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giggly-squiggily · 2 years ago

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BackFire! (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Okay so: Long story short- I lost the ask for this request. I don’t know if someone requested Lee!Yuji, LerGojo with this prompt in question, or I thought they did and mistook the entire request when it was actually something else. Either way- here we are! I hope y’all like it!

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps)

@cupcake-spice13, @duckymcdoorknob, @thatbigbisexual29,

Summary: Gojo is notorious for being a tickle monster. Maybe Yuji will have a shot when Megumi passes along some golden info.

Gojo was a notorious tickle monster.

He never failed to sneak up on his students when the day’s been long and no one was paying attention anymore. Whether it was quick little jabs to the belly or ribs, or even long standing tickle attacks during training, the white haired man always found a way to get some level of laughter by the end of the day.

Yuji truly didn’t mind it. He was one of those odd people (Nobara’s words, not his- though she said it fondly) that actually liked being tickled. He loved physical touch, and he loved to laugh. It was the best of both worlds- tickling. When they had downtime, he and Nobara would commence grand tickle wars over the weekend, sneaking up on one another or opting to destroy Megumi when he wasn’t paying attention. Of course, Gojo was 1000% down to play, so things were always fun.

Yuji loved it, but he was also rather curious.

Was Gojo-sensei even ticklish?

~~~

“Of course he isn’t. He’s Gojo!” Nobara replied when he asked the question out loud, the three sharing pizza in Megumi’s room. Without the post battle injuries, it was a lot more comfy. “He’s untouchable- I don’t think he can be ticklish.”

“That’s the thing! He makes it seem so, but he’s definitely got to be ticklish!” Yuji nodded firmly, refusing to back down on this. “Everyone’s got a tickle spot- even all powerful sorcerers!”

“Even if he does, how do you plan on finding it? You can’t exactly bum rush him, right?” Nobara waved her pizza as she emphasized her point. “He’s too clever, too fast, and from what you told me, he can freaking FLY!” She chewed in thought, humming. “Besides, we’ve tried tickling him before, remember? He got us back tenfold.”

“I’m pretty sure he was standing on the barrier...” Megumi’s voice was lost in their bickering.

“Yeah, and? That was what, one time? We went in blind with no plan. This time we have one! Kinda…” Yuji hummed, sitting back. “We just need some info. I bet Nanami can tell us something! You’ve been working with him lately, Nobara- maybe you can get some info out of him!”

“I can try- but he’s fairly tight lipped.” Nobara looked thoughtful herself. “Wait- why would Nanami know-”

“He’s ticklish.” Megumi cut in, finally getting their attention. “Gojo, I mean.”

“Shut up, no way!” Nobara gaped, nearly dropping her pizza. Yuji was all ears, leaning in.

“He is. When I was younger, before we met you two- I got him back one time.” Megumi told the story like an old man in his rocking chair, chewing on his pizza between statements as the two sat with full attention, invested. “He’ll never admit it, but he breaks rather easily when tickled.”

“Whoa…” Nobara and Yuji breathed, sharing a look. This would certainly turn the tide for them during tickle wars. “Well, where is it? Where’s this magic tickle spot?” Yuji asked, growing excited.

“I can’t tell you.” Megumi replied, making the other’s face fall. “It will only get you killed.”

“Doubt it. He’s built like an Ox.” Nobara nodded at Yuji, who flexed proudly in return.

“Not my point. You’d never get a good grip on it, even if you found it. He’s too fast, like Nobara said.” Megumi picked off the pepperoni, passing it along. “This is too greasy…”

“Come on, Megumi!” Yuji pleaded as Nobara took Megumi’s gift, nibbling on one. “You can’t just drop a bomb like that on us and expect nothing of it! I promise- if he asks who told him, I’ll lie and say I just felt like trying.”

“Or pin it on me. I’ll take the fall.” Nobara offered. “I wanna try it too, this elusive tickle spot.”

“He’ll know it’ll be me even if you lie. I’m the only one who knows.” Megumi glared before sighing, giving in. “But I guess he’d get me anyway. Fine, listen closely. I’m only gonna tell you once.”

~~~

“Hey there, Yuji! Gotta say, I’m surprised you want to spend your time off training with me.” Gojo grinned as he walked in the dorm’s shared training space. “I figured you’d want to spend it sleeping, or talking to cute girls.”

In a way- Yuji would have. Hadn’t he been gifted this goldmine of information hours earlier, he’d probably be fast asleep right now, dreaming of Jennifer Lawerence. “Eh, I just felt like it. Gotta keep in shape with all these curses running around!” He stretched his arms out as he spoke, putting on a big show of nonchalance.

“Fair, though I will say- I’m shocked you didn’t ask for Todo.” Gojo stretched himself, groaning some as his spine popped. “The guy’s more in tune with how your technique works, even with the whole ‘brother’ thing.”

“He’s busy.” Yuji smiled, subtly eyeing the other as Gojo got another stretch in. Middle of the ribs, exactly on the eighth rib. This was the golden spot, Megumi told him. The exact location to hit if Yuji wanted any chance of succeeding. “He’s good at what he does- plus you know how he gets about his Takada.”

Gojo hummed in agreement, shaking out his arms. “True. Alright- no complaints here; I’ll gladly help you. What shall get started?”

Yuji got into position, cracking his knuckles. “Lets.”

~~~

In hindsight, Yuji should have known better.

Charging his sensei, he put on a show with his best moves, sending a fairly dangerous combo of attacks that would have left a lesser man hospitalized. Gojo was dodging them like a ghost, floating out of reach every time. “Impressive! I just might have to get serious!” Gojo grinned as he evaded yet another powerful swing. “You're getting faster, but not quite fast enough.”

Yuji didn’t bother responding- too focused on the task at hand. On the surface, it seemed like Yuji’s goal was to beat the older man into submission with relentless combos and moves. However, if you were to pay close attention, you’d start to see a pattern in Yuji’s attacks.

With each new combo, he closed the distance between them. And because Gojo rarely teleported during training with the students, his dodging window became narrower and narrower until-

“There!” Yuji cried. The golden spot, wide open for the world to see. He had feigned an uppercut, making Gojo jump back. His other hand had gone to punch his cheek, now swiped away by the older man’s quick reflexes. That left his ribcage wide open. Dropping his hands, he switched from a fist to a single finger. This might have been bruised, and he’d apologize for it later, but for now, victory was in sight. He reached forward and-

“Now, now, is this what you really wanted Yuji?”

Gojo was gone, only air remained as the younger man’s hand shoved through the space. The thrust sent him off balance, his face nearly colliding with the mats. Gojo- now behind him, had grabbed the back of his shirt, keeping him upright.

“G-Gojo-sensei! But-But you never teleport!” Yuji stammered, twisting so he could take in that careful smile of his. Oh, he didn’t like that look. He didn’t like it one bit. “Wait! Dohon’t!”

“Don’t what? I’m only standing here, holding you up.” Gojo sounded deeply amused, as if Yuji just told the greatest joke in the world. With a flick, he let his student fall safely, quickly pinning him with one knee. “Though I prefer the ground more. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Wait! Wait wait wahahait! Please! Dohoohn’t!” The giggles were climbing out his throat faster than he could react. “I’m sorry! So so sahahharry!”

“Why? Because you lured me into training with you with false intentions?” Gojo asked, raising a hand. “Because you nearly had me in a rather tight predicament, forcing me to use my curse technique?” Those fingers began to wiggle, making Yuji squirm at the ghost feeling alone.

“Or maybe.” Gojo leaned in, his other hand wiggling just as much. “You’re just sorry you didn’t ask me to tickle you outright?”

“Go-johoohohohohhoohohoho!” Yuji shouted when the white haired man attacked- ten fingers dancing gleefully along his sides. He squirmed this way and that, kicking his legs pitifully behind them as Gojo gave every inch of skin along his waist a prod and scratch. “Whahahhahahhait pleheahhahahahhase!”

“Hmm…nope!” Gojo cheered, reaching up higher to give his student’s ribs a tase. “Let me guess- Megumi told you where I was ticklish? Silly boy- I’ll have to pay him a visit soon to teach him about sharing secrets.” He spread his fingers wide along the sensitive ribs, pressing in like he was playing a piano. “I’m sure you already know this but Megumi? He’s got a really bad spot right along…here!” He pressed towards the top, making Yuji shriek. “Oo, you too?”

“Aheheahhahahahahahhahaha! Nhoohohohohoho! Nohohohohot the rihihihihihibs!” Yuji cried through his laughter, cheeks flushing red as he squeezed his eyes shut. The thumping of his legs intensified when Gojo dropped his hands down towards the lower middle, drilling into the spot with devious precision. “NOHOHOHOOOHOHO!”

“Lesson for you, Yuji. This spot here is devastatingly bad for us tickly rib folks.” Gojo snickered, delighted at the way his student’s laughter faded in and out. “You know, in some religions they say God took one of Adam’s ribs and made Eve. Think that’s why this spot in particular is so bad?”

“GOHOOHOOHOJOHOOHOOHOHO!” Yuji wailed, covering his face with his hands as he hooted and hollered in laughter. “PLEHAHAHHAHAHSE!”

“Heh, alright- new spot then!” Gojo dropped his hands to Yuji’s belly, scratching it like a dog. “Nobara gets really squeaky when I tickle her here- what about you?”

While they weren’t squeaks, Yuji was still laughing. The intensity died down in his voice, and now he was giggling like a child, his legs kicking in a bicycle like motion in response. “Aheheheheh! Ahehehehahhaha! Gohoohohjoohohohoho plhehehahhahase!”

“Not a bad spot, eh?” Gojo asked as if he were discovering this for the first time. With one hand still lightly scratching away at Yuji’s belly, the other came up to tap his chin in thought. “Now where oh where was that spot on you? It wasn’t here…”

“Ahehehahhhaha! Gohohhooohohjohohohoho!”

“Was it here? Nah, not likely.” Gojo’s hand returned to his ribs, making him squeal.

“GOHOHOOHOJOHOOHOOHO!”

“OH! Now I remember!” Gojo cheered. With fast reflexes, he grabbed Yuji’s wrist, bringing it up above his head. “It was right…here!” He ran a finger down the length of the boy’s arm, slowly approaching his armpit.

“Nohohoho! No! Dohohon’t you dahhahahre!”

“Oh I dare.” Gojo looked at him over his sunglasses, shooting a wink.

And then hell broke loose.

“AHHH NOHOHOHOHOOOH GAHAHHAHHAHHAHA! GOHOHOHOOHOHJOHOHOHOHOO!” Yuji howled with mirth, full body spasming as his armpit was dug into. Gojo held on like a bull rider, easily evading flying limbs and a near death headbutt as his fingers danced along the skin. “PLEHAHAHAHHASE NO MOHOHOOHOHOHORE!”

“Aww, and we were just getting to the good part!” Gojo mock pouted, letting go of Yuji’s arm and stepping back, giving the other space. Yuji immediately curled in on himself, gasping for breath as he giggled helplessly. His lungs felt sore from lack of oxygen, and his entire body felt warm from exertion.

But he was smiling- so much so he couldn’t fight it even if he wanted to. “Ehehee…hehehe…cohoohme on, Gohohohjo seehhehhensei! That was so mean!” He grunted, earning a snort.

“Oh I can be meaner. Next time I’ll just go straight for those armpits of yours. Tickle you for a solid hour.” Gojo teased making Yuji squeak and curl up tighter. “We can see how long a cursed body like yours can handle it.”

“Ihihihid rather nohohohot.” Yuji shook his head with a sigh, letting his teacher pull him up. “Sorry for tricking you. That was pretty messed up of me.”

Gojo blinked, surprised. Then he shook his head with his classic grin, reaching out and gently flicking him. “Oh that? Don’t worry about it- I knew what you were up to.”

“HUH?” Yuji gaped, shocked. “How?”

“I’m Gojo Satoru. I know all.” Gojo stood, stretching out. “Let’s just say you’re not the first one to pull something like this on me. An old friend once tried the same thing many years ago.”

“Did they succeed? This friend?” Yuji asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Gojo’s secret smile was the only response he got.

I hope this was good!

EDIT: Found the ask!

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #tickle #tickle fic #gojo satoru #itadori yuji #fluff #chaos #Gojo's evil #but we love him for it #Yuji's having a good time #this was super fun to write!

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waynedunlaptheorgandonor · 4 years ago

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10.16: a certain doom

spoilers (both general and caryl) under the cut:

the episode iiiiiissss not super worth the six month wait (like in general, not vis a vis caryl)

it’s marginally more exciting than the penultimate episode

marginally

i think the problem is they utilized time poorly, so the attack on hilltop was Amazing, but then they accidentally forgot to make the end of the war suspenseful or interesting lol

that being said, it had its moments, so let’s break it down, shall we?

first off, caryl have a brief scene in the beginning in the stairwell where daryl is telling carol that michonne left, and he’s like “everybody leaves and then i never see them again :( “ and carol is like “...i haven’t left” and daryl goes “-sure jan-” and leaves carol looking like a hurt puppy bc she thinks he still hasn’t forgiven her/never really will, more on that later

lydia and carol have a scene where lydia is like:

and carol was like “that’s cuz you should hate me and shouldn’t try and look to me for advice, go find your own way in life” and lydia says “k i’m not asking you to be my mom, i’m asking if we can be bros, but w/e, i’m sure this conversation isn’t foreshadowing to an event that will happen later”

more on that later

princess & crew broke their bikes so they were running late to the rendezvous, and eugene was about to give up, but zeke gave an empowering speech about Never Giving Up (which is kinda weird coming from a dude with cancer whose wife left him and whose son got murdered, but w/e, you get on with your optimistic self, zeke) and convinced him to carry on, more on that later

(here’s an exclusive sneak peek at the scene tho:)

there’s a two hour long scene of our main peeps walking through the giant horde covered in guts, which would be more interesting if they didn’t do that all the time

beatrice got eaten which would have been more of a bummer if i remembered who beatrice was

it did get lydia involved in the fight tho, so that’s something

side note: negan gave lydia alpha’s mask as if it was supposed to be symbolic or something, instead of incredibly traumatizing to this little girl whose abusive mother just got her head chopped off, like couldn’t she have just put guts on like the other people? ok, my dude, way to be a surrogate father figure ig

while carol is still stuck in the horde daryl asks where carol is, which has been the majority of his lines this season

they try to lead the horde away by blasting talking heads, which is a little on the nose but entertaining nonetheless, but then carol had to go and say “protect the horses,” which is a guarantee that the horses will get eaten, bc it’s twd, so whomp whomp, they lose their apparently only plan for leading the horde away

(how have they not learned better by now?)

(better question: how are there any horses left??)

daryl has an unintentionally funny line where he’s like, “k so this is a super shitty idea, and i am aware of that, but let’s just go fucking kill all of the whisperers”

lydia then volunteers to go throw herself off a cliff to get rid of the horde, and daryl brushes her off, more on that later

anyway they go and just. kill all the whisperers ig? including beta? whose death took like two seconds and involved a brief flashback montage and was incredibly anticlimactic for how fucking badass he was (negan draws him away, daryl stabs him the eyes, which was kinda cool, and then he goes and stands in the middle of the horde and smiles wistfully while he’s eaten alive, like a normal person would do)

up at headquarters gabriel is about to get murdered by whisperers, but then maggie and her masked friend somehow make it past the entire horde and up the stairs in time to save him

sure

cut to lydia leading the entire horde to the cliff, but then carol jumps in and tells her to go and that she’ll do it, and is about to go for a fun tumble, BUT THEN lydia pulls her away and they have a brief argument about it

their whole plotline this episode is very:

anyway

what follows is what’s meant to be a heartwarming scene between the two of them where they put aside all their baggage and hug each other and realize they’re stronger together than at odds, and objectively it’s a good scene, but i couldn’t stop laughing bc they kept showing the walkers falling off the cliff and it looked SO STUPID, it was hilarious

they just. literally kept just stepping off the cliff and falling like bricks askdfljs

and then lydia went and threw alpha’s mask off the cliff and that Did Not make it less funny

idk, i’m probably just a bad person, but it was super fucking funny, anyway

maggie reunited with judith, which was actually very sweet, esp when you remember that she delivered her (in the most traumatic way possible)

the caryl scene was nice. i had to watch it a couple times before i decided how nice, bc like everything else in the episode it felt kind of rushed, but essentially carol and lydia return, and daryl is standing in the exact position he was standing in “no sanctuary”, bc apparently that’s how he leans on trees, and carol approaches him super warily, and they both stare at each other, and carol asks him if he’s good, and he is visibly trying not to cry when he goes “yeah. it’s over. right?” and she says yes, and he asks her if she got what she wanted, and she says no, and he tells her she still has him, and she’s like “yeah?” while crying, bc, per earlier interaction, she was p sure she was never gonna get him back entirely, and he says yeah, and then they hug, and carol makes a little sob noise, and daryl buries his face in her shoulder and is teary, too, and then daryl brings up new mexico, and carol says “maybe someday” and daryl deffo looks disappointed but agrees, and then carol has her “we still have things to do, i’m clearly saying this as a set up for dramatic scenes that are about to follow” line

cue dramatic things following

connie is alive (we been knew), but is banged tf up, and runs into virgil. or more like collapses on the ground and virgil finds her and they stare blankly at each other until connie passes out

and then we jump back to princess & crew, who are sitting there bummed out bc stephanie isn’t there, and eugene is like, “bc of zeke’s wise words, i am Not Giving Up, we set out to find and recruit people (did they? i literally don’t remember) and so that’s what we’ll do!”

and it’s a Big Moment of Solidarity and Strength

for all of five seconds, bc they are then accosted by stormtroopers, who presumably work for commonwealth. whether or not commonwealth is building a death star is unclear at this time, but i suppose we’ll find out soon

cue end credits!

so overall: the episode occurred. it wasn’t like, devastatingly disappointing, in that the penultimate episode didn’t really set me up for any sort of big anticipation, and also i had spoilers ahead of time. i wish there had been more time for things like beta’s death to be played out properly, but i wonder also if they were limited on what they could do bc of pandemic shit and trying to get it edited as quickly as possible

as it stands, even tho the whisperers are my favorite twd villains, i’m glad they didn’t do what they did with the saviors and have it drag on for ten million years for no reason

the bottle episodes should be interesting, and prob will lead us into commonwealth, which, again, not sure on the status of the death star, but i’m excited to see what happens regardless

on the caryl front i’m about where i was before, which is fully anticipating canon coming, and my guess is the season will really heavily set up their departure, which means we will have many more scenes to come

the end

as usual, stay hype, stan kang, and get daryl to call carol sweetheart 2k20 (i still have three months left, i’m not giving up yet, zeke wouldn’t want me to),

-diz

#caryl #caryl spoilers #twd #twd s10 spoilers #dunlap tp

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luci-cunt · 4 years ago

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hola my dear unholy defiler!! for the fanfic title thing: “old heartbreaks and new tattoos” (bc i’m incapable of choosing titles without stealing lyrics, oops :/ )

Bonjour my fondly defiled god! FANTASTIC fic title i love you

k so this one HAS to have just a lliiiiiitttttllleee biiiitttt of angst but I’m still sticking with AFtG and Andreil cuz, y’all I’m a slut for it leave me alone XDD (you can request other pairings if you want tho XD I’m just uncreative XDD)

let’s seee.... we’ll start with a scene set--

So, you’ve got Neil-- 18, living with his dad, who in this timeline killed his mom and Neil never got out. Neil’s stuck, no way of getting out, BUT opportunity strikes in the form of a war

YES you read that right it’s 1940 babeeeyyyy

Neil sneaks out, signs up--almost gets turned down cuz he’s hella tiny but manages to convince the recruiter to let him anyways for the sake of “patriotism”

Neil’s plan is to serve for a while in France, out of the way of his father and get his feet under him before deserting and booking it to like, idk, somewhere else in Europe.

Meanwhile: Andrew is being tossed around foster care, on a random turn of luck he bumps into Aaron who’s oddly literally identical. He finds out they’re brothers/ the whole Tilda situation/ blah blah, but before he has the chance to move in or anything the draft hits and Aaron’s the one hit with it.

He’s supposed to get shipped out to France, but he’s still all hoped up on drugs and Andrew has seen his fair share of returning “war heros” and he realizes Aaron going to France is a death sentince

So he goes for him.

He takes Aaron’s name/ identity Mulan style and goes as Aaron Minyard into the war

(back at home Aaron only realizes what’s happened AFTER Andrew’s gone and by this point he can’t do shit so he has to go into hiding)

And--big shocker--Neil and Andrew are deployed to the same front

Neil’s been there for a bit longer by the time Andrew shows up, but Andrew clocks his intentions to desert REAL QUICK

instead of outing him tho--he asks to come with

He doesn’t give a single fuck about the war, he just wanted to keep Aaron out of trouble

Neil doesn’t trust him, but Andrew says if Neil leaves him behind he’ll just tell the commander what happened and Neil can’t have that so fuckin fine I guess this bitch is coming

They realize they can’t leave just yet when they come under mortar fire that pins them down for a week straight.

(ayeee bonding week~ what’s better to bond over than the constant fear of death ~~~~~~~~)

They bond with some cigarettes andrew brought, and Neil takes one and says he’ll only light it when they’re free of the warfront and he can properly enjoy it.

Then the mortar fire lets up and they’re charging out of their trench for the enemy and everything’s a rush

Neil manages to lose Andrew and he flips his lid

Turns out Andrew’s fine--or--kinda. he got hit with a stray grenade and his leg’s almost totally fucked.

Neil gets him to safety (back to the abandoned trench they were in before) patches him up as best he can, leaves him with a gun, and tells him not to move while he goes to get help

Bs happens, Neil gets help, Andrew ends up fine but now he’s gotta get carted away on medical leave.

Turns out tho his leg is fucked, so he gets honorably discharged and sent “home”

He trades identies back with Aaron, makes a big deal of the long lost twin Andrew Minyard coming home after seeing a picture of his brother getting honored in the paper and waits.

He’s worried about Neil, and even MORE worried when, not a month later, he gets a guy on his front step telling Aaron that Nathaniel Wesninski was captured and taken as a prisoner of war. The camp he was at was bombed--there were no survivors, and he left this for you.

it’s the cigarette, taped to a ragged looking postcard with a cheesy picture of Palm Springs on it. The post card is blank.

Well fuck.

Andrew is fucked, he locks himself in his room for the day, drinks himself dumb and doesn’t talk for three days.

At the end of the third he leaves the house, and when he comes back he’s got a new tattoo--it’s simple, just a black-and-white, unlit cigarette right over the pulse point on his neck.

He doesn’t explain it, doesn’t say anything, but he goes on the back porch and stares at the cigarette that came with the postcard, and, after a moment, lights up.

Three weeks later things aren’t doing well but he’s managing.

He’s leaving the gym one day, reeking and tired, when he spots someone leaning against his car.

The man grins up at him, and says “can I bum a cigarette?”

!!! this got alsdkdjf;laksdj a little involved XDD sorry I got into it XD

send me a fic title and I’ll say how I’d write it out!

#!!!!#thank you for the ask!!!#<33333 #I hope you liked it!!#fic #andreil #luci writes

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mysterioh · 5 years ago

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The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 9

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

Synopsis: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge in art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

Masterlist

We Meet Again My Dearest Mobster

“You guys know each other?” May asked with a smile.

“Nope,” Peter quickly replied. “I’ve never met her in my life.”

You looked at him. Yup, you’ve definitely seen this guy somewhere. May’s phone goes off and she reaches into her pocket to check.

“Oh, it’s the supplier,” she said aloud. She looked over to Peter with a frown. “Mind if I take this, it’s really important.”

Peter shook his head with a sweet smile. “It’s okay, I can wait.”

“You’re the sweetest,” she said with a chuckle, ruffling his hair as she walked by.

You waited until May closed the door to her office behind her to speak.

“Alright, punk, who are you?” you questioned. “I know we’ve met before?”

“What? Honest, Miss!” he said. “I’ve never seen you in my life!”

“Cut the crap and play straight with me,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms.

“Now I understand why the boss likes you so much,” he chuckled.

You dropped the spoon in your hand. "Wait what?"

Peter cupped his mouth. "N-nothing!" Peter exclaimed. "I said nothing!"

"No, no, no," you hurried towards him. "You just said something. Say it again."

"I just remembered I have to go somewhere. Bye, Aunt May!" He took a dash for the door, but you caught him by the collar of his shirt.

"Not so fast, pipsqueak," you said, yanking him towards you. "Who the hell is your boss and how does he know me?"

"Well, uh - um - you see," Peter stuttered, not knowing what was worse. Outing his boss or your wrath.

"Spit it out already!" You exclaimed, pulling him closer.

"His name is Steve! Steve Rogers!" Peter confessed. "The King of Brooklyn!"

Your grip on his collar loosens at the blonde's name. "Steve?" You said in shock.

"Yeah," Peter fixed his collar with a sigh.

"The freak from the museum's gotta crush on me?" you murmured to yourself in disbelief.

"I think it's time I go," Peter slipped by you.

"Not so fast," you said flatly and he froze in his steps. "You've got a lot of explaining to do."

“Let me wallow in my misery, Nat,” Steve groaned from his office chair.

Nat rolled her eyes at the sight of him. He was leaned back in his seat with a book on his face.

“Listen here, Romeo, enough’s enough,” Nat crossed her arms. “I’m sick and tired of you acting like this.”

“It’s a free country,” he replied from underneath his book.

“Free country my ass,” Bucky deadpanned. “We’re worried about you man,” he said. “You’ve been acting weird for the past two weeks.”

“Listen, I’m fine,” Steve stated, “And what the hell are you three doing here anyway? Don’t you have work to do?”

“Don’t change the topic,” Sam warned, leaning toward him on the desk. “You gotta talk to us, man, ‘cause you’re messing up everything.”

“You gonna tell me how to do my job, Sammy?” Steve sits up, making his book fall onto the floor. His tone quickly shifting from tired to serious. “Cause I’d really love some pointers.”

“Maybe I’ll have to cause you’re acting like a dumbass!” Sam said. “What made you think nuking the Gambino brothers was a good idea? Are you trying to start a war here?”

“They lied to my face,” Steve snapped back. “You saw it with your own eyes. They’re working with Hydra behind my back.”

“You know they got a brother out in Chicago,” Bucky reminded. “You think he’s just gonna let you do that?”

“You think I’m afraid of some punk from puny Chicago?” Steve retorted, standing up with blood rushing to his head. “I’m the fucking mob king and I do what I want. I’m sending a message. Anyone who even thinks to go against me is gonna regret it. I’m maintaining the order. ”

“By creating more chaos?” Sam asked. Steve’s eyes cut to him sharply, but it’d take more than that to scare Sam off. “This wasn’t the way to do it, Steve, and you know it.”

Steve’s lips pursed into a scowl. He was stubborn to admit it.

“Stevie,” Nat called him, “You sure this isn’t about something else?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You sure this isn’t about the girl?”

Steve’s heart dropped. “No,” he stated, if they really listened they could hear his voice shake.

“Yeah?” Bucky said, disbelief written in his eyes.

“Y-yeah,” he affirmed. The three look at him with blank expressions. "It isn't okay?" he stated firmly. "So quit bringing her up in every damn conversation," he brushes past Sam and Bucky and walks towards the door.

"Steve, don't you think you're just repeating the same steps you did with Peggy?" Nat said boldly.

Bucky and Sam look at her, scared out of their minds. Steve freezes at the door, his grip on the metal knob was tight. He turns towards them with sharp, icy eyes.

Red Alert. Red Alert.

"Why can't you just let us help?" She asked. "You'll end up hurting yourself more. Just like you did with-"

"Don't say her name," he interjected, his tone dipped in venom. "And I can handle things on my own. I don't need anyone's help." He said.

With that, he opens the door and leaves with a loud slam. The three winced at the sound of the door then slump in their defeat.

"He's gonna make it worse," Sam prophesied, "and he's gonna drag us with him."

"Till death do us part, y'know?" Bucky chuckled sadly.

"Bro, don't say it like that," Sam snarled.

"Can you two shut up for once?" Nat hissed.

"What's with you?" Bucky asked, placing his hands on his hips.

"Shut up, I'm thinking," she snapped at him.

"Oh great," Bucky huffed. "Steve's being an ass and now you're thinking." Nat shoots a glare his way. "What's becoming of this world?" He cried.

She elbows him hard in the gut and he bends over with a whimper.

"What are you thinking, Nat?" Sam asked nicely but cautiously.

"Thinking how we can help, Steve."

"He just said he didn't want help," Bucky wheezed.

Nat clicked her tongue. "You know how stubborn he is! He won't ask for help because he's too damn proud of himself!"

"So what do you have in mind, Romanoff?" Sam asked with a smirk, leaning against Steve's desk.

"We find the girl and talk to her," Nat said.

"Yeah, and how do we do that?" Sam questioned. "I mean, what would we even say?"

“Hold on, I haven’t thought that far yet,” she grumbled. Her lips pursed into a pout and she furrowed her brows in rumination. C’mon Nat, think, think.

And like a blessing in disguise, her answer comes through the door in the form of a ruffled brunette.

“You guys won’t believe who I just met!” Peter beamed.

A few moments ago…

“You know he really likes you,” said Peter, sitting across from you in the empty restaurant. He took another bite of his banana bread. “Like a lot,” he said with his mouth stuffed with bread.

“Yeah?” you said nonchalantly, propping your chin upon your hand.

Although your exterior was calm and collected, your insides were going wild. Yeah, you knew he had some sort of interest in you. But you always thought he just wanted to get in your pants. Isn’t that what all guys like him wanted to do? You weren’t so sure anymore.

“Yeah,” he took a sip of his milk, “when he found out about your boyfriend he was totally bummed out.” Your stone face crumbled and you frowned. Oh, this is bad.

How ya been?

Good.

He lied.

“Well, that’s his fault, not mine,” you pointed out in denial.

“It is,” Peter agreed, “but I kinda feel bad for the guy.” You raised a brow. “I heard he got his heart broken before. Like torn into shreds. I don’t know much about it cause I’m still new.”

Something deep in that little grinch heart of yours stung badly. Why you felt bad, you didn’t know, but you did. Sure, he came off a bit hard, but he was a nice guy overall. Minus the whole mob thing, that is.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you sympathized, awkwardly shifting in your seat.

Peter’s phone lit up on the table and he looks over to see who it is. He picked it up and replied quickly. He shoved the rest of his bread in his mouth and you looked at him slightly disgusted.

“Sorry, I gotta go pick up my girlfriend from her yoga class,” he said, slipping his phone in his pocket and getting up.

“No problem,” you stood up with a smile, “thanks for answering my questions and sorry about being so — uh rough.”

Peter chortled in reply. “Nah, it’s fine. Y’know you’d make a great mobster the way you hold yourself. You interested in a job? The pay’s real nice.”

“No,” you smiled sheepishly, “I’m fine.”

Peter shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he walked over to the door before turning again. “Oh, can you tell Aunt May I had to leave?”

“Yeah, no problem,” you replied, following him.

Peter waved before opening the door, letting in a gust of cold winter air. You wrap your arms around you while standing, trying to figure out what to say.

“Uh, Peter,” you called after him, making him turn back. You sighed, hot breath vaporizing in the cold air. “Tell your boss I said hi,” you said with a sweet smile.

He nodded with a grin. “Sure thing!”

The place was packed to the corners.

Steve looked around at the busy tables. An old couple eating side by side studiously bent over their meals. A group of women around their thirties collapsing in fits of laughter over old memories while a lonely woman not too far off looked on with a frown. A family with exasperated teenagers and businessmen negotiating over a glass of wine and steak. It's like the colors of the rainbow and Steve can't help but hate being squished in the middle of it all.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked pointedly.

Nat smirks. "Peter recommended this place to me so I thought we could check it out," she told him.

"But why me specifically?" Steve questioned. "Why not Sam or that one chick you're always fighting with?"

"Because," Nat said with an exaggerated sigh, "I felt like it. Besides we have to talk."

"I already told you I'm not-"

"Shut your face, it's not about the girl. It's about Lucky."

Steve grumbles and glares. "You know I'm the boss right?" He warns.

Natasha laughs from her stomach. "Stevie, you know better than anyone," she said, shifting her weight onto one hand. "I work under no man. I'm here because I want to be."

"Sure it's not because of Bucky?" He snickered making her groan.

Nat kicked him hard in the shin and he yelps in pain. He leans down and rubs his leg. "You jerk."

"I'll kill you, Steve," she hissed through gritted teeth.

"I'd like to see you try," he said before taking a sip of his soda as the waitress sauntered down the aisle.

"Hi, my name is Y/N, I'll be your waitress for today," you greeted. Steve's drink almost goes through his nose at the sound of your voice. He coughed and patted his chest while Nat smirked at him.

Why Why Why Why

He's afraid to look up cause he knows you're going to be there and in all honesty, he didn't want to see you right now.

"You okay, Stevie?" Nat asked with an amused grin.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he wheezed, shooting her an evil glare. He looks up to see you giving him a sweet lopsided smile paired with a small chuckle from his reaction.

"Hey, dude, how's it been?"

There's an indescribable warmth behind that smile. As if you're happy to see him again. It could be skin deep but he refused to see it that way. He'd stay blind if you kept on looking at him like that. He'd be Pygmalion as long as you were his Galatea.

TAG LIST: @ashwarren32 @rootcrop @siriusement @savedbystark @great-goddess-of-sin @boxofteenageideas @little-dark-empress @imsonick @scuzmunkie @achishisha @chuckennuggets1213 @captainchrisstan

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers imagine #mob!steve #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #mobster!steve rogers #mob!steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x you #mob au

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heartofsnark · 5 years ago

Text

This Is Love (Chapter One): Welcome to Hope County

Notes: Soooo, I’ve been talking about this for a bit and it’s time to just take the jump and start publishing my Far Cry 5 fic. I hope you enjoy. Also, i have like a series warning for this that will be on every chapter cause it needs it.

Summary: Dahlia Hale is the youngest person working at the Hope County Sheriff’s Department. Hailing from a small town in Louisiana, it’s going to take her some time to fully acclimate to the new environment and living on her own. Developing friendships takes time even for the most functional of people and for disasters like Dahlia it takes even longer. She gets along with her coworkers and there’s some religious family who’s taken a shine to her, for some reason. It seems like she’s on her way to getting the kind of friends she’s only ever dreamed about, even if it’s going to take some more time.

Then everything goes to shit.

Halfway through her six-month probationary hire and that nice religious family has kicked off a holy war with her becoming enemy number one.

To one side she’s a hero.

To the other she’s a monster. She’s not sure which is right.

Word Count: 9,290

Series Warning: I usually do not like to spoil endgame pairings in my fics, but this warrants being up front. This series is polyseed and involves heavy, recurrent themes of at times romanticized noncon, dubcon, large age differences, and stockholm syndrome that develops into a romantic relationship. The relationship between my oc and the Seeds is extremely unhealthy, toxic, and should never be replicated or sought out in real life. No matter how things progress or how they are portrayed at different points, this fact remains the same. i am comfortable exploring and enjoying these themes in fiction, not everyone is. If you are uncomfortable with or triggered by any of these things, please skip this and take the precautions you feel necessary to avoid this material. If you are an individual who struggles with separating reality and fiction; please do not read this. Otherwise, if you’re comfortable with and enjoy that kind of content, please enjoy.

Chapter Warnings: Bliss flowers, hallucinations, threats of violence (really not bad compared to whats to come)

A shiver rolls down Dahlia’s spine, the chill of the Montana night settling into her bones. A sign welcomes her to Hope County, her motorcycle tire spinning dirt at it as she passes. The moon shines bright in the sky, cascading silver light down on everything. It’s beautiful despite the cold, light reflecting off the lakes and streams that pass through the county.

It’s mostly woods and forests, fields of big white flowers and animals wandering through. The entire county is begging to be put on a postcard, from the animals, to the fields, to the…giant cement statue of a guy with a manbun…

Her tires squeal as she comes to a stop on the thankfully vacant road, she pushes the visor of her helmet up, as if the tint could cause her to see something like this. Sure enough, the white hunk of stone is still there. It’s of a man with his hair pulled back in a small bun, in one hand he holds a book and the other gestures outward.

Hair raises on the back of her neck and goosebumps collect across her skin, the statue is…eerie. It looms across the entire region, a creeping specter. Unnerving doesn’t even begin to describe it, her body has started to lean towards it, almost drawn to it.

Maybe it’s a historical figure for the county? People do that right, build monuments to founders or something. The clothes of the figure seem old fashioned, but she’s not sure about how far back the manbun goes.

She shakes her head and slaps her visor back down, she needs sleep. It shouldn’t be much further to her hotel. Dahlia revs her engine and rushes off that way, finally finding the large wooden hotel with its red roof. There’s a large wooden sign welcoming her to the King’s Hot Spring Hotel, the parking lot is decidedly vacant, and she comes to a stop by the smaller stone black sign that sits close to the larger wooden one, easy to overlook if someone wasn’t looking close enough.

“King’s Hot Spring Hotel

On May 12th, 1902 a 7.6 earthquake struck the mountain south of the hotel. It created a 10 million ton landslide that sliced a deep crevice in the earth and destroyed half the King’s hotel. 16 people were killed in the landslide, their bodies never recovered. To this day, their ghosts are said to haunt the site of the rebuilt hotel.

Built 1866.”

So, from a dirty cockroach motel to a haunted hotel, certainly a step up. She doesn’t really believe in ghosts, they’re cool as all hell, she loves creepy shit. But she doesn’t think any of it is real and if she’s wrong, maybe the ghosts will be nice enough to kill her. She parks her bike and shuts off the engine, unclipping her storage bag from it and making her way to the door.

The inside feels warm and welcoming, rustic. A large stone fireplace with a bear skin rug in front of it, wooden stairs leading to the upper floors. Her eyes scan the room and she finds a registration desk where a woman sits, reading from a white book. She stands out slightly in the old styled hotel, tattoos covering her arms. The woman’s light, almost milky, green eyes, look up to see Dahlia as she makes her way to the desk.

“I called ahead and reserved a room for tonight.”

“Hale, right?” The girl flashes a soft smile as she slides the registration forms across the desk and Dahlia finds herself looking down at the receptionist’s arms, SLOTH and ENVY with strikes through them; half tattooed and half scarred in the woman’s skin. Heavy-handed work.

“Yeah, that’s me, how’d you know?”

“Oh, not many folks check in here anymore, between the ghost tales and the new management.”

“Management?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow as she finishes scribbling in her info and handing her card over.

“Here,” the woman hands Dahlia’s card back along with a room key and a map, “I’m sure you’ll find the path.”

“Uhh…thanks…”

She shakes her head as she leaves the desk, doing a double take at the worker, who’s now back to reading the large white tome with a soft smile on her face. Dahlia is entirely too tired to deal with weird cryptic people, maybe she’s trying to play up the creepy factor of the supposedly haunted hotel. Probably intrigues the tourists or some shit. She takes her phone from her pocket, ringing Lloyd as she walks to her room.

“Hey, Stray,” He greets her with the nickname he gave her and she already feels a little better despite the chill and exhaustion.

“Hey,” Dahlia unlocks her room and strides in, there’s a deer head mounted on the wall and a vase of those white flowers on the bedside drawer, “just wanted to let you know that I am officially in Hope County.”

She tosses her luggage, along with the gunk the receptionist gave her onto the bed and does a fist bump for no one’s benefit but her own.

“That’s good, your interview is tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, hopefully it’ll go well, if not it might be another year of me eating cheese puffs on your couch.”

“You make it sound like you’re some sort of bum.”

“I mean…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m gonna be a mess when you go.”

“If I go, still gotta get the job.”

“You’re gonna nail it, I know it, me and Earl were friends way back. He’s not dumb enough to let you go. And if he is, well, I’ll be having some words with him.”

“You can’t fight someone for not wanting to hire me.”

“I mean, I can, uh, yeah, sweetie it’s stray, I was kinda, oh Caroline wants-“

“Stray, did you throw your fucking phone away?” Caroline, Lloyd’s wife, is on the phone in a second, worriedly yelling.

“I talked to you when I stopped off in Denver.”

“Yeah, in a dingy nasty motel and then we didn’t hear a word from you for over twelve fucking hours!”

“I’m pretty sure I could handle myself,” Dahlia laughs and rolls her eyes, the concern is appreciated but unneeded. She’s a cop and despite her short stature, she’s got muscles and knows how to protect her. Maybe it’s cocky and arrogant, but at this point in her life, she’s not afraid of anything hurting her physically, mentally and emotionally is a whole other ballpark.

“Still, what if you were in an accident. Have you ate? Do you know where you’re eating tonight?”

She ate back in Denver and her stomach is growling now, but she mostly just wants a shower and sleep. She’d rather just grab room service for breakfast.

“I’m fine, I’ve ate and I will eat. Stop worrying, now I’m gonna get settled in for the night, I’ll call you after the interview.”

“Wait, ha-”

“Goodbye, mon cher,” Dahlia ends the call after her casual term of endearment, cher and mon cher as normal to her as bud or pal. Maybe it’s just a Cajun French Louisiana thing, or it’s one of the many things she picked up from her dad. She instinctively plays with the ring that hangs from a chain around her neck, he was always so proud of where he came from, teaching her Cajun French from the moment she could talk. Would he be upset with her leaving the state?

She shakes the thought from her head, she can’t concern herself with the opinions of people who aren’t here, as much as they’d mean to her. Dahlia finally has the tools to be independent and make her own way in this world, she needs to seize any and every opportunity. She double checks that her door is locked, before stripping out of her clothes.

Dahlia sets her phone to play music as she takes a shower, singing along to it as hot water eases her aching muscles. Once she’s cleaned, she dries off and starts to make her way to the bed where her luggage is.

The large white blooms on the table between the bed and window, draw her eye, her suspicion confirmed that they’re the same as the fields of flowers she saw on her way here. They must be a common flower here. She’s not a plant person, but she can appreciate pretty flowers when she sees them. The petals are soft against her finger and she pulls out one of the fresh flowers, sniffing at it. It tickles her nose, the soft scent pleasant, but it makes her want to sneeze. She tucks it back in the vase and scrubs at her nose.

Her vision swims for a moment, suddenly light-headed. She hasn’t slept much and has been driving a lot, her eyes must be tired as well.

Dahlia digs some comfy sleeping clothes from her bag to change into. Content in her shorts and tee, the hotel much warmer than the outside chill. She pushes her luggage off her bed and takes a look at the Hope County map.

Her vision is still swimming but she reaffirms where she needs to be tomorrow for her interview. It’s over in Fall’s End at the Sheriff’s Department. Dahlia fishes a marker out of her discarded jacket pocket and then starts to write directions down on her right forearm before tucking the map away.

She rifles a cigarette from her quickly emptying pack, most places don’t like their hotel rooms stinking like nicotine.

Cool air rushes in as she opens the window, she leans against the windowsill, appreciating the view of the moonlight reflecting in the pool of spring water. Montana really is beautiful.

She lights her cigarette, looking away for a second to ignite it.

“Ooooh ooooh~” A soft melodic voice drifts in, piercing the quiet, and Dahlia’s head snaps back to the window.

In the grass, a woman surrounded by green mist spins and dances, singing softly into the night. She’s young, but still older than Dahlia with dirty blonde hair that falls past her shoulders. A white lace dress with flowers across the waist and skirt. Illuminated by moonlight, a heavenly glow, angelic but singing a siren’s song.

Who would be out there at this time of night?

Dahlia’s the only one in the hotel and she doubts the staff indulges in nightly dance sessions.

When did Dahlia start leaning further out the window?

Every fiber of her being screams at her to run to the woman. To jump out the window if she has to, anything to get closer to the hauntingly beautiful woman dancing along the decks before the spring.

Dahlia slams the window shut, quick and hard enough to rattle it. It’s late, she’s exhausted, she’s ridden her bike almost twenty-eight hours straight. Only stopping for a late night in a shitty hotel in Denver before getting back on the road at eight am this morning.

Between ghost stories and exhaustion her brain is fucking with her.

The woman’s singing is still there.

Softer now but still present, still beckoning.

Every muscle in her body is tense, prepared to bolt in order to go find that woman.

She smashes her fist against the side of her head, the impact of her knuckles rattling her skull as she literally tries to knock sense into herself. Her visions seem to clear a bit and she can’t hear the singing anymore, but she also might have concussed herself.

Her cigarette is stamped out before she’s even halfway through it and she’s setting her phone alarm before jumping into the bed.

She buries her face in the pillow, no matter what she hears or thinks she’ll see, she’s not going anywhere until the morning. This interview is the most stressful thing she’s dealt with in years, so much rides on it, and she can’t be exhausted tomorrow from chasing fairy ghosts or what the fuck ever.

Her mind is just playing tricks on her, it’s an asshole, it does that.

She’s not certain exactly when she fell asleep, but the next thing she knows her alarm is going off. Dahlia groans and forces herself out of bed, she hates waking up. Her interview isn’t even late, but god, fuck waking up.

Her head is clearer now, no swimming in her vision and no singing or sirens. She forces her way out of bed, groggily trying to go about her day.

She’s running late, she’s always running late, time isn’t real.

After taking her sweet sleepy time to get herself put together and inhaling a room service breakfast, Dahlia is running down the hotel stairs and scrubbing syrup off her chin. Why does she do this to herself? The receptionist calls out something and she waves her off.

Helmet slapped on and engine revving, she guns it out of the parking lot and makes her way to towards the Valley. She comes to a bridge and pulls her arm from her jacket to read her scribbled directions, remembering too late that she can’t read her own handwriting.

She squints trying to decipher what the hell she wrote, her chicken scratch leaving a lot to be desired. It looks like it might say she’s going to Holland Valley or Halland Volley or Hallard, something to that effect by crossing the Honne…Benne…Rover….Dridge… Why does she do this to herself?

She’s probably on the right track, probably. Dahlia readjusts her jacket, confirming that her mess of directions won’t be getting any clearer the longer she stares at it and makes her way over the bridge. More signs hang from the inner framework of the bridge, half of them bearing a cross symbol with what looks like sunbeams coming from the center, the other half states The Power Of YES; Take The Leap.

Heebie jeebies nest in her gut, those goosebumps from earlier coming back. Religion…

Maybe it was too optimistic, but she had hoped further up North she’d see less of…that. She did searches online and was told based on some statistical thing that Montana was less religious than Louisiana. But apparently religion isn’t completely avoidable in the United States.

The crisp smell of apples manages to break through her helmet as she leaves the bridge. Apple trees as far as the eye can see, bright red fruit gleaming under sunlight, a giant orchard surrounds the road. People mill about the apple trees; couples holding hands and parents hefting their children up on their shoulders to pick the highest apples their little hands can reach. A few people look at her as she rides past, the rev of her engine and the music pounding from her helmet drawing attention. Some looks are judgmental, others unconcerned, a small kid waves at her as she passes by and she waves back, smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. There’s a constructed Apple Statue in the orchard, noting that she’s riding through the Gardenview Orchard.

Over the horizon, built into the hills of the Holland Valley is a giant Hollywood style sign that says ‘YES’. It’s infinitely less creepy than the weird man statue, but far cheesier. Whether that’s better or worse? Who knows, but Hope County is definitely…weirder than she anticipated.

She passes through the orchard and coming up on the left apple trees are replaced with pumpkins on the ground. Fields growing them, some clearly bigger and further along in the growing process, none fully ripe, however. A house is built among the fields, one fence with a sign that says Rae-Rae’s Pumpkin Farm.

There’s a couple walking around, holding hands, but more importantly there’s a dog. A mottled coat of black, white, and blue gray with a bandana around their neck. The dog’s head raises at the rev of Dahlia’s motorcycle engine passing by on the road, tail wagging but he doesn’t run out, a well-trained doggo.

She’s running late.

She doesn’t have time.

One pet can’t hurt.

Dahlia comes to a screeching halt, tires squealing and bracing herself against her handlebars of her bike so she doesn’t fly across the farm. The couple taken aback, staring wide-eyed at her as she kills her music and yanks off her helmet. The doggie is still wagging its tail, eager to meet their new friend.

“Can I pet your dog?”

The couple is older, by Dahlia standards, so probably around their thirties…or forties…or twenties…ages confuse her. A woman with short sandy hair and a man with a knit hat over his head, the woman’s dropped jaw becomes a soft smile, her eyes gentle.

“Of course,” a thick southern accent tints her voice, “Boomer’s doesn’t know a stranger.”

Dahlia stays outside the wooden fence, not wanting to step on crops or something, but she leans over it. Boomer’s big brown eyes landing on her, so cute, she already loves him. A few coos and he’s already rushing over, standing to put his paws at the top of the fence so he can get some much-deserved love. She pets the top of his head, scratching behind his ears and around his neck. He eagerly leans into scritch and pet, licking her.

“Awww, such a good boy, yes you are,” she praises and laughs, soaking it in. Even if she’s running late, this is more than worth it.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” The woman asks.

“Nah, here for a job interview,” Dahlia answers, hugging around Boomer’s neck as she snuggles him.

“Where you interviewing at?”

“Sheriff’s department.”

“You’re kind of young for a cop, ain’tcha?”

“I’m an adult,” she says, shrugging her shoulders through the hug. She is a young adult and that’s all that needs to be said on that.

“They finally trying to fill that deputy position?”

“Seems like it.”

“Sorry, to brush you off so soon, but we have to go pick up some equipment before noon and we’re already cutting it close.”

Shit, right, time. She’s running late too, but the dog was worth it.

“No problem, have a good one, you keep being a good boy, Boomer.”

She gives a final scratch to his head, then slides her helmet back on, waving off the couple as she hops back on her bike. Her nerves have eased slightly at having gotten some time with a dog and even if she’s late, she doesn’t regret it.

Her engine revs and she’s back to traveling down the quiet Montana roads. The sheriff’s department is in Fall’s End. A water tower baring the town’s name lets her know she’s arrived in the right area. It’s not a huge town. Along the main road, there’s the sheriff’s department, a general store, a bar, a church. There’s little streets and roadways showing that beyond those there’s houses and an apartment complex. Not huge, but certainly bigger than where she’s from, which…isn’t saying much.

Dahlia parks her motorcycle outside the sheriff’s department, all those initially dissipated nerves are bubbling back to the surface. Her stomach in absolute knots and her muscles tense with anxiety. She shuts off her bike and pockets her keys then pulls off her helmet, fiddling with her hair. A deep breath, before she finally steels herself to step into the building.

There’s a desk to Dahlia’s right when she enters the building, an older woman with a layered bob of red hair.

“There something I can help you with, darling?” Her southern accented voice asks.

“I have an interview with the sheriff.”

“Really,” the woman’s eyes scan Dahlia up and down, eyebrows furrowed in judgement, “can I get your name?”

“Hale,” she murmurs, once again fiddling with her messy strands of dark hair. She knows she doesn’t exactly look the most professional right now. But professional clothes and motorcycles don’t truly mix. The woman, her desk tag says N. McClure, shuffles through some documents and reads over something.

“Okay, just take a seat and I’ll let Earl know you’re here.”

Dahlia plops down in one of the reception area’s chairs, fiddling with the cat ears on her motorcycle helmet. Her leg bounces up and down, shaking out excess energy as the woman at the desk starts to call back, asking for Whitehorse. It’ll be fine, Dahlia reassures herself, Lloyd and Caroline have been talking her up to their old friend. All she needs to do is be herself, maybe, probably not. She’s kind of a mess.

The clock hand ticks slowly, Dahlia feeling like she’s about to go crazy waiting for her interview to start. Finally, the woman hangs up the phone she was calling back to Whitehorse on, a soft smile on her face that pulls at the wrinkles around her eyes.

“Earl’s ready to talk to you, come on back.”

The older woman steps out and helps show Dahlia to the office door, passing through a bullpen style office area to get there, Sheriff Whitehorse is scrawled on a plaque by the door. Dahlia knocks and he tells her to come on in, she slowly opens the door and steps in. There’s a modest sized quaint office with only a few personal touches. She’s only seen old photos Lloyd had of himself and Whitehorse, from way back in police academy. The man before her is much older than he was in those photos, weathered with wrinkled skin. He looks like an old sheriff pulled directly from a movie; green uniform, cowboy hat, scraggly brown hair, and a mustache.

“You’re Lloyd and Caroline’s Stray, right?” He says, standing up from his desk to shake her hand over it. He’s over a foot taller than her, probably close to a foot and a half. His hand swallows her own whole, it’s probably bigger than her face.

“Holy shit, you’re tall.”

That’s not a good way to start an interview, but he seems to be laughing and smiling. So, maybe it’s fine. Lloyd once said she has a charm about her despite her lack of tact or decorum. She’s still trying to figure out what that charm is, but still.

“Go ahead and take a seat,” he says, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk. She follows suit, leg still bouncing like it was in the waiting room. Whitehorse puts a manilla folder down on the desk, the little tab labeled D. Hale. It’s surprisingly thick for someone who’s never met her in person.

“Lloyd and Caroline talk highly of you, hell the whole town does.”

“The whole town…?” She raises an eyebrow, what’s that supposed to mean? Reinette, Louisiana is a small town, it’s police department has about six people in total and everyone knows everyone. But certainly, they wouldn’t call up Whitehorse to talk about her.

“I swear Lloyd must have handed out the stations number to everyone down there, we’ve been getting two, three calls a day of people who can’t say enough good things about you.”

“Oh god.” Heat flushes up Dahlia’s cheeks, god damn it, Lloyd.

“You’ve left quite an impression on the place.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Dahlia pushes some hair off her face, fidgeting with the locks.

“And you haven’t been working there long, have you?”

“Not counting training, about a year and a half, I know I don’t have much experience.”

“Still making such an impact in a short amount of time, says something.”

“Thanks.” His words soothe her nerves and embarrassment a bit, maybe this will go well.

“But, there’s the issue of your record…”

“My record…?” She shouldn’t have a record, he opens the manilla folder and she feels bile raise in the back of her throat.

“Between what’s on the books and what everyone was saying, I was starting to wonder if there were two of you, Hale. Runaways, break in, fights, attempted grand theft auto, and petty thefts, the list goes on. Doesn’t exactly scream future cop.”

“I thought records got expunged at eighteen.”

“If you request it.”

“Oh…well then…”

“I know this all happened when you were a minor and you’ve been clear for the past two or so years, but…”

“It still looks bad, I know, I know. I’m not going to try to tell you some bullshit excuse or sob story. I did a lot of shit I shouldn’t have for a lot of reasons. I regret most of it, not all of it, but most of it. Lloyd and Caroline helped me get my life back on track, I know two years doesn’t seem like a long time, but I’m not the same kid I was when I did that shit.”

That what she tells him, but she’s not sure how much she believes it. It feels more like her situation’s changed than she’s changed, but if she just said that she’s no longer a delinquent because she doesn’t need to be, well, it wouldn’t sound as good or employable.

“What made you wanna be a cop?”

“Wanted to help people,” she answers with a shrug, it’s not really anything more complicated than that. Whitehorse huffs out what sounds like a laugh, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Okay, I gotta ask, why here? Lloyd and the whole town loves you. It’s a hell of a move and the pay raise ain’t much.”

“Look,” she sighs and folds her hands on top of her motorcycle helmet, calming her body down, “I love Reinette, I love Lloyd and I love Caroline. I owe them and the whole town a debt that I’ll never pay back. But, I’m twenty years old. I’m not their kid and even if I was it’d be time for me to go, I’ve taken enough of their time, money, and everything. Reinette, bless the town’s heart, it’s...dying. There’s more cows than people, our station has more cars than officers. It won’t be long before they do away with the town’s department and just do everything through the Parish. And the parish’s department doesn’t need any more officers.”

Her throat constricts as bile raises in the back of it, her stomach churning. After everything that town and its people have done for her, she’s leaving them. A traitor, betrayer.

“You figure any of those officers will even find work in the parish, at all?” He asks with a knowing, soft look in his eye. If he keeps in contact with Lloyd, he’s already well aware of the trouble in Reinette.

“I doubt it, town’s a sinking ship. Lloyd…he’s willing to go down with it,” her eyes sting and she clenches her jaw, containing herself, “I can’t do that. As much as they all mean to me, I can’t. Lloyd’s gonna retire when it goes under, I’m twenty, the fuck am I supposed to do? I’m trying to help people; I’m trying to make a difference. But my hands keep getting tied because of money, resources, anything and everything. Lloyd and Caroline gave me the means and the tools to make something of myself, I’m not gonna piss that away because some fucker decided we weren’t worth investing in, I…”

She’s clenching her fists and nearly smacking her helmet, anger and frustration welling up inside of her, a geyser of emotions threatening to break through. This is an interview, she can’t do this, can’t be emotional. She needs to stop this, a deep breath before she starts to speak again.

“I can do more here, I know no place is perfect, but I can do more here.”

“Well, no one can say you’re not passionate.” Whitehorse lets out another chuckle, seemingly amused.

“Sorry, certain shit, just winds me up.” She massages the back of her neck, why is she such a fucking idiot? No one wants to hire a cop who can’t keep their cool and throws a fit. She was supposed to tone down her dumbassery, not ramp it up.

“There’s nothing wrong with caring about what you’re doing.”

“Yeah…” She half-heartedly agrees, Whitehorse is trying to make her feel better. Her interview has become him trying to console her, absolutely pathetic. She might as well call Lloyd and Caroline now and tell them she blew it.

“You got any questions for me?”

“Uh…”

Did she just fuck this up as bad as she thinks she did?

“Not really, I just wanna get to work.” That earns her another chuckle from Whitehorse, even if he doesn’t think she’s competent, at least she’s entertaining it seems.

“Full of piss and vinegar, ain’t ya?”

“To say the least.” She lets out a dry laugh, but there’s no mirth of joy behind it. Not a shred of happiness as she thinks about what a fucking idiot she is.

“Well, if that’s all,” Whitehorse stands up from his desk, “I’ll go ahead and show you out.”

Dahlia stands up, the sheriff places a large hand on her back as they leave his office, finding their way back into the reception area.

“It was nice to finally meet you, Hale.”

“Same, thanks for taking the time to talk to me.” She’s sure that he’d rather be doing literally anything else, especially after that beyond trash interview.

“It’s no problem at all, I-”

The doors to the department open, a man and a woman in green deputy uniforms coming in. Another giant, the man is barely an inch of two shorter than Whitehorse, with shaggy dark hair and hazel eyes. More importantly, the woman while taller doesn’t absolutely tower over Dahlia, her long black hair is braided over her shoulder and her olive skin makes her hunter green eyes stand out all the more.

Dahlia’s throat feels tight and her heart race is a little faster. So…that’s a thing.

“We running a daycare, now?” The guy asks, looking down his nose at Dahlia, though that might just be because of the height difference. Either way, she glares at him, he’s been around her a grand total of five seconds and he’s being a dick.

“Pratt…” The woman, her name tag says J. Hudson, rolls her eyes at him. Her voice is warm and rich; why is Dahlia’s face so hot? Is she sick? Has the Montana weather already kicked her ass, what is this?

“This is one of the interviewees. Hale, these are my deputies.”

“Nice to meet you.” Hudson flashes a soft smile and what is Dahlia’s heart doing? It’s like someone’s squeezing it and filled her gut with bugs while they were at it. She fucks up an interview and now she needs a doctor, great.

“Same, I was, uh, just on my way out actually.” She needs to go sleep off whatever the fuck has just hit her.

“Good luck,” the taller woman gives a friendly tap to Dahlia’s bicep, “hopefully we’ll be seeing more of you around here.”

Dahlia is dying.

That’s the only explanation. She fucked up an interview and now she has the heart plague or some shit, hell of a day.

“Uh, yeah, I, um, ‘preciate it.” She’s avoiding eye contact and she doesn’t know why she's stumbling over her words and she doesn’t know why.

“Pssh,” Pratt scoffs, “she’s gonna need it.”

Suddenly, she can talk again. Weird. Hudson and Whitehorse shake their heads, clearly use to his bullshit

“Sorry about Pratt, he’s, well he’s Pratt.”

“Eh, every station has at least one cop who’s just trying to make up for his tiny dick.”

“I assure you, I-”

“Enough,” Whitehorse cuts him off, talking like he’s breaking up a child’s squabbling. Doesn’t really help make her look any more mature or competent, way to steer into the skid, Dahlia.

“For the millionth time, no one wants to hear about your dick, Pratt.” Hudson rolls her eyes, why is that being said for the millionth time?

“Well, that’s certainly my cue to go, have a good one.”

Dahlia quickly waves off the sheriff and deputies, making her escape. She takes the couple steps to her motorcycle with quick rigid movement, making sure she’s away from windows or the glass door, not wanting any of them to see her.

She lets out a low guttural groan muffled by how tightly her jaw is clenched jaw and knocks her knuckles against the back of her head.

Idiot, she fucked everything up by going on some huge ass fucking rant.

Despite the distance, this was a phenomenal opportunity the best she’s had. It’s not like she hasn’t looked into place in Louisiana, but something is always wrong. She’s never made it as far as the interview. Either she never gets a call back, maybe they’d seen her records the same way Whitehorse did and didn’t even bother giving her that chance. Or she’d learn the town, parish, city, whatever was no better off than Reinette. One of the sheriffs she talked to on the phone knew her stepfather and recognized her name, nearly making her puke before she hung up.

This was beyond a shadow of a doubt the best chance she’s had. Whitehorse has the Lloyd seal of approval which is as good as gold. And as much as the distance is guilt inducing…, the fear of betrayal and abandoning people who mean so much to her. But, she needs somewhere far away.

As many good memories as Lloyd, Caroline, and the people of Reinette have given her. There are still too many bad ones, too many people figuring out where she came from, one too many bad memories trying to be more than just that. As much as it may eat her up to leave, it’ll eat her up even more to stay. Between the impending unemployment and her own past, every good moment there has a shadow looming over it.

When she gets back to Reinette she’ll start working to get her record taken care of. Once that’s settled, it’s back to job hunting. A bump in the road, a moment of frustration, but she’ll come out the other end. She always does.

Her stomach growls, burning through a pack of cigarettes and stress binge eating sound like a great way to deal with this. She’ll find some place to stuff her face and call Lloyd once she gets back to the hotel.

There’s a general store, she doesn’t know if the bar lets minors in, so it’s probably her best place to grab some quick snack. She plops her helmet on and makes the short drive to the store, parking her bike outside and pulling her helmet back off to light a cigarette by the dumpsters. Her stressed brain is desperately craving nicotine.

She rips open her pack of cigarettes and lights one up, bringing it to her lips. Smoke pools in her lungs, clawing to her insides and easing her nerves if only for a second. Holding it there for a moment before breathing it out into the air. Her eyes are drawn to the neon sign of The Spread Eagle bar, even bright in the daylight. It also seems to have some activity despite the early hour. Well, early for a bar. A white truck pulls up in front of the building, a man with long grungy hair climbing out of the passenger seat.

Those odd pains in her chest and churns in her stomach fade as she inhales the smoke, looking up at the clear blue sky. A soft breeze blows through, carrying the gray trails away with it. Montana really is beautiful…

“Get back here!” A woman yells out, door to the bar swinging open violent as the man with long hair comes rushing back out, arms piled high with crates of alcohol.

Dahlia drops her cigarette and helmet, bolting towards the bar, as the thief tries to scramble into the back of the pickup truck. He gets the crates set down, but she’s grabbed the back of his shirt before he can climb in. A harsh yank, pulling the tall man back into her and away from the truck. She encircles her arms under his armpits and locks her hands behind his neck, grappling into a full nelson hold that keeps him from running off. The odd angle of these heights and the way he was yanked from the back of the truck leaves him on his knees in his grasp.

“Someone call the sheriff’s department!” She yells out, she doesn’t have any jurisdiction here or cuffs to actually arrest the guy.

He tries to fight back against the hold, attempting to break free, but all he manages to do is writhe and squirm. The door of the truck swings open, the driver jumping out, his feet hitting the ground with a heavy sound. Another man easily a foot or more taller than her.

“Help me, brother Theodore,” the man in her hold struggles to beg for help.

“We have strict orders from John Seed to confiscate this liquor.”

“Don’t know or care who that is, mon cher.”

“Someone like you doesn’t deserve to know him,” the guy tells her, sneering and she sees his finger twitch, brushing over the gun in his belt holster. She can’t have firearms going off in a residential area.

“All you’ll do is end up shootin’ your friend, don’t be stupid. Liquor ain’t worth bloodshed.”

He lets out a sigh and his hand relax, something clicking in his mind. The man, Theodore, chews his lip, eyes flickering as she nearly sees the gears turning in his head.

“What’s going on here?” A familiar rough voice asks over Dahlia’s shoulder, she doesn’t need to look to know Whitehorse has come to investigate. Even if she did, she wouldn’t dare look away from the man in front of her, not until she’s sure he won’t try to shoot.

“These pieces of shit peggies were trying to steal my liquor stash,” a woman explains, somewhere behind Dahlia.

“Liquors still in the back of the truck,” Dahlia tells them, none of it seemed to break, so hopefully it won’t hurt the bar too much.

“If it wasn’t for her, they would have cost me a month’s worth of sales.”

“Pratt, Hudson,” Whitehorse calls the names of his deputies.

“I got it here,” Hudson taps on Dahlia arm, cuffs in hand, and that weird heart thing is happening again.

“Um, yeah, o-of course.” She maneuvers away from the guy, she’s never stumbled over her words like that before. Hudson cuffs the guy and starts reading his rights off.

“Keep your hands where I can see ‘em,” Pratt barks out at the Theodore guy who's surprisingly obedient as he lets the deputy cuff him.

Dahlia scratches at her nose, watching the scene unfold. She’s finally gotten a good look at the woman who was being robbed.

And, not only is everyone here tall, they’re also apparently beautiful. The woman is than both Dahlia and Hudson, with honey blonde hair tucked up into a bun and soft blue eyes. Her features are soft, cherubic almost, with freckles over the bridge of her nose.

Have women always been this pretty?

When did women start being this pretty?

The fuck is her heart doing?

“Looks like it’s a good thing you were here,” Whitehorse tells her, a soft smile tugging at his lips, “you managed to get Mary May’s liquor back and stopped it from escalating.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess.”

“Someone you know, sheriff?” The blonde, Mary May asks. His smile gets wider and he squeezes Dahlia’s shoulder, a comforting touch.

“This is my new Junior Deputy.”

“I am?”

He’s not serious, there’s no way, he has to be fucking with her.

“Unless you changed your mind?”

“Hell no,” she shakes her head, “I am the new Junior Deputy, wait, Junior?”

“You’ll start with a six-month probationary hire, paid of course, manage that and we’ll take you on permanently.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“You’ll start next, c’mon down to the station Mary, we’ll book ‘em and get your report in.”

“See you around, stranger,” Mary May tells her as she follows after Whitehorse, Hudson and Pratt forcing the thieves along. Theodore shooting a glare Dahlia’s way.

“Look forward to working with you, Rookie.”

“Pfft, I give her a week, tops.”

And with that, Dahlia is left alone on the road of Falls End…with a new job.

She got the job.

She’s got to get through the probationary hire, but she got the job. Holy shit. Holy shit. And she starts in a week. She needs to call Lloyd and Caroline, she needs to find somewhere to live, there’s so much to do.

Dahlia is practically skipping back over to her helmet and bike. She’s gotta start getting her ducks in a row.

She speeds her way back through Hope County, making her way back to the hotel. She has so many fucking calls to make and shit to go through. Before she knows it she’s back in the Kings Spring Hotel parking lot, fumbling to get her phone. As silly as it may be, she’d rather call Lloyd and Caroline in a less populated area. She’s grinning ear to ear, enough to hurt her cheeks, she looks like a dork and that’s not going to get any better. Helmet under her arm, she dials Lloyd as she paces in the isolated parking lot.

“How’d it go?” Lloyd is asking before she even says hi.

“Six months, probationary hire, then we’ll go from there.”

‘So, you got the job?”

“That was the bummer way of saying I got the job, yeah.”

“I can hear you smiling!”

“Shut it!”

“Caroline! She got the job, yeah!”

“I,” she rubs a hand down her face, “I thought for sure I blew it.”

“What changed?”

“Some bar across the street got robbed right after my interview, I stepped in, next thing I know I’m the Junior Deputy.”

“Holy fuck, do you know what that is, Stray?”

“Dumb luck?”

“Fate, Stray, it’s fucking fate! The world telling you that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be!”

“You really are a sap, ain’t ya?”

“What are you doing now?”

“I’m staying another night here, but once I hop off I gotta start looking into where I’m gonna stay. I start in a week, so I gotta start moving, I’ll see you all in two or three days once I make the drive. It’s gonna be tight, but I’ll manage.”

“Man, you’re really leaving.”

“No crying.”

“Seems like yesterday Caroline found you in the barn.”

“No crying.”

“You were so thin, just a little bag of bones…” His voice is choking up.

“I’m hanging up, you cry baby!”

She does just that, smiling up at the sky. It’s happening, it’s really happening. It feels like the start of a new life, a new her. There’s a jump in her step as she makes her way back into the hotel, room service food and she’ll start making phone calls.

“Miss Hale!” The soft lilted voice of the receptionist calls out when she sees Dahlia.

“Oh, hey.” Dahlia walks to the desk, head tilted in question, what could she need?

“A heads up, we’re switching the water in the tank for the shower and bath system to water pumped in from the spring.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“It’s so much more relaxing than regular tap water, be sure to use it tonight.”

“Uh yeah, thanks, by the way can I order some room service?”

“Of course.”

Dahlia goes through her order for room service, being assured the order will be put in and delivered before she knows it. With that she goes back up to her room, she starts digging through the bedside drawer, searching for a phone book for the area. There’s a white book in the top drawer, with that same strange cross like symbol that was on the signs along the bridge. She throws it on the bed, finding a local phone book beneath it, much more important.

She starts rifling through pages. Hope County is mostly a trailer park town, for people who can’t afford to build or buy an actual home and land. There is an apartment complex in Falls End, but the rent is high for pretty small apartments. The prices probably jacked since housing is so limited. She’d rather get a whole trailer to herself for cheaper and just travel further for work.

Hours pass by her making phone calls, seeing about housing and stuffing food in her face when she’s not talking. The Silver Lake Trailer Park that’s nearest the station has no vacancy or trailers available for rent, but they refer her to the Moonflower Trailer Park. It’s some distance, but with how fast she rides her bike, it’s doable. It’s the only place with vacancy, she’ll drop by with a down payment and check out the trailer tomorrow before she heads back to Louisiana to get her stuff and everything tidied up there. The world outside the hotel window has gone dark, moon hanging bright in the sky.

That settled she finishes off her food and collapses back on the bed. She’s still smiling, grinning ear to ear.

“Wooooooo!” She yells out and pumps her fist up at the ceiling, fuck yeah, she’s got this.

She’ll grab one of those spring water showers and then pass out for the night. She grabs her phone and sets it up to play music in the bathroom while she washes up. Her clothes hit the floor, air conditioner chilling her skin as she waits for the water to heat up. It has a soft floral scent and is tinted slightly green, spring water.

She steps in under the hot spray of water, letting it wash away the sweat and dirt of the day. Her muscles relax under the water and steam, as she scrubs the hotel soap into her skin. She blinks her eyes open once she’s done washing her hair, finding her vision clouding, her body feeling heavier and heavier. Must be the exhaustion of the day. Dahlia quickly finishes washing, the last thing she needs is to fall asleep in the shower again.

Her steps are shaky, her body swaying as the world swims around her. Colors distort and shift in prisms before her eyes. It’s like the night before, but times a million. Her movements sluggish as she dries herself and quickly pulls on her sleep clothes. She was feeling ill earlier, maybe it’s catching up to her? But it doesn’t feel the same. Not panicky and nervous. One of her favorite songs starts to play through her phone, though its eerie tones aren’t as welcomed in this moment.

She grips the sink for leverage, steadying herself as she looks into the mirror

All our times have come.

Her dark brown eyes aren’t dark brown, not quite. She tugs at her eyelids, the iris growing milkier and lighter than she’s ever seen it. What the hell is this? A soft melodic laugh echoes through the room, like it’s near.

Here but now they're gone.

She stumbles out of the bathroom, finding her empty bedroom. Nothing unusual.

Seasons don't fear the reaper.

The laugh rings out again, a flash of white passing by her open door. When did it open? She didn’t leave it open.

Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain...

She’s walking out her door before she can give it another thought, looking back and forth across the hall, who’s there?

We can be like they are

Her feet pad down the hallway, steps suddenly sure and confident as she tries to follow the voice. Like her body is being drawn, pulled, following sheer instinct. She needs to find them.

Come on baby... don't fear the reaper

A flash of white, the swish of lace fabric, that laugh again vanishing into one of the rooms. Dahlia is there, trying to wrench open the door. Then it rings out from behind her.

Baby take my hand... don't fear the reaper

A woman stands at the end of a long hallway, the one from the tight before. Long sandy hair and beautiful green eyes. A blue butterfly perches itself on her fingers, the woman looking at it in awe. Dahlia takes slow steps forward, she wants to speak, ask who she is and what she’s doing here. But her tongue is heavy, her throat tight, vocal cords numb, not a sound escaping.

Baby I'm your man...

Green eyes flicker from the butterfly to Dahlia, a soft almost mischievous smile tugging at the woman’s lips. She laughs again as Dahlia nears her, then she runs, childish and giggling she runs towards one of the rooms. Dahlia is chasing her even after she vanishes from sight, legs moving without her permission, instinct driving her to reach this woman. She doesn’t know why, but she needs to reach her, touch her. Be closer.

La la la la la

The laughter turns into soft humming, singing echoing through the halls. Somehow the sound is everywhere, all consuming and right in her ear, but also distant the source too far away for her to find. She walks down the halls, taking turns and climbing up stairs, following her instinct that pulls her in each direction she goes.

Valentine is done

Flashes of white fabric, doors closing and shutting. It’s a game of tag that she can’t seem to win, the small hotel has somehow become a labyrinth as she tries to find the humming woman. Short hallways and few rooms have been traded for never ending paths with room lining them.

Here but now they're gone

Sometimes spacious and open, other times claustrophobic, choking, walls scraping the skin of her arms where she has to fear she might become stuck. More halls and more floors than she’s ever seen, winding paths that make her dizzy. But she can’t stop searching for that woman.

Romeo and Juliet

One more turn, the woman is at the end of a hallway. Standing before a door, softly singing to what is now two butterflies balanced on her fingers. Dahlia starts to walk down the hallway, tight, claustrophobic. She keeps her hands on the walls as if it will give her more space, as if she could force the walls to open wider for her.

Are together in eternity...Romeo and Juliet

Her heartbeat races as she walks closer and closer, the walls threatening to crush her between them. She can hardly breathe, every breath ragged and tight. Dying. She feels like she’s dying, air being stolen from her lungs and heart pounding lie it’s trying to escape her chest. It worsens with every step she takes near the woman.

40,000 men and women everyday... Like Romeo and Juliet

Some part of her brain, the small part that doesn’t have a thick haze of fog clinging to it, tells her to run the other way. That with this feeling only growing with every step towards the siren, with her heart pounding harsher, breathing getting raspier, she’ll die if she keeps going. That this truly is a siren luring her to death, but she can’t listen to that part of her. Her body won’t. She needs to reach her.

40,000 men and women everyday... Redefine happiness

She’s getting closer and closer; the woman isn’t running this time. Just calming singly, like she doesn’t even notice Dahlia. She tries to reach out for the woman, her fingers nearly brushing the woman’s dress sleeve.

Another 40,000 coming everyday... We can be like they are

Then the woman walks through the door, Dahlia could curse and cry if her vocal cords would only work. Once again, the woman evading her, being just out of reach. But this hall has no doors along its sides, no turns or twists. The only two options are going back or going through the door after her. It’s not even a choice.

Come on baby... don't fear the reaper

She wrenches the door open and she’s in another world. No more wood walls and floors, her bare feet touching lush grass that tickles her skin. White petals float in the air and scatter across the ground. Trees curl around the area and when she looks out at the horizon, she sees that large statue of that man looming over the area.

Baby take my hand... don't fear the reaper

When she looks straight ahead at the middle of the field is the woman, she twirls, short white dress fanning out around her hips. She stops, turning to face Dahlia, she smiles softly. Delicate and angel like, she stretches her hand out. An offer, a beckoning.

We'll be able to fly... don't fear the reaper

The feeling of impending death lifts the very moment she sees the woman. Her heartbeat and her breathing easing, relief and contentment filling her body. She’s smiling and she doesn’t know why she feels alive. Free, like she can do anything. She’s walking closer and closer to the woman, each step making her happier and happier. Her body lighter and lighter. Calm and peace, she’s never known. She’s right where she belongs, she doesn’t need to be anywhere else.

Dahlia reaches out, finally about to touch her, a touch of their hands is so simple, so minor. But it feels like the only thing she wants. All she’s ever want, like every moment in her entire life has been building up to this, being here with her, whoever she is.

Before skin can meet skin, the siren fades to mist.

No, no, no!

She grasps desperately at the air where the woman once was, her heart racing, her lungs stinging like the airs been knocked out of them. The world is crumbling, falling down, everything going out beneath her feet. It’s falling apart and she can’t stop it, she can’t fix it.

Dahlia takes a heavy gasp, desperately sucking in a heavy breath and she blinks, the world around her has completely shifted. Her vision isn’t blurred, no more prisms of color before her eyes.

Cold, goosebumps raising up on her skin, shorts and tee doing nothing to save her from the Montana breeze. She’s outside the hotel, in the world she knows. That damn statue looming still in the distance ahead of her.

Dull.

The landscaped she was so mesmerized by this day, seems so dull now. She feels dull, after so many emotions, so much intensity both in fear and happiness…she feels so numb. Dahlia rubs her fingers together, her craving for the feeling of another’s hand in her own…there’s an ache. She was so close, but now she’s been plunged back into reality.

She stands out in the field outside the hotel, staring at that cement statue, it still seems to call her. Her heart telling her to go towards that looming structure, but her head tells her to go back inside the hotel.

So, she doesn’t move.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, just staring.

“Miss Hale!” A voice pulls her further back into reality, the hotel receptionist walking out towards her with a large blanket.

Dahlia blinks a few times, she no longer feels numb, the very real emotion of shame flooding in. She’s standing out in public, in her pajamas. Did she just wander out of her hotel room in her sleep clothes? She must look ridiculous.

“Hey…”

“Is everything alright? You just walked out of your hotel, looked like you were sleepwalking.”

“Uh…yeah, I guess.”

That makes sense, she must have went to bed and had a weird dream…yeah.

“Here,” the woman wraps the large blanket around Dahlia, “you must be freezing.”

“Thanks, sorry, I, just, weird dream.” She murmurs as they walk back to the hotel, Dahlia giving one last glance at the hotel.

“Dreams are nice, aren’t they? Sometimes you just wanna stay there forever.”

#far cry 5 #fc5 #joseph seed #john seed #faith seed #jacob seed #deputy oc #This Is Love #Dahlia Hale

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kpopshitposter · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! Could I please request a written "how he would ask you out" scenario for N.Flying Jaehyun? Thank you so much!

Hi!!! Yes, of course. Thank you for your patience with this during the busy festive period!! I hope you like it.

Female reader x Jaehyun x Cha Hun (mention)

Warnings: none

It’s New Year’s Day and Jaehyun has an important question to ask... in a... very creative way...

My masterlist

Recently, you’ve been inseparable. You’ve learnt each other’s habits and the rhythm of his breathing has become a lullaby.

You’ve spent whole weekends together, you’ve had 10 hour-long phone conversations. At this point, Hun keeps making jokes about you two being soulmates. He jokes about stealing you from Jaehyun, who will then cling to you and kick at his bandmate.

It doesn’t bother you, really. Despite how much you pretend to be annoyed and jokingly grossed out by the thought of going out with Jaehyun… somewhere along the way you developed feelings for him.

Jaehyun was always there whenever you needed someone. He always knew how to cheer you up, and he even knew when to be serious. He was so charismatic and incredible to watch whenever he played the drums. He was mesmerising in all aspects of life. He looked gorgeous now that his hair was longer, he was talented, he was fun, he was sincere in everything he did and said…

It was why when he invited you to spend New Year’s Day with him, you didn’t have to think twice.

You spent hours deciding what to wear and in the end severely overdressed. It was just you and him, and he answered the door in jogging bottoms.

It’s just you, after all. Just his close friend.

The reminder stung a little… but you were still happy to be there with him.

He squeezed you tightly and welcomed you in, whistling at you playfully as you walked past.

He offered you a drink before holding out a little gift for you.

“... What’s this?” you smiled as you took the cutely wrapped present in his hands. It was a little box. “Is something gonna jump out at me?”

“Maaaaaybe. Open it!”

Your smile is impossible to control as you unwrap the unexpected present (but you do so VERY carefully, ready for a snake to spring out). “I didn’t get you anything, though…” oh. You looked at the present in confusion. “It’s a… deck of cards to play charades with?”

“Oh? Is it?! Sounds fun! Let’s play!” he took the deck from you and started to open it.

This was weird, but you’ve seen him act weirder.

You’ve learnt how to go with the flow.

You adjust your seat and watch him shuffle the deck and take the top card. He reads it and then puts it down. He starts to make hearts with his hands and throws them at you.

“Love? Hearts?!”

Wrong!

It’s… he counts on his fingers and wiggles his hand.

“Five words!”

Yes!

He throws more hearts, and now kisses, and starts spinning around and talking to an imaginary person on the phone and… you’re getting a headache.

“Okay, okay… wait… what is this?? A movie? A book?”

He shakes his head and crosses his arms - no, no, no. He starts to shrug, palms to the ceiling, looking all confused and bewildered.

“Is - huh?!”

He pretends to throw something at you.

“Don’t blame me for your terrible charade skills! Do it from the beginn- oh- uh-”

He holds up five fingers.

“Five words!”

He nods and shows two fingers.

“Second word!”

He points at you.

“Me. Person. Friend. You!”

He nods and you cheer.

Third word.

He points to fingers up from his head and starts to run around the room.

“Crazy person?!”

He chucks a pillow at you.

“Bull! Cow?!”

He rushes towards a vase full of flowers and starts to poke his nose into it. He wiggles his hips and moves one pointing finger to his bum.

“Uh- fly? BEE?!”

Yes! You got it.

“You bee? ... Are you on drugs?”

He’s going to ignore that. First word.

He starts doing some very crazy pulling gesture, straining his face like -

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! JAE- TELEKINESIS? Pull? Closer? Hug? CRAZY PERSON?!”

Nope, nope, NOPE!!

Ok… he tugs on his ear.

“Listening? Hearing? Loud- OH! SOUNDS LIKE?”

Yes!!!!

He points two fingers at thin air and pretend to shoot, only to then move in front of where the gun would have been pointing and fall on the ground.

“GUN? SHOOT? WAR?!?”

He gives you a dirty look and shouts your name in annoyance.

He reenacts it again and then once on the floor points to himself.

“DEAD! BODY! DEATH! WAR?”

Shuffling over across the floor he grabs your ankle and pulls off your sock, no matter how much you try to pull away he holds you tightly. You’re whipped with the sock and sent into a laughing fit.

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry! Give me my sock back you weirdo!”

Returning your sock to your foot he stands up again and gestures for you to PAY. ATTENTION. The scene is done again. Sounds like… someone shooting someone.

“OH-OH! SHOOT? UHH… MURDER!” you’re on the right track, his eyes tell you, “SOUNDS LIKE MURDER? WURDER? BLURD- Oh that’s not the right word? Die- KILL! Yes! OKAY. Bill? Fill? Gill? Chill!!! Pill?! Will? WILL! Which word is this again?! The first - WILL YOU BEE? HUH?!”

You sit more comfortably. It’s getting serious now.

Fifth word.

Two syllables.

First syllable.

He starts pointing at you again.

“YOU?” No! “Person! Human! Friend!” he looks physically pained, but no.

Okay, quit that.

He looks around the room and rushes over to take two clean plastic cups from the stack (nobody wanted to do the dishes, okay?!) and starts to stuff them down his top. He adjusts them with his back to you.

“What are you doing?!”

He places them horizontally on his chest. He turns suddenly and you burst into laughter.

“Madonna?!” you manage between laughs as you watch him pop his chest out with his new fake boobs. “I can’t - I can’t-” oh, are you crying?! Why is he so ridiculous?! “Woman!” CLOSE! He gestures. “Girl!? Girl! Oh - Will you bee something girlsomething? Oh! Oh! WILL YOU BE MY GIRLFRIEND?!”

Yes!

He yanks the cups out of his top and throws them at you! “YAAAAH! FINALLY!”

You stand with joy, clapping and smiling. “Okay! My turn!”

“... What?”

“It’s my turn! I got your one. Sit down.”

He stares at you and then crouches to reach for your ankles, “Give me your sock again!”

“What?!” you step away, trying to get out of his reach and run from him. He follows you, calling you to stop.

“Yah! Give me your sock! You need to be punished!”

“For WHAT?!”

Uh oh - you’ve run into a dead end. You’re cornered by him in the kitchen, up against the counter. Can you run around the table? You’re quickly trying to think of an escape when you realise… he’s… slowed down.

He’s walking towards you, suddenly seeming… nervous.

“Jaehyun? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t reply as he keeps edging forward. You’re frozen - partially wondering if this is a trick. It wouldn’t be the first time he faked an emotion to tackle you with tickles or something equally inane.

“Jaehyun…” you squint.

He says your name.

“What was the answer, again?”

You cough. “Will you… be my girlfriend…”

“Then what the hell?” he said it softly with a little laugh.

“You… what…”

He’s right in front of you now.

“Answer the question.”

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t. Will you?”

“Will I what?” You do know what he’s saying. You understand what he’s implying… you think. You don’t want to assume anything, though. You don’t want to be wrong. You don’t want to make it obvious how hard your heart is pounding, how violently it’s racing.

He says your name and leans closer to you.

“How do you do that?” you whisper.

“Do what?”

“You go from being all goofy… to… this. You do it all the time.”

“What’s ‘this’?”

You clear your throat. Look at the way he’s looking at you. When he gets all soft like this, with his hair framing his face in this way… it’s like he’s a different person. Although… he’s beautiful either way. But he’s not a serious person, this isn’t like him.

“Jaehyun… don’t joke about this, it’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.” and he looked quite hurt that you thought he was. “I’ve thought about it for a while and… I want to start this year with you.”

“It’s not funny, Jaehyun. Stop it.”

“How can I convince you I mean it?”

You had to think of something wild. Something he wouldn’t do. Drink something off. Eat something super spicy. Tell your sister you love her.

“Kiss me.”

“Huh?”

“If you mean it, you’d kiss me, right? You’d want to anyway. Go on then. Kiss me if you’re actually asking.”

“Where?”

You wanted to say your lips. You wanted to believe for a second that it could be real. You held up the back of your hand.

“My hand.”

“That’s easy.” he takes the hand and moves even closer to you, leaning his face towards yours. “Let me prove it properly. I know I’ve made jokes like this before and Hun has, too, but I mean it.” He laces your fingers together and you stiffen. You know he felt you freeze when he asks: “Do you still want me to? Are you nervous?”

He’s so close you can hear his breathing and see each detail of his face. It was becoming a little too much. “I believe you now, you don’t have to do it.”

“Is it because the answer is no?”

You hesitate. “Are you really asking me, Jaehyun? Like, seriously serious? Seriously?”

He flicks your forehead with his free hand. It reminds you that you’re holding on to one another tightly.

“You’re making me feel weird! Stop making this awkward! Just answer the question!” You laugh even though you actually feel like crying and hiding under the dining table.

“I mean - I - what if it ruins our friendship?”

“Hmm. What if it doesn’t?”

“What if it does? What if we break up?”

“What if we don’t?”

“What if you end up hating me?”

“What if I end up loving you?” you pause. “That was really smooth, wasn’t it?”

Laughing, you push at his chest a little. Gently. So gently. You don’t really want him to move away.

“Answer the question! Answer the queeeeestion. Answer meeeee. Ansssssswer. Aaaaaaanswer. Answer! Answer the question. Answer, answer, ans-”

“Okay! Yes. Yes. Y- Yeah. Jaehyun. I will be your girlfriend.”

“Realy?!” He snatches up your other hand.

“Ugh. Yeah, Jaehyun. I’ve kinda liked you for a while now… I just… I like being around you so much I didn’t want to say anything.”

He laughs and pulls you in for a tight hug.

“So today is our first day?”

“I guess so,” you laugh shyly, “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year.”

#n.flying oneshot #reader x jaehyun #nflying scenarios #jaehyun scenarios #nflying imagines #jaehyun imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #open kpop scenario requests #Anonymous

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tamgerines · 6 years ago

Text

KH3 First Impression and Complete Thoughts

BACKGROUND: i've played kh1, com, kh2, bbs, 2.8, and a bit of khux. i've watched coded and 3d on yt, so i know the story relatively well. this is an impression of my first playthrough. i did my run on standard mode and watched the secret ending on yt. i mostly did this for story, so this will have my initial impressions based on my run that will not cover extra content like the phone mini games and cooking. my opinions are subjected to change if i ever do any later playthroughs. pls, feel free to disagree w/ me.

!!! WARNING: THERE WILL BE A LOT OF STORY SPOILERS!!!

AUDIO:

Music: utada is queen!!! that opening song!!! also i kept noticing how lit the songs are in each world esp frozen??? and aqua's. worth a replay just for the soundtrack alone.

Voice Acting: everyone sounded great for the most part. sora’s va have certainly improved and sounds less strained. his vanitas voice has suffered significantly though lolololol. i think i read that someone called it a wannabe dark knight voice? the organization sounded incredible, w/ my fav being xemnas, marluxia, and larxene. the disney and pixar va’s are incredible w/ my fav probably being randall in monster’s inc.

some ppl did not get vas like xaldin and laxeaus. and phil in hercules. which were all very disappointing bc in the scenes that they were in, they would just stand around woodenly, and it’s very noticeable.

VISUALS:

mostly a+. environments are beautiful. water and frost textures are amazing!!! you can really feel that waterga and blizzaga. fur textures in monster's inc. could use some work. little details like the sails moving in potc rly make the worlds come alive. this could be a me prob, but environments in certain worlds make it very hard to see map markers, treasure chests, and disney emblems (which are supposed to be hard to find, but still). mostly in tangled.

strangely enough, this is the only game where i prefer in game graphics to cgi. it's already highly expressive and there's something creepy and uncanny about the cgi esp in the final fight. and it's mostly bc sora's thin chapped lips throughout the entire game suddenly becomes full.

DESIGNS:

i don't love everyone's outfit or sora's outfit changes in this game besides toy story. this is something i alrdy knew going in, but i've always felt like the outfits in kh1 and 2 rly suited each of the character's personalities. and this is not just destiny trio but even chars like roxas, the twilight town kids and the hollow bastion crew. the move towards a uniformed look makes no sense to me like is it to unify the key bearers as one force against the organization? i could understand why destiny trio was wearing plaid but why the twilight town kids also? by the end of the game, almost everyone was wearing black and it's just boring to me. like there's a right way to do uniform while retaining characters' individual looks, and that's the wayfinder trio in bbs. in this game, not so much.

an aside, but i'm sort of disappointed in the hud moving to 3d too. the 2d portraits have always been part of kh so it's kinda a bum to see it go away.

i don't love the lvl designs but it might also be due to a narrative and pacing issue that i'll expand on. any case, vertical maps are a challenge to figure out. i don't consider myself bad at directions but there are so many moments, esp in hercules and tangled where i would be like where the heck do i go next (and i have the map) only for me to look up and find a shotlock teleport point (and this isn't so much a thing that heightens the difficulty but a time waster).

lvls and bosses in previous kh games have always been known for their gimmicks and mechanics, but in this game particularly i found it to be more tedious? and this mostly applies to frozen: who the fuck designed frozen? who the fuck thought it's a good lvl design to have sora climb a mountain, get kick off it twice, and climb it again as good lvl design? who?

all the disney bosses started blending together for me bc they're literally all giant monsters and rly easy. i think the mistake here is the fact that the disney worlds are put back to back whereas in kh1/2/bbs you have the interruption of original worlds and an actually playable important parts to the main story, in this game all the important storyline in radiant garden are locked in cutscenes interspersed throughout the game between finishing disney worlds.

a lot of ppl might disagree w this, but i miss the cinematic reaction commands and limit attacks. we still have them but i find them to be on a much smaller scale in the form of drive finishers and situation commands, but i find them to be less imaginative in kh3 in order to be less """"disruptive""" to the gameplay. i've always found cinematics charming in previous games as a way to show sora interacting with his party members during combat. little things like beast putting a hand on sora's shoulder, aladdin leaning on him, or riku bumping his fist have a way of making the friendships he forms feel organic. outside of link commands/ summons, in this game, he........just throws a lot of ppl around or is thrown around?

GAMEPLAY:

already sort of went through parts of it in the previous section, but overall combat was smooth. i love how mobile sora is in this game. the improvement to his running speed and addition of all the mobile skills like dodge roll, super slide, flow motion, blizzard skating, etc. makes combat feel fast paced and juking so easy.

magic is super improved on ever since 2.8 and feels satisfying to use esp bc i feel like ur given a lot more mp now and with the ability to save the last of your mana for cure, it feels like you're not always budgeting your magic.

underwater combat was smoother than i expected.

it's a mistake putting almost all the commands on the triangle button. there's so much options you can do in combat and you'd mean to activate one thing, but then an attraction flow comes out and you just want to die. it gets a bit easier as i went on and got more used to the controls, but in general, i still think it's a mistake to not to have an ability or something to disable certain features like in kh2 fm.

gummy ships continue to be a thing. why. i don’t like how i have to turn the camera myself now ;;;.

i'm not a speedrunner or anything, so i can't say too much else about fighting. the physical combos to me did feel like he was spinning a bit too much tho.

STORY: oh, fucking boy.

i'm not mad, i'm not disappointed, and i'm not even surprised. i already knew that post bbs, kh has already departed far from the franchise i loved as a kid and still today, at least story wise. but let's walk through it.

Disney Worlds: the disney worlds was literally a retelling of their movies. and unlike in kh2 and bbs, where visits to disney worlds were split into two parts, with the first part following the disney story and the second part being heavily tied to the main kh story and thus having original content, the disney worlds in kh3 only get one long visit. and the integration of kh into disney was just done so poorly. remember how kh villains used to kidnap princesses? remember how they used to actually conspire to take disney characters' hearts and turn them dark? remember, you know, when they were still evil and actually interfered with the worlds? in almost every world in kh3, an org member just comes says vague menacing things to sora, calls him stupid, and then leaves. yeah. and oh, maleficent and pete looks for a black box only to not find it, and leaves. AND THEY DON'T DO ANYTHING ELSE FOR THE REST OF THE GAME.

the pixar worlds + bh6 were the only ones with any actual new content and they feel so fresh. i esp loveeeeeeeed toy story omg. the script was so good, funny, and heartwarming. the pixar consultants should have helped kh all the way tbh.

like previous games, there's an attempt for each disney world to thematically tie into the main kh story. in this game, it was as heavy handed as ever, probably even more so.

Original Worlds: onto the meat of kh, the main story was rushed up until the end. you have a slew of disney worlds, then bam, they slam you with all the human bosses and the important story stuff.

the ‘awakening’ of roxas, xion, and ventus were very rushed. you literally have one moment they’re no there then two seconds of white screen and all of a sudden they’re there.

there’s a shit ton of shoehorned character redemption arcs: vexen, demyx, saix, eraqus, xehanort, xemnas, ansem. all were done either offscreen or by some miracle, they reached an epiphany after sora beat his keyblade into their heads.

the only death scene that i actually liked, that a lot of ppl complained about, was vanitas bc yes, although i thought his character had so much potential, it was at least a consistent and sympathetic death. bless him, born a villain die a villain. same with xemnas bc i loved his last speech.

xehanort was a shitty villain through and through. no one understood his motivation; it’s like nomura took a page from thanos’ guide of how to write villains, gave him some stupid ass goal to have a keyblade war to restart the world, and then just have him...get everything he wanted? his estranged friend comes back in ghost form for whatever reason and is just like ok we’re cool man even tho u took my student and indirectly murdered me and then gets taken up to heart heaven, like O K. and like what’s the most frustrating is that it’s implied they’re keeping him as a villain??? bc fucking ymx is like ooohh imma just go back to my own time via time travel. it’s too late for u sora hurdur.

and the younger members of the organization, the ones that we do know were in khux. we don’t get to know how they became nobodies and they don’t get a redemption??? really???

you can tell they tried, TRIED, hard to give everyone closure. and they miserably failed to close plot points. they actually opened more. who the fuck is the unnamed girl in lea and isa’s storyline? why the fuck did you mention her if you were going to play the pronoun game and not name her??? what the fuck was in the black box??? why are they looking for it when no one know what’s in it??? why the fuck was repliku inside of riku the whole fucking time??? why have org members be norted if they can still have agency and choose to betray xehanort??? why the fuck was BOTH sora and riku in different worlds in the secret ending????? ? ? ?

and tho i’m very glad that wayfinder and sea salt trios get their happy ending, the destiny trio had their characters assassinated. kairi was teased to become an independent character of her own and fight alongside sora, only to get shafted to become a damsel in distress, again, literally replaced by xion in one of the last battles, AND referred to as ‘motivation’ for sora by xehanort lol. sora, the guy who’s always going my friends are my power, ONLY grieves about losing kairi, accrediting all of his strength ONLY TO HER. riku, who spent the first game desperately trying to get kairi’s heart back, and who protected her from saix in the second, suddenly doesn’t give a shit about her and is just there as sora’s moral support. it’s so frustrating that nomura has the audacity to say that this series is primarily about friendship and then pull this shit lol. it’s transparent.

CONCLUSION:

i think for me, the quintessential kh trilogy has always been kh1, com, and kh2. as far as i’m concerned, the story should have ended there for destiny trio. and it’s like nomura said, how he feels more sympathetic towards villains now, i think nomura’s ideas have outgrown his main character.

sora’s journey worked in 1, com, and 2 because he had an overarching goal to find kairi and riku and return home. not everyone has to understand heartless vs. nobodies or dark vs. light but at least, anyone can understand the desperation of saving your friends. when that framework is taken away, sora’s goals and motivations become unclear; he’s a kid and has little reason to be caught up in xehanort’s plans, the keyblade war, or the organization’s agendas. and his failure to grow with the increasing complexity of the plot, to investigate for himself the bigger picture or even come into a similar realization of his own darkness/ balance like riku, makes him unfit; he’s a reactionary character instead of an active one. that’s why this game, being experienced from his point of view, felt mostly like a catch up to speed for sora and a set up to nomura’s next big thing instead of a genuine ending. i honestly don’t think nomura knows what to do with him and with kingdom hearts anymore.

kh3 is a game wrapped in nostalgia and promised something bigger than it could fulfill. and aside from better graphics and improved gameplay, the story wasn’t worth the wait.

#kh3 spoilers #my thoughts #i didnt mean for my ramblings to get so long but #yeah im im sad

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imaginedilestrade · 7 years ago

Text

One of the boys.

Summary: You live in the middle of London with four boys; Greg, Sherlock, John and Mycroft. It was never going to be easy, especially after falling for the silver haired DI...

Warnings: swearing, Dolores being a general pain in the arse (but she will never change 😅)

A/N: Ahhh thank you to everyone who's enjoying this series fic so far! 😁 I love writing it! I hope you all have a fantastic week! ❤️

Missed the last part? Catch up here

——————————

Chapter 4

——————

You walked out of the kitchen and joined everyone in the living room. You sent Greg a thin lipped smile as you sat across from him and Dolores on the other couch with Sherlock. You noticed the consulting detective tweeting away while John pressed play. You noticed Mycroft's absence, you knew he'd be in his room. "What are we watching?" Sherlock asked, eventually putting down his phone.

"'Why him?' Mary recommended it, she said it was quite funny."

You sat back with your legs perched up on the sofa, Sherlock sat in a similar fashion. Throughout the film your eyes wandered from the screen to Greg and Dolores, she was constantly draping herself over him and trying to catch his attention, you didn't even feel your lip start to sneer at the sight.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you took it out. A text from Sherlock.

From Sherlock: Your mouth might not be saying anything but your face certainly is.

From Y/N: Yeah? Well would you like to know what my fist has to say?

From Sherlock: I'd rather not...but if you'd like to converse your fist with Dolores's mouth to shut her up I wouldn't hold you back.

You smiled and tried to hold back your laugh that was bubbling in your throat.

From Y/N: STOPPPPPP! You're going to make me laugh and the film is at a serious bit! You know, the film we're supposed to be watching instead of texting!

From Sherlock: What is this film even about anyway?

From Y/N: No idea! I haven't been able to watch it because somebody *cough* you *cough* has been texting me. But to be honest I'd rather be watching Blue Planet 2.

From Sherlock: Me too. Attenborough' s voice is incredibly soothing.

From Y/N: Want to watch it in my room? We can get away from the face sucking monster that's sitting across from us?

From Sherlock: Sounds good. Grab some drinks.

You got up off the couch and stretched a little "I'm going to call it a night guys, do any of you want a drink before I head into my room?"

"Meeeeee!" Dolores droned out the word and stuck her hand up, giggling.

You raised a brow and turned to John "Isn't she a bit drunk already?" John shrugged and you let out a sigh before heading to the kitchen. You took out a few bottles from the fridge and placed them on the table in the middle of the living room. Dolores flew for them. You looked up to Greg and sent him a thin smile before heading to your room.

Greg glanced back and watched you disappear into your room. His brows knitted together seeing Sherlock follow you in with a bowl of popcorn. Greg turned back to the screen but wasn't focusing on the film, his face was starting to contort with...jealousy?

"You alright Greg?" John noticed and Greg snapped out of his thoughts.

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine!" He forced a grin. John didn't look convinced but didn't mention it again.

Greg's head turned back to your door again and every vein in his body flooded with jealousy again.

---

"Look at that fish!" You screamed out in awe "It has a clear head! You could not make this shit up!" You squeaked and took a swig out of your bottle before crunching a mouthful of popcorn.

"It is quite remarkable and-Oh my god! Look at that shark!" Sherlock almost burst with excitement, causing you to giggle.

"This is way better than watching the film...and Dolores." Sherlock uttered and you nodded in agreement "On the subject of her, what do you think?"

You rolled your eyes "Why does everyone care what I think of her? John asked me the same thing earlier! As long as Greg's happy that's the main thing." You kept your eyes on the screen and avoided Sherlock's burning gaze. "Stop..." you sighed and shut your eyes.

"Stop what?" Sherlock asked, trying to be completely innocent.

"Giving me that creepy, sympathetic, concerned look. Please don't worry about me. Like I said; I don't care."

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something along the lines of 'but you do care, stop lying to yourself and everyone else' but he didn't. He saw you yawning, he knew you were tired and he didn't want to aggravate you right before going to sleep.

As soon as the show ended, your head hit against the pillow and you were out like a light. Sherlock placed your covers over you and took away the empty bottles and popcorn bowl, he turned off your light before shutting the door over. He didn't even notice Greg glaring at him as he popped into the kitchen before returning to his own room.

Greg was stuck on the couch with Dolores sleeping on top of him. She fell asleep halfway through the movie and now all Greg was watching was the news. John had went to his bed as soon as the film finished.

Greg carefully moved Dolores so he could get to his own bed, he grabbed a blanket for her and left her be.

---

"You're up a bit early aren't you?"

You smiled at Mycroft as you entered the kitchen at half four in the morning.

"Couldn't sleep thanks to snoring sleeping beauty over there..." you trailed off in a quiet voice and looked over to her before returning your focus to a smirking Mycroft "Plus I wanted to see you off, as usual." You softly smiled at the suited and booted man in front of you who had a suitcase by his feet.

"That's very nice of you. My car should be coming shortly to take me to the airport."

You nodded and jumped slightly hearing a single loud snore as Dolores inhaled a gasp of air. Your eyes wandered over to her again and Mycroft followed your gaze.

"You don't have to worry about her," he whispered.

You let it a small groan "Why does everyone think I worry about who Greg dates? It's his life he can go out with whoever he wants!" You unintentionally snapped. Mycroft lightly shrugged and you apologised.

"Apology accepted, but I'm serious. Don't worry about her."

You thanked him with a smile before a car horn disturbed the both of you. "Enjoy Washington!" You embraced him in a quick hug. Mycroft didn't hug back, he never did. "I packed a packet of haribo starmix in your hand luggage because I know you love them and that you kinda hate airplane food. I also got the packet with the most gummy hearts in it because I know they're your favourite."

"You're very thoughtful..." he walked to the door and you saw him out.

"Yeah well I'd do the same for all my boys," you smiled to yourself and opened the door for him. Mycroft stepped out onto the landing with a half smile on his face. You leaned yourself against the doorframe "Tell me when you land. You know I always worry."

"I will, I'll see you soon. Don't have any house parties while I'm away..." he warned with a stern look.

You raised a brow "Don't you start any wars because I just cleaned out my room the other day. I don't want my efforts wasted!" You retorted back with a smirk.

"I'll try my best," he sarcastically grinned "Goodbye and thanks again, Y/N." you waved him off before shutting the door back over again. You decided to head back to bed and squeeze in a few hours sleep.

Your eyes struggled to open, they were almost adamant in staying shut. When they did open again you noticed it was approaching half eight in the morning, a tired groan escaped your lips as you got up out of bed. You opened the door and found John frantically rushing up and down the hall to get ready for work.

"Morning Y/N!" He chirped.

"Morning John, I'm going to make some tea. Do you want a cup before heading off to work?" You asked whilst making yourself one.

"Oh yes please!" He tied up his shoes and you poured out the boiling water in to mugs. "Sleep well?" He asked taking the cup from you.

"Not really..." you breathed out and looked in the direction of Dolores "All I could hear was snoring."

John nodded with a smirk "Me too." You rested your bum against the worktop as you sipped on your tea. John was on his phone, you assumed he was messaging Mary giving her an advanced notice that he'd be leaving soon and would pick her up on the way to the doctors surgery.

"You needing a lift to work?" John asked, not removing his eyes from his phone screen.

"Nope, I've finished my press statement so I don't have to be in today, no meetings or anything either. I might help Sherlock if he has a case."

John let out a snort of laughter "Who's more demanding? Sherlock or the prime minister?"

"Sherlock, hands down!" You giggled.

"Morning..." a sleepy voice appeared out of nowhere.

"Morning Greg," both you and John spoke at the same time. You automatically made Greg a cup of tea and he took it from you with a thankful smile.

"I'm sorry if Dolores kept you up," he grimaced slightly.

"It's alright," you assured, not wanting to upset him "How is she getting home?"

Greg sighed "I can drop her off before heading into work, I should probably wake her up..." he hummed. "Can you two help me?"

You sent John a wry glance out the side of your eye before you both let out a defeated huff of air under your breaths and placed down your tea. You followed Greg into the living room and he gently tried to wake Dolores up, after a few sleepy grunts and groans, she began to wake. Greg dashed to the kitchen to grab her a glass of water while you and John attempted to get her off the couch.

"Bath-bathroom..." she grumbled while hunched over.

"What did she say?" John asked before a loud gagging noise filled the room.

You let out a gasp before both you and John released your grasp on Dolores, making her fall back on to the couch.

You shut over your eyes and remained frozen on the spot next to John. "Please tell me that didn't just happen..." you asked in a quiet tone and grabbed onto his arm.

"Yeah," John groaned "It did."

"What's all the-" Greg arrived back into the living room "-noise...?" He uttered out and you opened your eyes again. Your left leg and John's right leg was covered in sick.

"I'm showering first!" John quickly waddled to the bathroom.

"No!" You groaned and tried to catch up with him but he landed to get there first. "Expect payback John Watson!" You banged your palms against the door. You sighed and rested your head against the door.

"Y/N I am so, so sorry!" Greg was genuinely completely and utterly mortified.

"It's fine..." you muttered and suddenly the bathroom door opened. You barged passed John and slammed the door shut, almost tearing off your trousers. When you got into the shower you pressed your forehead against the cold tiles and let out a long, disappointed sigh.

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