’d seen first hand ghouls reattach long lost limbs to themselves and remain functional, ferals even being brought back to life by glowing ones’ radiation bursts, and the stories of people growing functional limbs from radiation exposure caught my particular attention at a young age.”

“Fascinating things ghouls are, although their rotten brains and appearance are less than desirable. If anything their longevity is what catches my attention. Living over hundreds of years...” Father drifts off, looking past Bayley. “Imagine what one could achieve with that extra time.”

“Living forever doesn’t matter if you aren’t healthy,” Bayley corrected. “What’s the point of living if you are just suffering every day. I’m focusing myself to helping people in this day and age, instead of chasing functional immortality.”

“Maybe that’s the difference between us,” Father sighs. “Everything I do is for tomorrow, and tomorrow’s tomorrow. Humanity's future lies in our successor’s hands. It’s a shame we cannot directly work with our future generations to combine our knowledge. All we can do is help prepare them for when we are gone.”

“Eventually people in charge need to step down and let the fresh ideas in, otherwise we’ll collectively stagnate. We are stubborn creatures who hate change, snuffing out ideas that contradict our own. If someone like you lived forever, he’d never give up the reins.”

“I suppose you’d do the same,” Father states blandly, eyes half-lidded. “As you said, we are stubborn creatures.”

Bayley sputters, sitting back up in his chair. “No, I am the innovator in this scenario! I’ve been ostracized for my ideas, kicked out and shunned. No one sees my potential to change the world!”

“And in your age, have you begun to prepare an heir to your scientific knowledge, Doctor? Or do you think you can finish this chronicle yourself, with the few years left in your life?”

“I-I have to prove myself first! No one trusts my work because they don’t see the proof -- which I was working on when you so kindly stole me away from my clinic and subjects!” Bayley hissed, gripping the edge of the table.

Unphased, Father folded his hands on the table. “I trust your work, Doctor Bayley. I’ve seen your studies, seen what you can do when you are truly devoted to a cause. This is why I wanted you with us at the Institute. I want you to share your knowledge to us, so that we may pass it to the future with us. Let us help you ensure your legacy. We have the same goals, and we even have similar methods if you can believe it. Imagine what we can do together when we combine our knowledge, for humanity’s sake.”

Bayley raised an eyebrow at that. “Similar goals perhaps, but I wont be a part of the kidnapping and killing of Commonwealth citizens. You Institute folk are outrageously barbaric for all your self-righteousness.”

“We simply know how to weigh the importance of breaking a few eggs for the omelette. You too understand this principle closely, don’t you?”

Bayley grimaced flatly. “You truly know how to charm a man to your side.” This conversation was over if Bayley had anything to say about it, which he did. He gulped from his mug, keeping it up to his mouth as he turned physically away from Father. He’ll finish this and go back to his room. Trapped in the Institute with these madmen, forced to go along with things else suffer the same fate as the hundreds of others taken to the Institute. And Father had the gall to act like they were the same, that Bayley could excuse innocents murdered for “science.” He slammed the mug back onto the table.

“I hope you’ll understand one day soon, Doctor. I really do.” Father sighed, closing his eyes in defeat as Bayley stood up.

“I don’t want to understand,” Bayley said as he stormed past Father back to the concourse.

It was too much to think about, if Bayley was being honest with himself. He grit his teeth climbing the stairs, tense. A scientist descending the stairs stood to the side as Bayley passed, clearly wanting to give the angry man some space and avoid any conflict. Good. If he was to stay here, people should give way for him. Now if only Father was like that. He passed a pair of expressionless generation two synth guards eyeing their laser weapons as he ascended the next flight.

God, he was annoyed. Of course Father had to go ruin another meal together talking nonsense of Bayley hurting others. He tried his best not to hurt his subjects -- everyone was willing and importantly, no one had died under his care! Sick perhaps in the early days... but it wasn’t death! Bayley couldn’t stand the idea his great idea could possibly kill others when it was supposed to be helping them. If he was ever responsible for someone’s death...

Bayley slid open the automatic door to his small, barren room. It was just a simple bed and desk, which was plenty for Bayley, but he wished he had his trinkets and such if he was going to be living here until the day he dies. He collapsed onto the stiff bed, face pressing against the cool pillow. He missed his couch. He missed his clinic. Bayley even considered he missed being annoyed by Jonathan and Jay’s antics. Jay would try his best to cheer him out of this spiraling train of thought, and Jon would know plenty of things to distract him with.

If he was ever responsible for their deaths, Bayley considered he’d quit on the spot. He’d probably become deeply depressed until he really did just curl up and die, however fast it came after. All his life’s work to save humanity, and he’d killed the only people who trusted him most to do so.

But the truly terrible part of him hidden away deep in his heart wondered that if someone was to die as a result of his work, perhaps even if he wasn’t working willingly with the Institute, that he'd simply wouldn’t care.

#doc bayley #father #shaun #silly art tag

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lu-undy · 4 years ago

Text

Valentine’s day 4 - Hurt and comfort

(Warning for unwanted kiss!) Here it is!

"Gentlemen."

Spy entered the kitchen and was greeted by his colleagues, sitting around the breakfast table. All acknowledged his entrance with a courteous nod, or a "good morning". All, but one who didn't move.

Sniper took his coffee mug and exited the room, paying attention to go around the table and avoid contact with Spy.

"He's still mad at ya?" Engie asked as Spy frowned. He had felt it like a dagger in his chest, Sniper's departure. And he knew it was no mere coincidence that he had decided to leave as Spy entered.

"It would seem so." Spy helped himself to some coffee and sat around the table at his place. The seat opposite him was empty.

"What's wrong between you two? Maybe we can help?" Engie kindly offered.

"Non, merci." Spy answered, slightly coldly, his eyes riveted on the empty chair in front of him.

"Ha, what's it feel like bein' rejected, eh, fancypants?" Scout mocked and Spy put his fingers on the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes to contain his rage.

"Uh, pardner, j-just finish your cereals, right? I can try and order more soda for you after?" Engie tried to calm the storm that he felt incoming.

"Nah, Engie, c'mon! Not everyday the stuck up Frenchie gets rejected. I wanna know what he feels like!" Scout went on.

The chatter around the table ended and all the eyes were now on Spy. Spoons and toasts were hanging in the air. The mercenaries knew that Spy wasn't the type to answer Scout's provocations. They expected him to sigh and take another sip of his coffee.

Instead, he lit a cigarette and started smoking.

"C'mon, Spy! Tell us! And you still got that black eye from your fight with the enemy Snipes, eh?"

Spy sucked on his cigarette and the smoke burnt his nose and his airway all the way down to his very lungs. It stung him and managed to absorb the boiling rage within him.

"Scout, please…" Engie insisted.

"Nah, today, he's gonna feel like one of us. Maybe that's gonna teach him not to be a pretentious piece of crap! See what you feel, Spy? That's how low I felt when I wedged my head through your door to ask you for help with Miss Pauling!"

Spy finished gulping down his coffee and stood up. He headed for the door.

"Ha! That's it! Now go away and cry in your fancy mask or something!"

"Scout." Spy's voice split the room. "You want to know how I feel?" He asked, facing the door and giving his back to his colleagues at the table.

"Y-yeah?" Scout started to be scared. He hadn't expected Spy to answer his insults.

"I feel the same way as your father did when your mother decided to leave him." Spy answered and left his colleagues agape as he went out of the room. The noise of the door shutting made all the mercenaries uncomfortable. Their eyes went to Scout.

"Bullshit! Ma' didn't leave my Dad! It's him who left!"

His colleagues' shoulders sank. Scout's being oblivious was a gift for himself, even if he was oblivious to that too.

Outside of the base, Spy had knocked at the Aussie's door, on his campervan.

"Piss off."

"Non."

"Piss off, or I'll pop your head off."

"Non."

Sniper sighed.

"You can stay there all day if you want, I won't open."

"D'accord."

[Alright.]

It was Saturday and the mercenaries could enjoy their weekend. Sniper tidied up his van, and kept himself busy, as best as he could. He knew that, stubborn as he was, Spy would indeed stay there, all day if necessary.

And he did. Smoking cigarette after cigarette, comitting a genocide in his metallic cigarette case. His eyes became red before the sunset sky did. He knew it was all a misunderstanding. He knew it was all useless. But what remained true is that Sniper had seen him, at the end of day's match, the day before.

As the Administrator announced the end of the round, Sniper was looking for his colleague. Well, colleague… It seemed cold to use that word now. They were more than that, oh so much more.

After waiting for Spy to show up unsuccessfully, the Aussie started looking for him, going through the battlefield and calling him out. When he found him, his heart sank.

Spy was being pinned against the wall by the enemy Sniper and receiving attentions that left no doubt as to what was going on...

"Spy…?"

The enemy Sniper stepped away from Spy and their lips disconnected.

"You can get'im back, yeah, sorry I've been a bit long with him."

Sniper's jaw had dropped. He had frowned and went back to the base, Spy running after him and shouting for him. The Aussie ignored him and locked himself up in his van, only to reappear the next morning for breakfast…

Spy sighed as he crushed his billionth cigarette butt. He was sitting on the step at the van's back and watched the lights switch on through the base's windows, as the sun sank below the horizon. He could see the shadows of his colleagues through the curtained windows and he stared.

It was a misunderstanding. He never had wanted to kiss the enemy Sniper. They had been fighting until the very end, hence his black eye. As the Administrator's melodious voice blasted through the speakers, the enemy Sniper knew that if he sliced Spy up, he would die and not respawn, which of course prevented him from doing that.

Instead, he chose to humiliate him and make him understand that he had won this encounter, even if he hadn't killed him. He had Spy pinned from his throat and the Frenchman could feel something pressing menacingly against his crotch.

"Will you let me go? The match has ended, in case you were deaf." He said between clenched teeth and struggling to get some air.

"Not yet, mate, gotta make you get who won this time."

"I get it. You did. Now let me go-oh?!"

And on these words, the enemy Sniper pushed his lips against Spy who tried to kick him but the kukri pressed harder and he genuinely feared for his life. No respawn would fix him if he pushed his foe too hard. And he hated it. The enemy Sniper was a man that he respected as an enemy until then. Humiliation of that kind was something that Spy didn't think his enemy was capable of.

"Spy…?"

His teammate Sniper's voice put an end to that filthy and unwanted kiss. When the enemy Sniper finally let go of him - not without snickering - Spy spat out and away. He took a handkerchief to wipe his mouth and ran after his friend.

His friend. Sniper was so much more than a friend.

"Hm."

The door opened and Spy jumped to his feet.

"Sniper?"

The Aussie ignored him and went to the base with his bag of dirty clothes in his hand as if he hadn't seen Spy standing there. The Frenchman's shoulders sank sadly. About an hour later, he came back.

"Sniper, please?"

The Aussie put his wet clothes on the line between his van and the base and slipped back inside his narrow dwelling. He didn't say a word, nor did he even look at Spy...

In the end, Spy had stayed there the entire day, smoking like a train, or like a fireman, as they say in French. He stayed as the sun rose to its zenith, he stayed under the scorching afternoon sun, he stayed when the sun went down and under the horizon line. He only stood up once to throw all his cigarette butts in the outside bin of the base. He took advantage of his being standing up to stretch his legs and back before sitting back down.

"Merde…" Spy cursed, as he realised his cigarette case was empty. He put it back in his pocket and sighed.

[Shit]

It was ridiculous and had lasted long enough.

"Sniper, if you don't open that door, I will pick the lock!"

"Piss off." The muffled voice answered.

"Fine." Spy opened his cigarette case and took the pins concealed inside. He slid them in the lock and started twisting them until he heard a satisfactory click. He pulled the door and entered.

Sniper was unfazed, lying on his bed, watching the stars through the ceiling window.

"I need to explain everything to you." Spy said as he put his pins back where they belonged and he shut the door. "I did not exchange a kiss with the enemy Sniper."

Sniper seemed as though he wasn't listening at all.

"I did not want to kiss him." Spy raised his head. Sniper being unresponsive got on his nerves. He hadn't eaten all day to say all these things and the other one didn't even dare lend an ear? "Are you even listening?!"

"No."

"Why?"

"I know what I saw. You're with him now, go away."

"Non, I am not and non, I will not."

"Don't keep him waitin'. 's rude."

"Sniper…"

"Nah, it's fine. Guess I was the idiot. I trusted you and all. But it's fine, no biggie. Just go and leave me alone."

"Non. I will not leave this van until you listen to me properly."

"Wastin' your time." He answered.

"Talk about a waste of time when you did not spend the entire day at your door smoking! I skipped lunch and melted under the afternoon sun for a chance to speak to you! I will not leave before I do so!"

Sniper sighed and sat up on his bed, finally looking at Spy. He came down from his bed and towered Spy.

"I skipped lunch too. I was locked up here cause of you watchin' and listenin' to my moves all day long. Even for my laundry I had to wait. Bloody ridiculous. So now, if you don't mind, I'd like to sleep in peace."

"He forced me!" Spy exclaimed. "He had a hand on my throat and a blade between my legs! It even started to rip the silk! Look!" Spy parted his legs slightly to show where the textile had been cut. "All that after the end of the match. He was this close to killing me for good!"

"I knew you liked it rough but eh, whatever."

"Sniper!"

"Right. So he held a knife at your pants and you fell for him and kissed him. Ok, got it. Now, why on Earth are you still here?"

"You don't get it, you idiot!"

"Oh I think I do. He showed you who's boss, you liked it and boom. I think that sums it up, mate."

Spy frowned.

"He humiliated me."

"Some folks like it that way."

"You know very well I do not." Spy answered, his teeth clenched. He sighed. "He forced his lips on me as a way to 'show me who is the boss' indeed, but not in a sexual way, as you are implying it. Non. He would have sliced through me, had the Administrator not called the end of the match. He did that obscene thing to show that he won, to humiliate me. I am grateful no one else saw this."

"Yeah, well, I did."

"And I thank you in part."

"What?!"

"I thank you because God knows what more he would have done if you hadn't intervened! Maybe he would have stayed on my lips in front of his colleagues too? Who knows! I was dying of shame!" Lucien exclaimed. "When he freed me, I spat out his filth and ran after you. But it was too late. Your mind had already processed everything…" He hid his face in his hands.

"Has he ever done that to you before?" Sniper asked.

"Non, I swear…! And I would never enjoy that!" Lucien turned his back to Mundy and wrapped his arms around himself. "I don't know what took him today to do that to me. Beyond the disgust, it surprised me from someone who is usually as calm, almost taciturn, as him."

"That's… disgustin'." Lucien turned to face his lover. "We gotta tell the Admin, let her fire him and get him replaced." Sniper said.

"Non, Mundy, please!"

"No!" Sniper exclaimed. "He forced you into something that's not on the contract and not right. Ok, it was just a kiss for show but… Hold on," Sniper closed the gap between them and held Spy's head between his palms, inspecting him. "He didn't put his tongue in, did he? Bugger, I'll make his bloody skull pop in goddamn confetti…! C'mere, Lu'..."

Sniper wrapped his arms around Spy and kept him close in a dear embrace.

"I'm sorry, luv'." Lucien removed his mask and Mundy slid his fingers in his hair to comfort him.

"So am I." Lucien answered, burying his head deeper in Sniper's chest. "I am terribly sorry, disgusted and distraught."

"I'm sorry I just saw you and him together and I assumed you just… Ugh, doesn't matter." Sniper tightened his hug. "I'm with you now, and you're safe."

"Thank you… So much…" Lucien clawed in his lover.

"It's fine, it's ok, we're gon-"

A knock at the door interrupted them.

"Wear your mask, luv'." Spy smiled at the sweet name. Sniper handed it to him and stood between the door and his lover. Spy slipped it on quickly. "You ready?"

"Oui, merci."

[Yes, thanks.]

Sniper opened the door. No one.

"Hey there, pardner."

"Oh?" Sniper's eyes went down and he saw his Texan colleague. "Hey, mate."

"Sorry to bother you. We received a message from the Admin. She said we're on a cease-fire for a week." Engineer explained. "It got announced during dinner but you and Spy weren't here. By the way, do you know where he is? I knocked at his door but he didn't answer."

"I am here." Spy emerged from the shadows and went by Sniper's side. "Did she explain why this sudden decision?"

"Apparently, it's got to do with replacin' someone who didn't play by their contract on the opposite team." Engie answered.

Sniper and Spy exchanged a glance.

"I see. Thank you, labourer."

"No problem. Have a nice evenin', fellas." The Texan went away and Sniper shut the door of his van.

"So, turns out we didn't even have to do anythin', eh."

"Oui, it seems so."

Both sat on the small couch.

"Lu'...?"

"Oui?"

Mundy took Lucien's hand in both of his and removed the glove before caressing it gently.

"I'm sorry for what happened. If you wanna, y'know, talk about it or…"

Lucien chuckled.

"I am more affected by the consequences it had on us than the actual act itself. A kiss from someone is rarely a bad experience. But this wasn't a kiss. It was a show of animalistic dominance urged by a will to humiliate me. Bah, I have seen my fair share and will manage to sleep at night. Non, the issue is that you took it the wrong way and you thought that my feelings for you were not sincere."

"Sorry about it…"

"It is fine. The main thing is that you now know and understand what happened. I care very little about the rest." Lucien answered and leaned his head on Mundy's shoulder.

They laced their fingers together and stayed there for a while. The van was narrow, but it made it cosy. Mundy's voice broke the periodic sound of their breaths.

"Lu'?"

"Oui?"

"So uh… You still love me, right?"

Lucien smiled and raised his head to his lover.

"Of course I do. I love you more than any man before."

"You sure?"

"Oui."

"There wasn't any part of you that… Y'know… Kinda liked it with the other Sniper?"

Lucien chuckled.

"Absolutely not. If anything, I lost all respect for him. It is a good thing that he got fired."

"Yeah…"

"Mundy?"

"Mh?"

"I love you."

Mundy smiled and pulled Lucien to him.

"I love you too. And I missed you."

They hugged as if they hadn't seen each other for years.

"I missed you too." Lucien answered. "I missed you and you-"

The noise of Mundy's stomach growling cut Lucien's sentence sharp.

"S-sorry. I haven't eaten a thing."

"Neither have I. Come, we will prepare some dinner."

Lucien stood up and was about to slip his mask on when Mundy got to his feet in a flash and held his wrist away. He dived straight for the Frenchman's lips and pulled his waist strongly.

"I love you, Lu'."

"Mh… So do I. Now, let us go before your stomach screams again, hm?"

"Right. But please cook somethin' edible this time."

Lucien slipped on the mask and his eyes snapped wide.

"Pardon?!" He asked in his mother tongue. "When have I ever cooked something that wasn't?"

Mundy grabbed his hat and both exited the van.

"Remember the snails?" He went on teasing his lover.

"They were exquisite. Your palate was just not ready for such refinement."

"My palate wasn't ready?! What kind of nonsense is that?! You just cooked bloody snails as if we had nothing else to eat!"

"I beg to differ, Mundy! Not only did we have other things to eat but it is a delicacy!"

They entered the base and crossed the corridor still bickering. From the living room, some of the other mercs heard them.

"Guess Spy and Sniper made it up, huh?" Engie said and Pyro clapped his hands enthusiastically.

"Aye, seems like it, lad." Demo added before taking a swig of his scrumpy.

Scout raised a curious eyebrow. He wanted to see it for himself. So without adding a word, he rose from the sofa and peeked through the door.

"Ew!" He jumped back in the living room and resumed his seat on the sofa.

"What is it, son?" Engie asked.

"Go and see for yourself, ew!"

Engie frowned and went to peek through the door. He smiled and tried to make his chuckle as silent as possible. From there, he could see in the dark corridor a man in a suit pressed against a door by a man taller than him and wearing a hat. Their shadows were one.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #dontneedavalentine2021

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sardinesandhumbugs · 3 years ago

Note

(a-place-to-come-back-to) hmmm “You can keep pretending, but you’ll never be happy” gives me Badger Rat Sr and Toad Sr vibes

A/N: Thank you for the prompt! This ficlet is set fairly early into Badger's friendship with Rat Sr and Toad Sr, before things settled into the easy friendship he remembers. Even the best of friendships can have... bumpy origins :D

Want to request a prompt? Find the list here!

Rat considered himself a fairly laid back sort of animal (a necessary trait for growing up alongside the undaunted Toad) but even he had second (not to mention first) thoughts when it came to the Wild Wood.

He was sure most of the rumours were merely malicious hearsay (for instance, he was fairly certain the locals didn't eat wayward Riverbankers) but he doubted any animal – Wild Wooder or no – would take kindly to the disturbance. For, upon the rusted bell-pull detaching (the bell itself had given one dull toll before giving up the ghost) Toad had set to hammering and hollering at the unadorned door with the kind of volume that would wake the dead – and, more importantly, the living, who were far more likely to take matters into their own paws.

"Honestly, I don't know how he ever entertains guests," Toad lamented in a rare lapse in the cacophony. "Can barely find the blasted place and then when you do you don't realise it. You'd think an animal like Badger would clear the ivy from the name plate once in a while or make sure his bell is in working order. Any lesser animal visiting would have admitted defeat by now," he said, as usual looking but not truly seeing.

"Perhaps we should reconsider this," Rat said, who had taken good note of the state of disrepair of Badger's front porch and come to a bleak conclusion of his own. "He may not even be home."

"Oh pooh to that, of course he's home. Anyway, Rat, it was you who took note of his recent change in mood."

"And I was thinking of a subtler approach."

"You say subtler, I say slower." Evidently deciding that his knocking was falling into the subtle category, Toad added his raised voice to the mix. "Come along, Badge; who cares what the hares say? Be the bigger animal we know you are and come on out!"

"Badge?" Rat echoed.

Toad shrugged. "I'm trying it out. 'Badger' is such a mouthful."

"It's two syllables."

"And I'm halving that. It's called efficiency. BADGE!" Rat jumped at the brusque rise in volume. "Badger, we know you're there! What do you think you're achieving with this hiding away, huh? Do you think this is what you want? To live alone in a dark and dingy tunnel all your life? We know you, Badge! You can keep pretending, but you'll never be happy like this!"

The door swung open so abruptly that Badger must have already been standing on the other side for some time. He loomed over the two Riverbankers, his face half cast in shadow from the wood's gloom. "You know nothing about me," he growled.

"Oh, we know plenty," Toad contradicted happily. He took advantage of Badger's oversight in opening the door, and slipped past the larger animal. "Such as the state you leave your front porch in. Where should I put the bell-pull? Oh, no matter; I'll send for a new one when I'm back at Toad Hall."

Badger glowered, but could do little about Toad's entrance without hauling him bodily out, and turned back to the remaining Riverbanker on his doorstep. "I suppose," he intoned, "you plan on following your friend inside."

It was at this point that Rat realised there was at least a yard's grace between them – if not more – that had been of his own making. He shortened it, knowing full well that his instinctive retreat had not gone unnoticed. "Badger–"

"Just get yourself inside before your tail freezes off."

Rat scurried in. As Badger hauled the door shut, the brumal weather outside lost its icy grip and the beneath-ground air yielded a steady, heavy warmth quite unlike Riverbank homes in winter. (Toad Hall suffered particularly badly in the yuletide season, saved only by the ludicrous expense Toad went to keep such a grand house heated.)

Up ahead, Toad had already started scoping out the elusive sett that paid host to so few animals. "I say, Badge," he called, his voice echoing in such a manner to indicate he had put quite the distance between them, "I take back what I said earlier; dark this place may be, but dingy it most certainly is not."

Rat followed Badger through the dimly-lit tunnels, passing through decreasingly lived-in rooms until finally coming to the cause of Toad's admiration. It was, Rat had to admit, grand. Ancient columns, half buried into the walls, lined the room that could fit Toad Hall's ballroom with ease, and Toad was already setting to lighting the lanterns to better appraise the space.

"Badge, you never said you had a place like this!" Toad exclaimed. "Why, just think of the balls, the banquets, that could be hosted in a space such as this! I admit, the acoustics are a little harsh, but I have just the tapestries to dampen the sound, and with a spot of extra light it'd be perfect!"

Rat glanced to Badger out of the corner of his eye and read the larger animal's stony expression.

"I apologise. Toad means well, but he puts far too much stock in the art of distraction as a solution," he muttered. He inclined his head. "Mind you, he often gripes that I'd try to talk the river out of flooding if I could, so I suspect we even each other out."

"I prefer action, myself," Badger grumbled.

They watched a moment longer as Toad bounced across the empty space, chattering to nobody about the grand plans he could see strewn out before him. ("Naturally, this is where the band would go... and the buffet would sit along here, I'm thinking cold meats, cheeses; the last thing you want is the smell of cooked food suffocating a place like this...")

"I can probably talk him out of it," Rat offered quietly, "if you'd like."

Badger scoffed and retreated into the more inhabited rooms. "He can organise as many damn parties as he likes, so long as he doesn't come complaining to me when no animal arrives."

Rat had to take two quick steps for every one of Badger's long strides, eager to stay in the pool of light cast by Badger's lantern. "Oh, I think you underestimate Toad – he has quite a way with folk when he sets his mind to it. It can be both very useful and infuriating."

"I'm sure he does," Badger said, "but what possible reason could he tempt animals down to a place like this with?"

"Good food, good music," Rat rattled off. "Drink. Conversation. Gossip, usually." He hesitated, and added, "Curiosity."

"And is that why you came?"

"We came," and Rat hurried so that he and his words would not be left behind, "because we were worried about you."

Badger halted so abruptly that Rat had to skip a step back to avoid walking into him. "Worried?" he echoed incredulously. "About me?"

"Is that really so hard to believe?" Rat hastened on before Badger could remark upon Toad's distraction. "I'm sorry if we pressured you into joining us for the harvest festival; Toad's so extraverted that I think he forgets not everyone is, and I... well, I thought you might enjoy it. I hadn't realised that, being a born and bred Riverbanker, I might not have seen... some of the more insensitive sides of the other animals."

Badger met Rat's gaze with an expression Rat couldn't quite decipher. "So you heard what was being said?"

"I heard enough."

An odd choice indeed, the whispers had gone as Toad's newest friend had made his social debut, but, then again, toads are an odd bunch anyway, almost as odd as badgers are solitary, and that's just a fact.

Unusual to see a badger out of the Wild Woods, more unusual still to see one in the company of animals other than their own kind.

It probably won't last.

Everyone knows what they say about badgers changing their stripes.

"And then, when we didn't see you for a week, of course we worried," Rat said, trying to turn the conversation round to matters he could control. "We wanted to make sure you were alright."

Badger scoffed again and turned down a corridor that opened out into a fire-lit kitchen. "And why would you care?"

"We care because we're your friends."

Badger turned on his heel. "Are you?"

Too late, Rat realised he'd flinched back, that same instinctive wariness springing up around a mammal so much larger than himself. Around a mammal that was possibly more Wild Wood than Undergrounder, and he didn't want to find out which side was dominant.

Badger's gaze moved derisively over the sudden space between them. "That's what I thought," he growled. "I'm not a charity case and I'm not a curiosity, and you'd do well to learn that."

"Was he wrong?"

Badger faltered, if only for a moment. "What?"

"Toad," Rat said, clinging onto the single truth that had propelled him this far. "Was he wrong? Are you happy here?"

"I am... accustomed to things the way they are," Badger replied.

"Are you happy?" Rat persisted. "If you are, then we'll get out of your fur. I'll find a way to drag Toad out of his harebrained schemes, and things can go back to the way they were. But... if you're not – if you have enjoyed the past few months with – with us – then let us stay."

The silence lingered for just a heartbeat too long.

Badger turned away. "I'm fine. I always am."

"I asked if you are happy, not fine," Rat amended. He watched as Badger took a seat at the tired armchair at the head of the kitchen table, and Rat cautiously drew up a chair a little further down. For not the first time – albeit perhaps not as acutely as now – he wondered just how Badger had come to be alone in this sett built for generations. There had certainly always been badgers here, but Rat had paid them little heed before now, for they were a reclusive species and generally kept to their own kin and everyone was happy with that.

He winced.

There it was again, that assumption.

It was the same assumption that had led to such obtuse remarks at the harvest festival and, indeed, Rat could not honestly deny that even he had expected Toad's newest acquaintance to be a passing fad at first. (Toad had a way with folk that rendered many friendships forged but rarely followed-up, and Rat had originally been comfortable with the assumption that Badger would be another such encounter.)

"You know," Rat said, pushing such thoughts aside, "Toad and I didn't – actually, don't, present tense – always get along." He pulled the chair a smidgen closer to the table, settling it with the overt intent to stay. "He reacts a little too impulsively, and I perhaps too little, and we clash as often as we agree." Badger didn't respond, and Rat figured this was as close to permission to continue as he was going to get. "We argued over coming here, in fact." He snorted. "Toad won, of course and I'm – well, I'm glad he did."

"Why are you here, Rat?"

Rat startled at the question he'd thought already answered. "I told you, because you're–"

"Truly. No saccharine sentiments."

Rat faltered, the easy platitude taken from him. In the space he took to consider, a clock tolled somewhere deep in the sett. "I suppose," he started slowly, "it's because I think we could be friends. If we wanted to. If we tried. And because I think, however much you protest, maybe you want that too."

A/N: The inspiration for this piece was Vienna Teng's Stray Italian Greyhound song which is technically about learning to fall in love for the first time, but I like interpreting it in a learning to trust a friendship for the first time way. (Especially in Badger's case for this, realising oopsie I caught platonic feels and life was so much easier before, not sure if I hate or love this.) If you want some added feels for this fic, go look up that song ;)

#cat writes #the dad trio #wind in the willows musical #witw fanfic #the point where I realise I'm writing badger based partially on the 1995 animated badger as much as the musical #anyway rat sr and badger went onto be possibly closer friends than rat sr and toad sr #but eh the course of (platonic) love never did run smooth #ehhh I was planning this to be about Badger's feelings on the subject #but started out from rat sr's POV so that didn't exactly work out #basically badger has always been pretty good at ignoring what Society says #and he's resigned himself to the fact that toad's unexpected friendship is just a fad #a 'let's befriend the badger' kinda novelty #and that once it wears off then toad sr will move on #and then badger went 'shit I actually like this friendship and now i'm worried about when the rejection eventually happens'#so decided to cut the cord himself #not expecting rat sr and toad sr to refuse to let him retreat into himself like that #this is the point where rat sr moved away from the assumption that he and badger were tied together simply because they were both #friends with toad sr #and instead starts actively considering badger his friend #not because he didn't like badger before then #but you have that weird 'two people friends with the same person trying to figure out where they stand' vibe going on

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thejollyroger-writer · 4 years ago

Text

One for the Books (1/1)

SUMMARY: Killian Jones is a grad student who works for the Storybrooke University Library. He's searching for some lost books, last checked out by the elusive Teaching Assistant Emma Swan -- and when he goes to find them, he finds a lot more than he bargained for.

Rated G // 5.6k // on AO3

Thanks to @shireness-says for always cheering me on

Some interested folks: @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @thisonesatellite @scientificapricot @ohmightydevviepuu @pepperspotts @resident-of-storybrooke @teamhook @ultraluckycatnd

-- -- --

to: [email protected]

from: [email protected]

August 20 10:14am

Dear Miss Swan,

I hope this email finds you well. My name is Killian Jones, and I am the new records and collections graduate assistant for the Storybrooke University Library. I am writing to you today because, according to our records, there are quite a few volumes from our library that you have borrowed and never returned. You will, of course, not be fined for these items; I am simply reaching out to make sure that they are still in your possession, and to ask that you kindly bring them to the library to return or renew as necessary. The list of items is as follows:

Freud, Sigmund. The Standard Edition of Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, 1953, Volume I.

Freud, Sigmund. The Standard Edition of Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, 1953, Volume IV.

Freud, Sigmund. The Standard Edition of Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, 1953, Volume VII.

Freud, Sigmund. The Standard Edition of Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, 1953, Volume X.

Freud, Sigmund. The Standard Edition of Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, 1953, Volume XXI.

Freud, Sigmund. The Standard Edition of Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, 1953, Volume XXIII.

Leuven University Press, Sexuality and Psychoanalysis: Philosophical Criticisms, 2010.

Moore, Burness E. Psychoanalysis: The Major Concepts, 1995.

If you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to reach out to me in any of the ways listed below.

Thank you,

Killian Jones,

Records and Collections, Storybrooke University

Gold Library, rm. 120A // 545-1212

to: [email protected]

from: [email protected]

September 23 2:46 pm

Dear Miss Swan,

I hope the first few weeks of the semester have gone well for you. I am following up with my previous email, where I sent a list of volumes from our university library that have been checked out under your name. We now have a graduate student writing on psychoanalysis and he is hoping to utilize a few of the volumes you have checked out over the next few weeks. If you would be able to return these items to the library at your earliest convenience, we would greatly appreciate it; even if they have been misplaced, we would still like for you to come and fill out the paperwork so this student can request them from another library. I am in my office every day from 8-3 for you to do this, or I could send you the form for you to print and return. Again, if you have any questions, please reach out.

Thank you,

Killian Jones

Records and Collections, Storybrooke University

Gold Library, rm. 120A // 545-1212

to: [email protected]

from: [email protected]

September 29 8:36 am

Miss Swan,

I am writing once again to inquire about the Freud volumes checked out of the library under your name. Since there is a graduate student waiting for them, and since we are unable to request copies from another library until they are officially marked as missing, I would appreciate your response in regards to these items. If it would be easiest for you, I will gladly come to your office to retrieve them.

Killian Jones

Records and Collections, Storybrooke University

Gold Library, rm. 120A // 545-1212

Killian slams his laptop shut with a huff, then runs his fingers through his hair. “This damned psychology professor,” he mumbles, though he realizes when he hears Dr. French’s laugh coming from her office that the door between them is wide open.

Oops.

“She’s not a professor, you know."

"Pardon?" he asks, mostly because the humming of his mind was much louder than his advisor's comment.

"Emma Swan," Belle says, and Killian leans back in his chair so he can see her. "She's not a professor. She's a TA for Dr. Hopper."

"A TA should still know to respond to emails and return books to the library."

Belle laughs again. "Well, you're not wrong."

"So what do you suggest our next move is?"

Belle pushes her chair away from her desk and steps out into the open area where Killian's desk resides, then leans against the doorframe. "If we didn't have a grad student looking for them, I’d say just let it go. But for the sake of Mr. Mills, might I suggest visiting her office during her posted office hours?”

This is just about the very last thing Killian wants to do, despite offering to pick the books up in his last email. If she wasn't watching him, if she was still sitting in her office, he would have held his head in his hands, wishing for any other option. Six years in the naval reserve he can handle, but trying to get books from enthusiastic academics? He does a much better job with his head buried behind the computer screen, politely (or, if the case requires, slightly passive-aggressively) asking them to return books or to come talk to Belle.

But he knows he can't get out of this one, not when there's a bright lad like Henry Mills relying on him. “When? It’s been a month since the first email, and almost a week since the second.”

Belle squints her eyes to look at the calendar hanging behind him. “Today is what, Tuesday? If she doesn’t get back to you by Monday, I would go to her first office hours of the week. Those usually have fewer students.”

He just nods, but when she returns to her office, he does hide his face in his hands.

The days pass like calendar pages flying off, cartoonishly, all with no response from the elusive Emma Swan. Every time he hears the ping of his email notification, he hopes it is a response from her, stopping him from the embarrassment he knows will ensue on Monday morning, at her 10:00 office hour.

But alas, Monday comes with no response from her, and he tries to hold his head high and he knocks on the door to her office.

He doesn’t know what he expects to find on the other side of her door, but the bright green eyes and high golden ponytail is certainly not it. He had a whole speech in his head, practiced while driving and in the shower, demanding the Freud volumes back for the sake of Mr. Mills — but the face that greets him erases all of his carefully-practiced words in one fell swoop.

Absolutely speechless.

A few moments pass without him uttering a word, after which she raises a single, perfect eyebrow at him. “Can I help you?”

He clears his throat, trying to put some of the confidence back in his posture — and trying to slow the quickening pace of his heart, even as he feels it in his throat. “Yes. Uh, hi. You don't know me, but I’m Killian Jones, from the—”

She cuts him off with a breath of a laugh and a hand held up between them. “You’re from the library.” It's not a question, but he nods anyway. “You’re here for Freud.”

His confidence deflates. “Uh, yeah,” he mutters.

She cocks her head to the side. "You're older than I expected."

Now he is dumbstruck once again. Absolutely speechless, save the weak "Pardon?" that comes out as barely more than an exhale.

But she ignores him, turning away from him, though she leaves the door to her office wide open behind her, so he steps through it and into her small space. The entire room is lined with bookshelves save the space that her small desk takes up and the two filing cabinets beside it.

He realizes in this moment, watching her scan her shelves for the missing items, why he is suddenly so tongue-tied, why his practiced speech flew out the metaphoric window the moment she opened her office door: she's beautiful, without a doubt the most gorgeous woman he's ever seen, from her shining emerald eyes to the confidence that seems to exude from her very being, attractive in ways beyond the physical, ways that he can not even begin to explain.

"I really appreciate your coming all the way across campus to find these," she says, starting to pull books off one of the higher shelves. "I've been out the past two weeks at a couple conferences, and I forwarded the list of items to a friend of mine in hopes that he could come and pick them up, but it appears he's as bad at doing favors as he is in bed."

Killian feels the tips of his ears turning red even as she immediately spins on her heel, covering her face with her free hand.

"Oh my god," she mutters. "I'm — I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to say that out loud."

Killian does the only thing his body allows him to and laughs, though every neuron in his brain screams at him to stop.

Thankfully, she joins in, and for a moment, he can swear that her smile actually brightens her dark office, that her laugh brightens his dark life.

"Neal Cassidy, ladies and gentlemen," she says between laughs, which only causes them to laugh harder. "Altogether grossly incompetent."

Killian is glad he's never heard of this man before; he's not sure how he would have handled it if he had.

"Anyway," she says after taking a few deep breaths to try to calm herself. She turns back to the bookshelf to add a few more items to the pile in her arm, but one of them almost falls to the ground. It happens in a flash, really: Killian rushes to try to catch it, though the pile in her arms also begins to topple, and his ankle catches hers as she tries to stop the books from falling — and just like that, they're both on the floor, surrounded by volumes of Freud's Complete Works, Standard Edition.

"Sorry," he mumbles, reaching towards the book that is closest to him only to find that it's one titled Sexuality and Psychoanalysis.

The irony of it doesn't stop his embarrassment from reddening his cheeks once more.

"What the hell is happening in here?" another voice asks, and they both realize there's someone standing in the doorway to her office. "Ems, who is this guy?"

"Oh my god," Emma mutters, moving onto her knees, and he uses the bookshelf to quickly pull himself up so he can help her to her feet. "What do you want, Neal?" she asks, avoiding his question entirely.

Neal? Killian wonders if it's the same Neal she mentioned before, but he pushes the thought away when he finds himself wondering just how good in bed this man can be by the looks of him.

(A bit Freudian? He would say so.)

"I just wanted to bring you some coffee," he says, a hint of anger in his voice as he holds up one of the to-go cups he is holding. "Only to find you on the floor of your office with some guy."

Killian is suddenly overcome with an unexplainable anger, something he knows he has been trained to repress — but here, he feels incapable.

Thankfully, Emma speaks first, crossing her arms over her chest, and he takes the time she uses to speak to calm himself, seeing that she is fully capable of handling her own battles. "I've told you so many times, Neal, I don't even drink coffee. And not that I have to explain myself to you, but it was an accident. I dropped some books and…” She falters, realizing she never learned his name, but continues past it: “... he was just helping me pick them up, which wouldn't have been necessary had you come to my office last week and taken them to the library like I asked."

(That answers that question, he thinks; then, My God, I have to get out of here.)

"I really should go," Killian mutters, his anger replaced with embarrassment, and he focuses his energy on picking up the books from the floor, trying to wish the obvious signs of embarrassment off of his face.

"Yeah, you should," Neal spits.

Killian would swear, looking back on this moment, that he could feel Emma's anger in this moment, swelling like a balloon and filling her small office, almost radiating off of her.

"No, Neal," she says, crossing the space between herself and the door before pushing her hands against his chest and expelling him into the hallway. "You should leave."

And then she slams the door in his face.

A beat passes, Killian focused on the rise and fall of Emma's shoulders, though she is still facing the door. When she turns around, there is a smile plastered across her face, but he also notices the shine of held-back tears in her eyes.

"Sorry," she mumbles, and Killian struggles to find a way to change the subject to anything except what he just witnessed, but finds himself unable to speak once more. "It's just — he's…" She takes a breath, sitting down on the extra chair opposite the one behind her desk, and she hangs her head. "This whole thing was a mistake, really." For a moment, Killian thinks she's talking about him, his stomach turning violently with the thought that something he did caused this goddess this much pain — but then she continues. "I never should have… when I met him at the bar, I didn't even think that he could work at the university, even if he works for maintenance. I'm usually much smarter than that, I swear, but it was the beginning of summer and most of the students were gone and I finally had some free time to myself, so I just wanted to—"

She turns her eyes up at him, the moisture that's filled them threatening to run down her cheeks, but he's in the seat across from her in an instant, his own hand reaching out to cover hers. He's terrified, afraid that he's made the wrong move — that he's no different than the asshole she just had to kick out of her office.

But then she smiles.

"You don't have to tell me this if you don't want to," he says, the words as soft and honest as he is able to make them.

He only hopes it's enough.

She nods, pulling her hand away from his to wipe the bottom of her eyelids, and the last thing he expects is for her to return her hand to his — but that's exactly what she does, and he can swear his heart does a little happy dance against his ribs. "Oh my god, this is so embarrassing," she says softy, smiling down at where their hands are touching on the desk. Killian shakes his head in disagreement, but she doesn't see it, shaking away another soft, embarrassed smile. "And Freud thought the women he saw were crazy."

For what feels like the millionth time since he knocked on the door to her office mere minutes ago, he has absolutely no clue how to read her.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go?" he asks, though he immediately regrets it, watching her face fall.

"If that's what you want…" she says, letting her words fade before finishing the thought.

No, he realizes, and the thought rejuvenates him; he sits up straighter, he can feel his blood flow faster, can feel his heart pound with a little more confidence.

(Christ, Jones, heartbeats don't have confidence.)

"That's not what I want."

"Good," she whispers, the smile returning to her face. “Because he might — knowing him, he’ll probably come back, and I don’t really want to deal with that quite yet.”

“Well, I’ll just stay here until you feel comfortable again.”

“Thanks.”

A beat passes, and Killian realizes for the first time just how awkward this whole situation is. Thankfully, Emma seems to be much better at small talk than he is:

“So, tell me something about yourself…” She trails off again, and this time, Killian offers her his name.

“Killian. Jones.” She nods, a soft smile spreading across her face, and he continues. “But I’m, uh, just starting the lib sci grad program, and I came here since my brother knows Belle pretty well.”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” she mumbles, looking up from the desk that sits between them. “You look a little old for a first-year grad student.”

“That’s not technically a question, love,” he jokes. “But yeah, you’re right. I’m not technically what they call a traditional student. I got my bachelor’s all over the world in the naval reserves, but decided to settle down for my masters.”

She huffs out a laugh. “In Storybrooke?”

“There’s a base not too far from here where my brother works. I was done with traveling, done with the hustle and bustle of cities, and this just seemed like the perfect place for me to be.” She hums. “What about you, Swan?”

She shrugs, and for a moment, Killian thinks this is going to be her only response. The silence of the room becomes deafening for one — two — three beats of his heart, but then she opens her mouth to speak. “I never had any roots, and I just wound up in Storybrooke. College was the first time I was able to make decisions for myself, and I just… Stuck around, I guess. I changed my major three times, got two master’s degrees, and I think Archie — I mean, Dr. Hopper’s going to keep me here once I get my PhD.” She sighs. “Sorry, that was a lot.”

“Well, I mean, we are stuck here.”

She laughs, but another silence fills the small office. This one lasts longer than the last, Emma even going so far as to chew on the cuticle of her thumb, her gaze traveling around the room instead of looking at him.

Killian, for some reason, can only think of the man that they’re in this situation because of — Neal. He knows that different people are attracted to different things, and he… Well, with no better way to think of it, he could think of nothing about the man they saw that was even slightly attractive. Sandy brown hair, average build, average… Average everything, really.

“Can I ask you something?” he says, not even meaning to break the silence around them.

She hums, though her attention still seems to be outside the small window behind him.

“Why him?”

“What?” She sounds angry, but also something else. Killian kind of believes it’s humored. He hopes it’s humored.

“That guy. Neal? He’s — well, not to be crass, love, but he seems like he’s kind of a bastard.”

She laughs. Not just a huff, not just a breath, but a real, straight-from-the-belly laugh. And it lasts for a while, longer than Killian feels like it should have, though he’s certainly not complaining. It’s a beautiful sound, a lovely sound, a sound that (almost literally) brings light to his life. Nothing bad can happen when that sound is around him.

(Christ, Killian, pull yourself together.)

“Damned if I know.”

“Well, what do you look for in a guy?” he asks, not even meaning for it to sound as… well, as desperate as he realizes it does.

“Why?” she laughs. “Are you interested?”

Shit. He already feels the tips of his ears reddening, his cheeks growing warm with embarrassment that he has no defense against. "Uh, I mean—" he tries, and he could swear that his chest is radiating heat. "That's not — I didn't—" he stammers, and she laughs again. Sure, he's an absolute idiot, no way to hide his embarrassment from the beautiful woman sitting across the desk from him, but just hearing the sound of her laugh again makes him feel better, even if it is at his own expense.

"Relax," she says, reaching out to touch his hand again, and she offers him a soft smile. "Besides, there really isn't any rhyme or reason to it anyway." He has just started to relax, his heart pounding a little lighter and his body temperature returning to a normal number, when she asks, "Why, what about you, Jones? What do you look for in a woman?"

Beautiful, brilliant blonde goddesses like yourself, he thinks.

For what he could swear is the longest moment of his life, he's unsure of whether he only thought it or not.

And then, she's leaning across the desk, her hand wrapping around the back of his neck to pull his lips to meet hers.

It's far from his first kiss; he's been in the company of enough women to know his way around one. But for some reason, this moment, this woman in particular, catches him off-guard, and he is only able to focus on the soft warmth of her, the feel of her lips against his and her hand on the back of his neck, her fingers sliding up into the longer hair at the base of his neck. He's frozen, unable to respond in any way beyond simply opening his lips slightly to her —

Until he pulls away, cursing himself even as he does it, especially once he sees the terror in her shining green eyes, so obviously wondering if she has done something wrong.

"I, uh… thanks," he stutters, running his fingers through his hair as he jumps up from her desk chair. "I, uh, I really have to go."

As quickly as he is able, he removes himself from her office, though he shows enough self-restraint to not take off down the hallway at a full sprint even though it is what every bone in his body wants him to do.

It’s not until he’s out of the building that he takes a moment to slow down and really realize what he has just done, ifsting his hair with both of his hands.

“Oh, Killian, you absolute idiot!”

He wants to scream, and if he weren’t surrounded by undergrads who he knows are already judging him, he just might.

An idiot. An absolute dunce. Why did it have to be this week that Liam is training in Rhode Island? Why now, when the thing Killian needs the most is advice from his older brother?

Okay, not most; the thing he needs most is to go back a mere minute and not run away from the girl who kissed him.

But he can’t do that. And even just walking back up to her office would be too embarrassing, too much for him. So he does the only thing he can do, and continues down the sidewalk and back to the library.

(It’s not until he’s back in his office, with Belle eyeing him questionably, that he realizes he came back empty-handed.)

She spends most of the afternoon wondering what to do. She knows she acted out of turn, knows she made a mistake, but there was just something about him, not an innocence, per se, but something… different. Something that sets him apart from most, if not all, of the men she finds herself in the company of.

For one, he didn’t seem like a total idiot, unlike the majority of men whose beds she tended to find herself in. Even in the little time she spent with him, she could tell that he was different, and she liked it. She liked that he saw her as a person, with a brain and a personality, and not just as body parts, not just as a vessel that could provide pleasure. Even the men she meets at conferences have all been assholes, men like Walsh ___ who feignd interest in her presentation just to come waltzing up to her afterward and ask her to dinner — which he just talked through, barely giving her a chance to speak.

But Killian, from what she could tell, is nothing like Walsh. Or like Neal, who keeps ignoring her refusals and turning up at her office. (She’s glad she went back to his apartment and not the other way around, because she fears what he may have done had he known where she lived.)

Killian, who came all the way across campus to retrieve books from her office, agreed to stay to keep her company, and then she kissed. Like an idiot. She saw the way he got flustered when she started to flirt with him and it got to her. Was it an overreaction? Maybe. But there were definitely alternatives to taking that sort of action against someone whose shyness was apparent all morning.

She gets nothing done for the rest of the day. The piles of ungraded papers that cover her desk taunt her, but every time she picks up her pen and starts to read, her mind begins to wander immediately — to Killian, to his response to her. Wondering if she made a mistake that she can never fix. Wondering if he is sitting in his office, unable to work, only able to think about her. (Maybe even hoping for this one?)

The screensaver on her desktop tells her it’s 2:23. Literal hours have passed since Killian left, and she has accomplished nothing.

Tapping her password out on the keyboard, she pulls up her university email and types his name in the search box, hoping that one of his previous emails answers her question. She vaguely remembers seeing the hours he’s in his office in one of them, she just needs to figure out which one.

Bingo.

“8-3,” she says to her empty office. She should stay, should at least try to accomplish something after being gone for almost two weeks, but she knows it is useless. So she grabs her red leather jacket off the back of her chair, locks her office door behind her, and makes her way out of the building.

(When she gets to the steps, she realizes she has left the library books behind, just as Killian had when he left earlier that day. With a huff, she turns around, stuffs them in one of her tote bags, and leaves her office once more.)

Pushing through the library doors, she realizes that she’s been at this university for upwards of ten years, and never learned where the Records and Collections Office is. She knows Killian included his office number in his signature, but finding that would take more time than she wants to spend, so she approaches the desk.

“Can I help you?” The student who sits behind the desk catches her attention for a moment, a tall male, probably in his mid-20’s, with blond hair with a pink tinge to it, wearing a dark purple satin shirt and matching purple eyeliner in perfect, identical wings. His name tag reads Tyler.

“Uh, yeah,” she says, hoisting the canvas bag higher on her shoulder. “I’m looking for the Records and Collections Office?”

He offers her a smile. “Sure! Room 120. Up the stairs, to the left, all the way down.”

She returns his smile, doing her best not to just run off to find what she came here for. “Thanks.”

The room that houses the main collection seems much larger than the open area that fills the same space the floor below it, and with every shelf she passes, she feels like three more come into view. But, finally, a row of doors come into view, with the words “RECORDS AND COLLECTIONS” hanging on the wall above them.

119. 121.

Didn’t Tyler say 120?

She tries 121, knocking softly though the door is wide open. She is greeted by a younger girl, most likely an undergrad, with one side of her head shaved and the rest of it pulled into a braid that hangs over her shoulder. “What can I do for you?”

“Uh, I’m looking for Killian Jones? I thought they said it wa room 120, but—”

“Yeah, they can’t seem to number rooms in a way that makes sense around here. You have to go through room 119 to find Killian and Dr. French. I don't think Zoe's in her office, so room 119 should be empty."

"Thanks."

Room 119 is, in fact, empty, but the door inside, the one with Killian's name on it, is closed.

She takes a deep breath, hoisting the bag of books up again, and knocks on the door. She wonders if this is how Killian felt knocking on her door that morning, with her heart pounding in her throat. Probably not, she tells herself, breathing out a laugh to try to calm her nerves.

"Come in!" his voice calls, and she can feel her heartbeat in every cell of her body.

What the hell, Emma.

But when she grabs the door knob, she realizes that at least part of her nervousness is valid, because for all the time she spent sitting in her office thinking about their earlier interaction, she has given zero thought to what she's going to say to the man on the other side of the door.

Too late now.

Deep breath.

And she opens the door.

He looks as flustered as she feels, with his hair standing in all directions, as if he's been tugging at it and running his fingers through it. The thin-framed glasses perched on his nose just add to the ensemble, his bright blue eyes already wide through them, and they only widen more when he sees her standing in the doorway.

"Hey."

He blinks. Then again, as if trying to convince himself that she's really there. That may be exactly what he's doing. "Swan," he breathes, one corner of his lips ticking up in a smile. "Hi."

She holds up the bag full of books, offering him a small smile. "I think you're looking for these."

He returns the smile, but it disappears after just a moment. "Well, I thank you, love, but you didn't have to bring them all this way."

"It was the least I could do after all the trouble someone went through to pick them up this morning."

"You could have dropped them off downstairs."

It's now that she realizes that just because she wanted to see him again, he doesn't necessarily feel the same way, and that could explain his cold responses to her.

She lets her smile fall. "I could have."

"Why didn't you?" The question is simple enough, straight and to the point.

"Christ, Killian," she huffs, letting her anger get the best of her. "I didn't come here to return the books."

"Then why did you come?"

"I wanted to apologize," she says, dropping the bag of books on his desk — and when she opens her mouth to speak again, the words tumble out like a waterfall, unable to be stopped. "I could tell I made you uncomfortable and I've been sitting in my office all day, wishing I did something differently, but since I can't go back, I decided the least I could do to make up for it was to bring you these books and ask you if you wanted to go to dinner with me, but obviously you and I aren't on the same page, so—" She shrugs, throwing her arms in the air, and turns away from his desk.

There's a shuffle from behind her, but it's not until he says, "Yes! Yes, okay," that she turns back around, realizing that he's stood up.

"What?"

"Dinner. With — with you," he stammers. "That's — I want that."

Again, she just says, "What?" but this time it's paired with the beginnings of a smile.

"I've been thinking about what happened all day. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it, even with everything I was supposed to be doing."

She takes another step towards him, her smile growing. Finally, he returns it with one of his own. "Yeah?"

"Aye."

Rocking back on her heels, she looks down at her watch. "It's only 3:00."

He laughs, already seeming much more relaxed than he has been since she opened the door to his office. "I suppose it is.”

Their gazes meet for a moment. She raises her eyebrow. He clicks his tongue.

“I, uh, didn’t really eat lunch,” she says with a smile.

“Ah,” he replies, returning her smile as he scratches the back of his ear. “You see, I was also a little distracted, but I am almost off the clock.”

“Good,” she whispers, setting herself in the seat next to his door. “I’ll just wait.”

He nods, sitting back down in his office chair. He is able to check her books in, then sends an email to Henry Mills to tell him he can come get the books whenever — but he is more distracted by having her in his office than he was all day when she was just on his mind. After every few words, his attention leaves the computer screen and travels to where she is sitting, scrolling on her cell phone.

And every time he looks at her, he smiles.

It’s only a few minutes before he logs off his computer, accidentally startling her when he pushes his chair away from the desk.

“Sorry,” he mutters, pulling his jacket on over his sweater. “I’m ready now, though.”

Their first pizza date quickly becomes a regular occurence, sharing lunches in their offices on days they don’t go off campus. It’s two weeks before Killian is bothered they haven’t been on a “proper date,” and he picks her up from her apartment with flowers, which she keeps in a vase in her office.

But, most importantly, she never forgets to return a library book again — especially the next year, when she and Killian move into a small house near the campus.

Together.

#cs fics #captain swan #my writing #wordsbymeganmichael

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