#posting twice today for funsies | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neptunetheplanet7 · 3 years

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 - 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

DM ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE PUT ON THE TAGLIST!!

;mikasa ackerman x fem!lesbian!reader

;modern au, band au

word count: 1.5k

warnings: swearing, hitch is a bitch

listen to the music masterlist

prev | next

"Good morning, Y/n!" Jean greeted as he slammed your bedroom door against the wall.

You groaned and rolled over in the tangled sheets. "You're gonna dent the wall, idiot! Get out, I'm trying to sleep."

"Y/n. It's 2 in the afternoon. How can you sleep on a day like this anyways?" Jean ripped off the covers.

You yelped as the warmth of the blankets left your body. "It's cold, moron! Why would you do that?" You hissed.

Jean rolled his eyes. "Get up, vampire. Hitch is outside. For some reason."

You blinked twice and wondered if you heard him right. "Hitch? Hitch Dreyse? At our house?"

"Go look for yourself." Jean turned on his heel and left the room.

"I just wanted to sleep in," You grumbled to yourself. You lazily lifted yourself out of bed and dragged your feet to the closet.

Why would Hitch be at your house on a day like this? It's not that you didn't like her, because you definitely did. Keyword: did.

You and Hitch were roommates for the one year you went to college before dropping out. She insisted on helping you get over Mikasa in any way she could. And boy did she mean it.

It didn't make sense that Hitch was here today. It wasn't like you two kept in contact. Sure, you had a fling with her three years ago, but you told no one about it and neither did she.

You both agreed to keep it a secret since you realized you weren't getting over Mikasa any time soon. You had felt guilty about the whole thing and Hitch's sudden presence brought back a lot of that unresolved guilt.

Nevertheless, if there was a time to solve the problem, why not do it now? You huffed and smoothed out the skirt you were wearing. You were about to leave when felt a hand on your arm.

"Why is Hitch here? She said she wanted to speak with you." Armin asked, confusion written on his face.

"You tell me." You shrugged. "But don't worry about it. Best you leave us be." You smiled and patted his shoulder before opening the front door.

Hitch was wearing big studded black sunglasses, a large leather coat that reached halfway down her thighs, and heeled black boots. Her hair was much straighter than it was the last time you saw her. You were many things but a liar was not one of them. Hitch looked good.

She lowered her sunglasses. "Ah, Y/n! Finally up, are we?" A smile spread across her face.

"Hello, Hitch. It's been a while." You nervously bounced on your heels, racking your brain for a reason as to why she's here.

"It has!" She tossed her rolled-up newspaper into your flower garden. What the hell? You spent time on those. "I hear Mikasa will be back tonight." The mousy-haired woman crossed her arms.

"How do you know about that?" You took a hesitant step away from her. No one except a select few knew about it. Unless one of your bandmates chose to spread along the news.

She took a few confident strides toward you, taking in your change in your demeanor. She towered over you now, much unlike three years ago. "Oh, I get around. You would know." She smirked devilishly.

"I haven't seen you since college," You ignored her remark. She laughed lightly.

"Well, obviously. Let's say you and I have a good old catch up session. Just the two of us. Niccolo's? I recently found out he has his own bakery just down the road. Nice to see someone's living their dream." Hitch patted your head. What was she doing?

"I'm kinda busy here, thanks for the offer," You declined with narrow eyes. Just when you were about to turn the other way, she took hold of your hand.

"Why so quick to deny? Get in the car, Y/n." She forced a smile.

Overcome with curiosity, and a bit of shock, you decided there couldn't be any harm in going. Right? Hitch drove to Niccolo's, which really wasn't just down the road like she said. His bakeshop was a good twenty minutes away from your house. That factor alone resulted in a painfully awkward car ride. You had so many questions for the woman who showed up so out of the blue. "We're here!" Hitch announced and parked her car.

Niccolo gave Hitch a disapproving stare when you both walked inside. You spotted Sasha in the back room inhaling sweets. You had forgotten it was her shift soon.

"Good afternoon, Niccolo!" Hitch beamed.

The blond sighed. "Hi, Hitch. What can I get for you?"

"Well, those pastries back there look good." She pointed to where Sasha was eating.

Confusion flashed across Niccolo's face before he glanced behind him. "Sasha! What did I tell you? Those are for customers! You're lucky enough you get a discount on things, but discount doesn't mean free!" His face twisted in annoyance, making it seem like this wasn't the first time it's happened today.

You heard a faint: "I'm sorry! I was hungry!" before Niccolo told us he'd be right back.

Hitch leaned down slightly to whisper to me. "What are you gonna get?"

You shrugged. "What I always get. Just a croissant."

She nodded and stood back at her full height. "Then I'll have the same."

It had been several minutes before Niccolo came out from the back room, resulting in Hitch checking her watch every few seconds, huffing each time. When he did come back, Sasha trailed after him. Her pout turned into and inquisitive look once she saw you were with Hitch. Not even she knew about your relationship with her.

"Sorry about that." Niccolo cleared his throat and prepared to take our order.

Hitch ordered for you and paid for it. She thanked him whilst putting a hand on your back and guiding you to a nearby table. You sat down across from her an cautiously started eating the pastry. You glanced at the surrounding tables, recognising a few faces.

Most of which were your neighbors, but one stuck out. A good friend of Hitch's from college looked as though he was watching you two. He had cut his hair into a mullet, but you still recognised Marlo. You looked back at Hitch before he could notice your stare. She had made a nice dent in her croissant.

"So, Y/n, what've you been up to? Still in that band?" she brushed the crumbs off her hands and tapped her fingers on the table.

"Yeah. Same old, same old. What've you been up to?"

"Well, I see you've noticed Marlo, so I think I'll just get straight to the point. You still love Mikasa, yeah?" She leaned forward and rested her head on the backs of her hands.

You snapped your head up, suddenly fully attentive. "How did you-"

"Don't be so obvious," She shushed. "We don't want your friends to hear." She nodded her head toward Sasha and Niccolo arguing behind the counter.

"I suppose so. What do you want, Hitch?" You said calmly. She did this on purpose. You couldn't leave since Sasha would ask you about it. You couldn't cause a scene. Somehow, she figured out when her shift was, and somehow she planned a scheme, you just had to figure out what it was.

She laughed and leaned back in her chair. "Loosen up a bit, honey bunny. Only asking you a question."

The use of Sasha's nickname had you scowling at the woman. "I guess I do. What's it to you, though?"

"Pursue that feeling and everyone finds out about us. I mean everyone. You don't like your private life on the internet correct?" She assessed your glare and continued. "I'll take your silence as a no. I'll also throw in a couple things you told me back then. Just for funsies." She grinned and quickly finished off her croissant.

Needless to say, all this astonished you. It wasn't like Hitch to do something like this. She knew you liked to keep certain things to yourself. Hell, she even addressed that! Your previous relationship with Hitch hadn't lasted very long. To you, it was a distraction. To her, it was obviously something more. That was the main reason you cut it off with her, wanting to end it before you hurt her. You still felt extremely guilty about it, another reason why you never told anyone. You were so ashamed that you had used her as a distraction from your other feelings.

"Look, Hitch, I'm very sorry about what I did in the past. I regret it more than you know. I was too scared to come forward about it, but I want you to know that when I say I'm sorry I mean it," You said with seriousness evident in your tone.

Hitch stood up. "Save it, Y/n. What's done is done. You should worry about what you're going to do in these next few weeks. I'm taking you home. Let's go."

She held the door open for you and gestured for you to follow her. You stood there in shock for a moment before following her out the door. What were you gonna do?

posted: 8/26/21

no reposts, edits, or modification to my work by anyone other than me.

#mikasa ackerman #mikasa x reader #mikasa x you #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #modern au #band au

12 notes · View notes

perfeggso · 3 years

Text

Noir (yutae)

Week IV pt. 1

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies)

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 7k

“Okay,” said Yuta, “this is the last time I’ll ask – I promise. You’re sure I didn’t scare you last night?”

Taeyong sat in the passenger side of Yuta’s car, waiting in the pick-up area at Narita International Airport the morning after their first night together, listening to "4:00AM" by Taeko Onuki. He rolled his eyes.

“Yuta,” he began, “if I was going to be scared of you – which I am not, by the way – it wouldn’t be because you startled me when you yelled in the middle of the night, I can tell you that much.”

The night before, Taeyong had fallen asleep in Yuta’s arms; tired, sated, and oh so happy. His little bundle of positivity only unwound when he was shaken rudely awake in the early hours of the morning by Yuta screaming. It didn’t last for long, partially because Taeyong had used all the wits he could gather to coo over Yuta, calming him down and easing his tension, but it had been disturbing, nonetheless. When Taeyong felt like he’d waited a sufficiently long time for Yuta to regain his bearings, he’d ventured to ask what was the matter. All Yuta could put into words was that he’d had a bad dream, and that for as long as he could remember, his bad dreams could sometimes get horrifying or tangible enough to make him react quite violently in the real world, and he was sorry. Taeyong didn’t press him on what that particular dream was about, but it must have been quite upsetting. Who knew what kinds of things Yuta had seen in his life for his unconscious brain to draw upon? Anyway, the next morning Yuta couldn’t stop the incident from preoccupying him, apparently very worried that it would somehow make him less desirable or something. Taeyong was having none of it.

Yuta sighed as he sank farther into the driver’s seat, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Taeyong felt a little pang of guilt that he might have insinuated that maybe he should fear Yuta for other, non-nightmare-related reasons. But like he said, he didn’t. He didn’t fear Yuta even though he’d watched him kill another man with his own eyes. Yuta was too sweet and odd, too predictably human, and made him feel too good to scare him.

“Okay, good. It just happens sometimes. Haven’t figured out how to control it yet,” Yuta said. He switched the topic. “How’s your ass, by the way?” Taeyong smiled to himself.

“It’s fine, but you did bruise me a tiny bit.”

Now it was Yuta smiling. “Sorry.” He didn’t seem very sorry, though. “Don’t Change” by INXS started to play over the radio.

“I don’t care,” Taeyong admitted. “I like a little reminder of who made me feel like this.”

“Good,” said Yuta. “Next time I’ll mark you up deliberately.”

Taeyong’s breath caught in his throat. Should they even be talking about this on the job? Wasn’t Yuta worried about being distracted? Still, he filed Yuta’s promise away in his mind so he could hold him to his word.

“You wanted tattoos, anyway,” Yuta teased. “I can give you the low commitment version.”

“You’re kinda corny sometimes, you know?” Taeyong said, causing Yuta to splutter laughter.

“Yeah,” he confessed, “I know.” He turned to regard Taeyong with a smile.

Taeyong hadn’t brought anything with him last night to change into for the next day, so (with permission!) he’d raided Yuta’s closet. Taeyong wouldn’t have minded wearing his clothes from the night before – they weren’t particularly slutty and no one he’d be seeing today had seen him in them the previous night – but they still smelled pretty bad from all the sweat and spilled alcohol lodged in their threads. Instead, Taeyong got to smell like Yuta.

He wore a Bauhaus t-shirt, black jeans, and a gray blazer with a little gold pin with the Inagawa-kai logo on it attached to the lapel. Yuta wore the same one on his black, patent-leather peacoat. He had paired that with black aviator sunglasses for a truly eye-catching combination. Taeyong thought it was funny that Yuta seemed incapable of not dressing like a mobster.

Before Yuta could say whatever he was about to, a blue BMW pulled up right next to them and rolled down the window, revealing Taeil in the driver’s seat and Mark by his side. Taeil was yelling something Taeyong couldn’t hear over the sound of departing airplanes, and apparently Yuta couldn’t understand it either because he yelled back for Taeil to repeat himself.

“What?” Taeil asked instead.

“He’s wondering if you’ve gotten any updates!” Mark repeated.

“No!” Yuta responded. “And why are you double-parking me? Just pull up a little!”

Taeil obliged and parked in front of Yuta and Taeyong, getting out once he’d cut the engine and walking to Yuta’s window. Yuta turned off the radio.

“Why do you need an update?” he asked.

Taeil rested his hands on the car door. “Because,” he explained, “Mark was hanging around headquarters and really wanted to come even though I kept telling him that if they brought more than one extra person with them I would not hesitate to leave him at the airport.”

“Why didn’t you just say no?” Yuta inquired.

“Because I thought he’d tell you I said no and then you’d be annoyed.”

Taeyong sat there as this whole interaction played out, watching Mark watch them from Taeil’s car. It seemed like Mark got a lot of preferential treatment. Not that Taeyong could talk.

“Alright,” said Yuta. “It’s not a problem. I don’t have any reason to believe there will be more people with Kun than he said.”

Taeil clapped his hands over the car door a couple of times. “Okay, just checking. Shategashira ?”

“Yeah?”

“ Would you have been annoyed with me?”

Yuta pondered the question for a minute, eyes dancing around the cabin of his car. “Probably,” he eventually admitted, smiling and looking at Taeil out of the corner of his eye.

“Knew it!”

Part of Taeyong wanted to know what Yuta’s deal was with Mark, scared the curiosity might be coming from a place of burgeoning jealousy. Taeyong was over the moon about his relationship with Yuta, but sometimes he cursed his own decision making. His infatuations always stressed him out terribly, and his situation was already stressful enough.

He watched as a group of well-dressed men exited the door Kun and his people were supposed to be emerging from. Yuta and Taeil were still talking – something to do with their meeting preparations, no doubt – and hadn’t seemed to notice the new arrivals in the pickup area.

“Is that them?” Taeyong asked.

Yuta and Taeil both snapped their heads in the direction Taeyong was pointing. Yuta blinked.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “It is.”

“How many were there supposed to be?” Taeyong asked as a follow-up.

“Seven,” Taeil answered this time. “They brought two extras with them. Fuck.”

“Looks like someone’s going in the trunk,” Yuta joked.

Taeyong and Yuta got out of the car, walking over to the Triads with Taeil and Mark, who’d finally stepped out onto the curb. Taeyong thought he caught Mark giving him a once-over, perhaps registering the presence of Yuta’s clothing on his body.

“I thought I told you to stay at your post,” Yuta scolded.

Mark shrugged. “I thought this was a special occasion.”

The Triads were more inconspicuous than the Inagawa-kai usually were, their tall builds and dark clothing lending them all an appearance more akin to a celebrity and his bodyguards (although who the celebrity was could be up to interpretation) than to a group of criminals.

Kun, or at least the man Taeyong assumed was Kun, stood at the front of a near perfect triangle of his men, a relaxed confidence defining his features.

Kun and Yuta acknowledged each other with a bow.

“ Shategashira , good to see you,” Kun greeted.

“ Fu Shan Chu , the honor’s all mine.”

Taeyong didn’t know what Kun’s title meant, but he had a feeling Yuta wasn’t pronouncing it very well. Not that he could have done any better. As Taeil and Mark quickly extended their own greetings, Taeyong prayed a silent ‘thank you’ that the Triads all spoke Japanese; he didn’t need to be any more confused than he already was basically nonstop. Although after a moment of thought, he realized this made perfect sense considering these men had been hand-picked to attend an important business meeting (if you could call it a “business meeting”) in Japan.

“Taeyong,” Yuta began, the indulgent tone Taeyong had grown more and more used to him using when they were together overtaking his voice, “I want you to meet some dear friends.”

Kun introduced himself first as a Deputy, second in command of his syndicate and in charge of international business; then came Sicheng, a skilled tracker and fighter despite his lithe build; followed by Ten, the Hong Kong liaison for the group’s Thai offshoot who explained by way of introduction that, since no one could ever pronounce his real name, he went by ‘Ten’ for the number of people he’d personally “interrogated” by the time he decided he needed a nickname (“but now I’ve lost count”). The three of them were followed by Yukhei, a tall Hong Kong native and self-described yes-man for Ten; Dejun, who kept his introduction succinct but fixed an almost manic positive energy on Taeyong the whole time he spoke; Kunhang, the “Macanese Snoop,” whatever that meant; and Yangyang who once worked for the Taiwanese Triads and was in charge of smuggling since he used to do it between West and East Germany for some reason Taeyong didn’t quite catch. The seven men were able to pack so much information into their introductions because they kept jumping in on each other’s sentences, adding information they deemed pertinent about their friends seemingly as a way of hyping one another up.

Once the seven men in front finished, Yuta peaked exaggeratedly to the back of the group to address the stragglers.

“And you two, it seems to me, are none other than Zhong Chenle and Huang Renjun, all grown up now, hm?” The pair smiled mischievously at each other. They wore almost schoolboy-like suits that looked a little too expensive to be trusted in the hands of a late teen or early twenty-something, as they appeared to be.

“Hello Yuta-san,” they each chimed, a bit out of synch.

“I can tell that you’ve aged too, Shategashira,” quipped the shorter of the two. The taller joined in.

“Yeah, please make sure you’re getting enough sleep, sir.” Chenle and Renjun tittered as the Triads rolled their eyes and Kun shot them an absolutely lethal glare.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Mark jested from over Taeyong’s left shoulder. “You’re on Yuta’s turf now and I can promise from experience you don’t want to see him pissed. Can’t run to your daddies here.”

Now it was Chenle rolling his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Mark,” he said, and Mark cackled in amusement.

“Thank you, Mark,” Taeil interjected, a cautious impatience practically dripping from his voice. “I think our Shategashira can defend himself.”

“Great!” said Yuta, trying to regain control of the interaction. Taeyong was starting to get nervous because they were all still standing out in the open outside one of Narita’s many exits, and it wouldn’t have taken that much imagination on the part of an onlooker to identify them as a group of gangsters. Yuta didn’t seem nervous though, so Taeyong pushed his anxiety as far down as he could until it was nearly imperceptible. Yuta leaned closer to him a bit as he aimed to guide Taeyong through their ongoing introductions.

“Those two meiwaku are the sons of Triad commanders. They’re completely spoiled, as you can see.” Taeyong almost giggled, amused by the amount of time Yuta seemed to spend getting bullied by people who were barely out of high school. Yuta continued. “So that’s everyone,” he concluded, pulling away from Taeyong.

“I’m humbled to meet you all,” Taeyong said, brain overloaded for the hundredth time in a month by all the new faces and by Yuta’s proximity.

Yuta brushed his finger over Taeyong’s sleeve. It was a small movement and he doubted anyone else saw, but Taeyong had to suppress the heat threatening to overtake his face. Yuta never got into the personal space of his subordinates while conducting business, but then again, Taeyong was an exception in more ways than one. He couldn’t decide if he was more irritated by Yuta messing with him or by his own oversensitivity.

“You don’t have to use kenjougo with them,” Yuta joked. “Polite language will do. They’re all younger than you, anyway.”

Taeyong balked. He knew that Chenle and Renjun were young, but his tone hadn’t been meant for them. And he thought Yuta was a prodigy...

“You want to introduce yourself, Taeyong?” Yuta suggested.

“Oh, right! Hello, my name is Lee Taeyong and I’m sort of a member-in-training, I suppose. I’m helping Yuta prepare for your upcoming meeting.” Taeyong bowed, having rushed through his introduction, and he was glad no one could see his downcast eyes go wide when he felt Yuta’s palm just above the small of his back, guiding him upright. Could he not?

“Taeyong’s been a great asset to us lately,” said Yuta, and Taeyong thought he detected the tiniest hint of teasing in his words. “I trust you’ll all come to appreciate him as we have.”

Taeyong heard Taeil sigh from behind him. “We should be going,” he stated, “but I regret to inform you that one of the pipsqueaks is going to need to improvise in terms of seating on the way into the city. We were expecting fewer people.”

Kun smiled wryly. “Maybe I should have hired a professional driver,” he joked and Taeil stiffened in irritation. “But no,” he continued, “I understand. These two insisted last minute on a vacation to Tokyo and their fathers didn’t listen to my concerns about bringing them, so here we are. We’ll figure it out.”

“Shall we?” asked Yuta, turning on his heel towards the parked cars, and Kun made a hand motion that signaled for all the Triads to follow.

“You know,” said Taeil, as he watched Mark drop back in formation to share more personal greetings with some of his Triad buddies, “we could just put Mark in the trunk, and this wouldn’t be an issue. He did insist on joining after all.”

Mark turned his attention from Yukhei to Taeil and scowled. “If you do that, I’ll yell so loud you get pulled over and then I’ll say I’m being kidnapped by the yakuza,” he warned.

Ten sidled up to Mark and regarded him casually, a smirk forming on his face. “Uh-huh,” he said, “and what do you think the cops will make of that Irezumi on your wrist?”

“Shut up,” said Mark, seeming to resign himself to an uncomfortable ride back.

Taeyong and Yuta returned to their car, trailed by Ten, Kun, and a skittish Renjun who held a finger to his lips as he slipped into the middle seat in back. Taeyong paused in front of the vehicle for a moment, next to the passenger side door. He was fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to sit shotgun, considering he had the lowest rank of the five of them save Renjun. He looked at Yuta questioningly, expecting a word or gesture directing him to the back seats. Instead, Yuta nodded for Taeyong to enter where he was, so Taeyong opened the door and sat in front, trying to be small and invisible by moving as little as possible. Kun and Ten didn’t seem to question it.

“Thank you for choosing Inagawa chauffeur service,” Yuta said jokingly once everyone was inside. It took a moment to get going because Mark was trying to force Chenle into the trunk of Taeil’s car and Chenle responded by flailing and emitting a screech so high in pitch that Taeyong worried it might shatter all the windows of both cars.

“You’re a smart boy, Renjun,” Kun stated, “choosing to come in this car.”

“Yeah,” Ten chimed, “what would you have done if we tried to force you into the trunk?”

Renjun smirked. “I have a pocket knife on me and I’m not afraid to use it…” he explained in response, making everyone laugh. In front of them, Mark pouted as the trunk door finally closed over him. Taeyong caught a smile on Yuta’s face out of his peripheral vision as both car engines started.

***

Taeyong had only been to the “training room” at headquarters a couple of times before. The first time had been when Doyoung decided to nab him and teach him knife throwing, and the second was when Jaehyun asked him to hold arm pads for him to punch. The space was painted yellow from floor to ceiling and had harsh lighting and mold growing like shadows in the corners. One section had weights, mats, and boxing equipment set up next to a mirror; one, some knives and targets; and one, a table and small sitting area.

The Triads had only been in town a few hours and already, they seemed to be getting quite comfortable. When Taeyong had a moment of free time, Ten and a few others grabbed him without explanation and dragged him off to go “have some fun and get to know each other.” Apparently, that meant subjecting him to public mortification.

Sicheng had his arms wrapped around Taeyong’s midsection, bending him over and essentially demobilizing him. Taeyong breathed heavily, unable to do anything but struggle and watch the speckled floor under him shift along with his jerky movements.

“Sicheng, maybe go easy on him?” he heard Kunhang suggest from the table area, where some of the Triads were sat watching.

“I thought Inagawa was tougher than this,” Yangyang heckled, and Taeyong felt hot shame pile on top of his bodily discomfort.

Dejun piped up next. “He’s new, Yangyang, give him a break.”

Taeyong wanted to respond, but he was too busy trying to defend himself physically to do it verbally. Sicheng brought his knee up into Taeyong’s stomach, just hard enough to startle him without hurting him too badly. He used Taeyong’s disorientation to trip him, and next thing he knew, Taeyong was sore and heaving with his ass on the padded floor.

“Or don’t go easy on him,” Kunhang remarked. “Either way.”

Taeyong looked to his audience. Dejun, Kunhang, and Yangyang were all sitting around the table in the corner, a neglected game of poker which had started as a way of blowing off some competitive steam after “training” laid out between them. Ten stood a bit off to the side, arms crossed and gaze sharp with scrutiny. He took a couple of strides towards Taeyong and Sicheng, a smirk overtaking his mouth as he looked down at Taeyong like he was prey. Taeyong had met plenty of scary people in his life, and the frequency of such encounters had only increased since he started hanging around the yakuza, but Ten, with his wicked expressiveness and black leather suit in this moment gave Taeyong a chill of pure terror.

He noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to see it was Sicheng reaching his hand out to help Taeyong up. He smiled, face inviting and a welcome contrast to Ten’s entire aura. Taeyong took his hand and let Sicheng pull him to his feet.

“I thought you were supposed to be Yuta’s bodyguard,” Ten said plainly.

“Well, not exactly,” Taeyong tried to explain. “I just follow him around and keep a lookout for trouble; anything suspicious.”

Ten narrowed his eyes in a way Taeyong felt had to be partly for show. “That’s all, huh? Doesn’t sound like much.” Ten looked Taeyong head to toe and hummed thoughtfully. “Could there be another reason Yuta keeps you around?”

Jesus Christ, did everyone know? The room felt suddenly cold as Taeyong’s body came down from his previous exertion. He tried to suppress a shiver as his brain rushed to come up with a response. Thankfully, Sicheng stepped in.

“He knows how to fight, Ten, he’s just used to fighting brainless brutes.”

Taeyong nodded, hurrying to redeem himself. “Sicheng’s right,” he confirmed. “M’sorry.”

Ten let out a laugh through his nose. “No need to grovel,” he said, smile growing slightly less intimidating. He pushed a finger playfully into Taeyong’s shoulder, sending Taeyong’s mind reeling. “Anyway, I heard you saved Yuta from an assassin, so I’m in your corner. I’m just taking it upon myself to help you improve and make yourself even more useful.”

Taeyong laughed in confusion, spitting out a sarcastic, “gee, thanks.”

Dejun expelled a sound of wounded disappointment from behind Ten, certainly brought about by the poker game. Kunhang and Yangyang snickered. Ten ignored them all, keeping his attention trained on Taeyong. He raised an eyebrow and smiled, catlike.

“Wanna see something cool?”

“Sure?” Taeyong ventured, not sure if this was another way of saying “let’s have some fun and get to know each other.” He steadied his core in case Ten decided to tackle him or something.

Instead, Ten opened his leather jacket, giving his torso the effect of having bat wings. Taeyong was surprised, but not as surprised as he would have been a month ago, to see the glint of what had to be at least two dozen small metal weapons emanating from the lining.

“Shit…”

“Nice, huh?” Ten prompted, and Taeyong felt compelled to nod in agreement. Ten used his head to indicate the right side of his jacket, where he had stored a slew of small knives, brass knuckles, and throwing stars, among other things Taeyong didn’t recognize.

“This side is for hand to hand combat,” he explained, smiling like a snake about to bite. He indicated to his left next, where he had some longer and thicker knives, plyers, metal clamps, and a bouquet of slim needles, each about nine inches in length. “And this side is for extracting information.” Ten seemed to register Taeyong’s cautious surprise. “I only show you this so you know what you’re up against,” he cooed.

“Al-alright,” Taeyong almost swallowed his words. “I appreciate it.”

Before Ten could terrorize him any further, the door swung open and everyone was looking to see who had arrived. It was Yukhei, trailed by Yuta.

“Yup, they’re in here,” Yukhei was saying, holding the door open for Yuta to enter.

Yuta stalked towards Taeyong, Ten, and Sicheng and the boys at the corner table all stood in greeting.

“Ten,” Yuta said in mock disapproval, “are you traumatizing my poor partner?”

“I’d call it ‘educating,’” Ten responded. “If he gets traumatized that’s simply a byproduct of necessary learning.”

“Okay, Ten, just don’t scare him off,” Yuta replied.

“It’s not like I could leave if I wanted to,” Taeyong grumbled, and Yuta shot him a cutting look, but it softened quickly into an expression of vague sadness.

“Taeyong, you’re wanted in room 2A.”

Taeyong schooled his face. “Right away, Shategashira .”

Yuta turned on his heel and exited the room. Yukhei stayed by the door, Taeyong figured, because Ten needed him. Taeyong followed hesitantly after, but Yukhei stopped him on the way out, looming over him but smiling so genuinely that Taeyong felt more comforted than scared.

“If it’s any consolation,” Yukhei began, a thick accent coating his deep voice, “Sicheng kicks my ass all the time too.”

Taeyong had a hard time believing that considering Yukhei, though he was roughly the same height as Sicheng, was noticeably larger in every other way. He was probably either too nice or too reliant on blunt force. Taeyong let out a breathy laugh.

“Thanks. That does make me feel a bit better.”

“No problem.”

Taeyong left, hearing Ten’s call of “bye-bye, Taeyong! I’ll see you again soon!” echo down the hall after him. His stomach sank when he thought of the coldness he’d accidentally caused in Yuta, but the other man was nowhere to be found so he figured he’d just report where he was needed and find Yuta later.

Room 2A was one floor down. Taeyong tried to open it himself but it was locked, so he opted to bang on the metal to announce his presence. It opened, a grinning pair of faces belonging to Johnny and Mina greeting him on the other side.

“Yonggie!” Mina exclaimed, moving herself away from the entrance so Taeyong could pass her, which he did. “Welcome!”

The room was little more than a cinder block box with a metal chair in the center. If Taeyong didn’t trust Mina and Johnny at this point, he would be expecting something horrible to occur in such a room.

“What’s going on, you guys?” Taeyong asked.

Johnny closed the door and came to lean on the wall across from Taeyong.

“Why don’t you take a seat,” he suggested, and Taeyong did. “We’re here to impart on you some very valuable lessons.”

Taeyong grimaced. He was exhausted from what Sicheng had put him through and just wanted to find Yuta. He’d had enough “education” and “lessons” for one day. Nevertheless, he figured he had no choice but to indulge his captors.

“What lessons are those?” Taeyong asked, rocking himself slightly against his chair. Mina joined Johnny on the wall.

She answered, “Tactics for resisting interrogation.”

Taeyong started. “Whoa. Okay…”

“I know it sounds bad,” said Johnny, “but it’s really important for you to know. Yuta asked us to do this.”

Taeyong felt his skin prickling as he grew more nervous. Why didn’t Yuta just teach him himself, then? he wondered, posing the question out loud.

Johnny smirked. “Because, he has important shit to get done. He can’t tend to his Yonggie constantly. He has to delegate some of that.”

Taeyong gritted his teeth. “Alright, alright. But why do I need to know this? I’m practically useless so why would anyone bother kidnapping me?”

Johnny slid down the wall until he was crouching against it, his face softening in mild concern.

“First of all,” he said, “you should know you’re not useless, Taeyong.”

“Yeah!” Mina added. “He might give you a hard time, but Johnny keeps telling me how much he likes having you around.” Johnny smiled at this.

“You hang around with a Lieutenant all day!” he said, and Mina finished his sentiment with, “you are TOTALLY kidnappable, Taeyong!”

Taeyong laughed at the preposterousness of this compliment. “Thanks, guys. I’m sorry, I’m just in a bit of a mood today,” he explained. “And I guess you’re right.”

“Of course we are,” Johnny said, pushing back off the wall to standing. “Anyway, now that we’re all on the same page, this is where things might get a bit unpleasant again. We give this training to every member of the syndicate and all of our serious romantic partners, so contrary to your instincts, you are doubly in need of this.”

Taeyong squirmed, uncomfortable in a bad way over the fact that he wasn’t technically a syndicate member yet and uncomfortable in a good way at the knowledge that Yuta considered him serious .

Mina smiled. “Don’t worry, this has come in handy for me, for sure.”

“That just makes me worry more, you realize?” Taeyong replied with a grimace.

“Okay, fair enough. Sorry. But it’s better you know than end up dead or betraying your friends and boyfriend!”

“Taeyong,” Johnny began. “Let’s start with what you know. When you picture a yakuza kidnapping, what’s happening?”

Taeyong’s mind flew to the image of Ten’s sparkling and deadly bat wings. “I try not to picture that, but I saw what Ten carries around with him, so I think I have an idea.”

Johnny laughed hollowly as Mina watched him. “Yeah, Ten’s a special guy. I think he’s the only person I’ve met who genuinely enjoys that part of the job. Anyway, so you know it could get bad.”

Johnny lifted his shirt to reveal his lower abdomen. There was a long, thin scar across his obliques, slicing an inked koi fish in half.

“Knives are common,” he explained vaguely. “I got this one from a Sumiyoshi thug nicknamed ‘The Butcher.’ But we’ll get to that later.”

Taeyong swallowed thickly as he tried to steady his buzzing eyes. Johnny continued.

“Obviously, you know that we expect you not to divulge any sensitive information. There are three things you are allowed to confirm for your captors though, just to get them thinking you won’t be a complete pain in their asses. Those three things are name, rank, and clan. Got it?”

Taeyong remembered how Yuta had lost patience quickly with the Yamaguchi assassin who refused to give any personal details. He didn’t want to end up like that guy. He nodded.

“Lee Taeyong, Kumi-in, Inagawa-kai,” he recited, as if anyone in the room didn’t already know.

“But no more than that,” Johnny confirmed.

“Another important thing to keep in mind,” Mina continued, “is that there are ways to avoid the worst tactics. If they’ve gone to the trouble of capturing you, that’s because they think you have crucial information that they need. It’s in their interest to keep you alive.”

Taeyong nodded along, determined to be a good student as he realized more and more clearly the very real possibility he might need to use some of what he was learning.

“Although it can be tempting to act defiant as if you’re not bothered by the pain, and many experienced gangsters will do this to avoid hurting their fragile little egos,” Mina looked pointedly at Johnny, who just shrugged, guilty, “it can do you some good to play to the opposite. You should exaggerate your injuries and pain. Even if they try to use that against you and humiliate you, ultimately if they think you’re closer to death than you are they’ll let up much faster. Make sense?”

Taeyong nodded quickly. Exaggerated pain, he could do that. “Makes sense,” he confirmed.

“Okay,” Johnny went on, “another thing. Obviously if you ever did get kidnapped, we’d send some people out to find you, and hopefully they’d be successful.”

Taeyong shifted in his seat, watching Johnny start to pace. Hopefully .

“When you do get rescued, for that to end well you need to stay calm and not try to join in the fight. If they see you moving around a lot or if you look like you’re about to break out of whatever restraints they have you in and fight back, then they’re way more likely to treat you like an enemy combatant and not like a prisoner. You could get killed. It’s kind of counterintuitive, but it’s important.”

Taeyong rolled his ankles, gaining some comfort out of the way the stretch and crack of the movement soothed his muscles. He took a deep breath.

“Hey guys, why are we doing this right now? Am I in danger?”

Mina and Johnny exchanged a glance, sending Taeyong’s heart racing even faster than it already was as he tried to decipher their silent communication. Mina spoke first.

“Not necessarily,” she said.

“We just want to prepare you,” Johnny added. “Well, Yuta wanted us to prepare you because he’s been really worried since that assassin came after you two. We can’t be sure that anything too serious will go down but if, say, a gang war does start over this Mitsubishi thing, we want you to be prepared. Got it?”

“Oh…yeah, got it.” Taeyong sighed. “I supposed it’s too late to just…let me go, huh?”

Johnny’s face screwed up and Mina’s twitched. Taeyong thought of their conversation at Johnny’s pachinko bar, assuming she too was pouring over the memory of her own warnings.

“I – look,” Johnny began, and Taeyong already knew the answer he was about to receive. “It’s been discussed, and the higher ups are adamant; you’ll be given the choice as soon as the Mitsubishi deal is secured, but no earlier. They felt they needed to bring you on in the beginning, and I’m in no position to question if that was overkill, but at this point you’re certainly stuck, considering all the information you have.” Taeyong nodded, eyes fluttering to the floor as Johnny leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. He huffed a breath. “Do you – do you want to leave, Taeyong?”

Taeyong blinked. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what leaving would mean or where he could ever go. His new life was exciting in a way he’d always dreamed about and he liked the people around him more than he’d liked anyone in a long time; Johnny and Mina going out of their way to help him stay safe, the other Tora regiment members all welcoming him so easily, and Yuta…god, Yuta… At the same time though, Taeyong’s new life hadn’t managed to shake the feeling he so often had that he was floating through existence, incapable of being grounded even by the most intense experiences. He wasn’t used to things working out for him. Besides, the last time he made a major decision for himself, he’d been called xenophobic names and battered within an inch of his life.

“I…don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t think so, anyway, but I don’t want to be a liability.”

Johnny smiled slightly. “That’s not worth worrying about because you aren’t.”

Taeyong wasn’t convinced, but he nodded anyway. “Alright,” he said. “What else have you got to teach me?”

Johnny and Mina let him go after another half hour or so of discussion, teaching him how to school his demeanor to fit somewhere between deference and defiance, how to relax himself in a way that would prevent excessive bleeding and make blows easier to endure, and how to give answers that kept the line of questioning going but revealed nothing to the interrogators. By the time he left room 2A, Taeyong was wondering if he should feel empowered or petrified, his mind careening from one emotion to the other with every new thought. Once he was done processing, he decided to find Yuta.

He’d barely had the chance to talk to him all day and it was weird for him. The night before had been ridiculously intimate, Yuta fucking him so well, opening up to him about his past, and holding him as they fell asleep; so the weird shifts Taeyong had observed all day in Yuta between teasing and aloof were giving him whiplash since he couldn’t ask what was causing them. He hoped Yuta wasn’t busy.

“ Douzo .”

Taeyong’s heart sank when he opened Yuta’s office door and saw Kun there, though he tried not to show it.

“Taeyong, what is it?” Yuta asked, an air of impatience radiating from him and from Kun as he turned around to see who was there.

“ Shategashira ,” Taeyong saluted. He felt like it was his first day all over again. “Sorry to interrupt. I was just hoping to speak with you whenever you’re free.”

Yuta’s expression softened. “Of course. Why don’t you sit by the window while we finish up?”

“Thank you,” Taeyong said, bowing sheepishly and settling into one of the indicated chairs. “Excuse me.”

Kun looked sideways at Taeyong, silent.

“You can speak freely in front of him,” assured Yuta. Kun nodded and pulled his attention back to the matter at hand.

“I just don’t understand how they would have gotten ahold of that information. Could it have been through Donghyuck’s crew?” By “they” Taeyong assumed Kun meant the Yamaguchi-gumi.

Yuta shook his head, placing his fingers in a check mark shape at his chin. “I doubt it. Donghyuck is extremely careful.”

Kun was growing exasperated. Taeyong felt like maybe this was an interaction he shouldn’t be witnessing. He didn’t quite know why he felt that way, though.

“Well, Yuta, there has to be a weak link somewhere, and I trust that you’ll eliminate it. We’re already in a less stable position than I was expecting upon arrival.”

Yuta smiled accommodatingly. “Thank you for your confidence. The leak could have also come from a different regiment, but I’m doing all I can to weed out whoever is responsible.”

“Good,” said Kun. “Our success and our partnership could depend on this.”

“I understand.”

Right then, Chenle and Renjun showed up at the door, having finished a shopping trip down the street, to tell Kun that Ten was looking for him. Taeyong thought he saw Kun direct a sliver of a smile his way as he left.

Yuta sat up and joined Taeyong by the window in the chair to his left. He sat and sighed, a big, open smile overtaking his face. There was the whiplash again.

“Hi baby,” he said.

“Hi.”

“Did Johnny and Mina give you the talk?”

Taeyong snorted a laugh, looking at Yuta from under his fringy bangs. “Yeah, they did.”

“You okay?” Yuta asked. Taeyong shrugged.

“Could’ve been worse,” he guessed. “Good stuff to know.”

Yuta leaned in. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“I guess a little. But there was other stuff too.”

Taeyong looked around Yuta’s office. He’d been stuck almost all day in rooms with concrete walls and fluorescent lighting, and it was making him want to jump out of his skin. He told Yuta to wait a moment for him to get up and turn off the lights. On second thought, while he was up and about, he opened the window to flush the room of the stench of stale cigarette smoke. Yuta watched him with caution as he underwent his little chores. Taeyong turned from the window and made his way back to his chair, eyes finally able to relax in the dimness.

“Johnny and Mina said you’re worried I might be in danger.”

Yuta sighed again. “I don’t necessarily think you’re in imminent danger, but I want to be safe. It’s always a possibility. Sorry if I scared you.”

“Like I told you this morning,” Taeyong repeated. “You don’t scare me. I just want you to be up front with me.”

“Up front, huh?” Yuta paused, his eyes flitting over the floor in thought. “Truth is I’ve been worried about you since the Yamaguchi assassin. It’s always risky to take on a new recruit, or a lover for that matter,” Taeyong blushed at the word, “but up until that point I don’t think the danger felt as real. I would never forgive myself if I let something bad happen to you, Taeyong.”

One of the things Taeyong had been wondering about clicked into place for him. “Your dream last night…is that what – ”

“Yes. That’s part of why I was worried about frightening you. Thought I might have said something while unconscious about you, I don’t know, getting abducted or something.”

“You didn’t,” said Taeyong, breathing a laugh.

“Good.” Yuta smiled, gaze trained at the open window and fingers fiddling with the bottom of his blazer. Taeyong wondered if he was nervous to make eye contact. “And then later when you mentioned how you’re basically stuck with me, then I felt like shit all over again because it’s true: you’re essentially my hostage.” With that, Yuta finally looked Taeyong in the face. “I just don’t know what to do when you say things like that. I know this seems silly, I mean I’ve never shied away from doing arguably unethical things before, but I couldn’t help but ask myself if you even like me -- ”

The pressure that had been threatening to send Taeyong shooting out of his own body finally became too much, and in lieu of doing the impossible, he found himself damming up Yuta’s stream of consciousness with a kiss.

“There we go,” he teased, pulling away and reveling in the awestruck look on Yuta’s face. “I had to shut you up somehow.”

Yuta’s face hadn’t moved since the kiss ended and a smile was spreading over it like melting butter. “That’s no way to speak to your commander,” he teased back, sounding a little drunk on relief. Taeyong spoke.

“ Shategashira , I hope you can forgive me. But you are being ridiculous. I like you, okay? And it’s not because I’m scared or brainwashed. I like you because I like you . I like the way you make me feel. I’m sorry for making you think I wanted to leave.”

Yuta took Taeyong’s hand and kissed it. “ I’m sorry for being such a basket case. Aish, it’s embarrassing, huh?”

Taeyong snorted. “Oh please. If you weren’t insecure sometimes, I might actually be afraid of you.”

He smiled to himself, wondering for a moment if maybe he needed to stop thinking so much and just bask in the strange twist of fate that had brought him and Yuta together. They were still getting to know each other, but Taeyong had never been with someone so charismatic yet so open. If he was going to risk being kidnapped and tortured it might just end up being worth it. Taeyong allowed himself to be lost enough in thought that a few seconds felt like minutes and he barely heard it when the door flung open without warning. Yuta heard it though, wrenching his fingers from where they were laced between Taeyong’s.

“Yuta-san!” said Renjun as he entered the room trailed by Chenle. “What’s going on in here?”

Yuta glared. “Didn’t anyone teach you to knock? That’s very disrespectful.”

“Sorry, didn’t know you had anything to hide,” Chenle quipped. “Anyway, Kun is looking for you again.”

Yuta stood, reluctantly it seemed to Taeyong. “Why couldn’t he send someone else to fetch me?”

Chenle rolled his eyes as they left the room and on the way out Taeyong heard Renjun explain, “because, he told us if all we were gonna do was loiter he might as well put us to use.”

Taeyong giggled, catching himself when Yuta peered back through the door. “Hey, you can go home. Or stick around and make some friends, yeah?”

Taeyong nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, and Yuta rapped his knuckles against the door with a grin before he was gone. Taeyong stood, determined to have some Triad friends by the end of the day.

#my fanfic #my work #nct #nct 127 #yuta #nct fanfic #nakamoto yuta #taeyong #yutae #nct dream #noir #1980s! au #neothestars #yakuza #gang!au #nct 2020 #nctnetwrite #nct lee taeyong #nct nakamoto yuta

13 notes · View notes

guylty · 4 years

Text

My annual social media Lent is coming up. From Ash Wednesday I will abstain from Twitter for the next 6 and a half weeks (until Easter Sunday), allowing me to recalibrate a little and concentrate on other things. Such as my blog – or RAnet. That means I need blog fodder. Almost four weeks have passed since The Stranger launched on Netflix. Enough time to assume that most fans and readers have watched the show and will not be spoiled by the discussion of the show. Moreover, some more in-depth discussions have already started in the comments. Last weekend, for instance, we got into the intracacies of the “bar scene” in episode 4 of TS, talking about the casting, costuming and directing of that particular scene and how we, as women of a particular age reacted to that scene.

However, it would probably make more sense to start at the beginning. So anyone who’d like to discuss TS with me, you are welcome to write your observations, reactions and opinions in the comments. I know I am kind of launching into this without announcement. But by doing this episode by episode, I hope you can follow along and catch up with individual episode if need be. I’ll also try and summarise every episode at the beginning of each review post so we know what we are talking about. Hm, I may need to rewatch the show for that. The hardship!!! However, the discussion will probably focus on the plot… eh… Adam. Anyhow, I hope you’ll join me and share your thoughts either here – or your own blog, if you are blogging, too.

The Stranger – Episode 1 Recap

Prior to the trailer, TS starts with teenagers at a bonfire party, culminating in a naked boy escaping through the dark forest. The plot then begins with the Price boys driving in the car to the football club where younger son Ryan is trying out for the A team. While at the club, daddy Adam briefly speaks with his wife Corinne on the phone. She is away at a teachers’ conference while Adam looks after their sons. In the clubhouse, Adam is approached by “a stranger” who reveals a devastating secret to him: His wife faked her pregnancy a couple of years ago. He is shocked and disturbed.

Once back home after football training, Adam can’t resist checking the details the stranger passed on to him, and sure enough, his suspicions are confirmed – there is a credit card payment for a fishy website called Novelty Funsy, and the ultrasound scan of the miscarried baby does not quite match the ones of his two sons. Meanwhile, Adam’s elder son Thomas heads out to the bonfire party with his friends.

The next morning, police woman Johanna investigates a bizarre crime scene of a decapitated alpaca in the city centre. With her DS, she drives to a nearby alpaca farm to confirm where the animal came from. On their return trip their attention is attracted by some pieces of clothing in the forest. They follow the trail of clothes and find a naked body. The young man is still alive.

Adam meanwhile looks after his day job – he is the legal advisor to an obstinate tenant who refuses to move out of a house that has been earmarked for demolition. Upon his return, Corinne arrives back from her conference and Adam receives confirmation that the mysterious credit card payments are for a website that provides fake pregnancy products. He immediately confronts Corinne. She does neither deny nor explain why or what she did, only hinting that there is more to it than he thinks. The Prices spend the night in separate bedrooms.

The next morning Adam observes Corinne taking a phone call outside the house. She later suggests to Adam that they talk later that day after a school awards ceremony where she will explain all. However, Corinne never shows to the event. Adam receives a text message asking for some time apart.

The episode ends with Thomas revealing the decapitated alpaca head in his cupboard.

Episode 1 – Discuss

So, first of all – I have watched the first episode about three and a half times. Twice on my own, once with hubster, and finally today a quick run-through for the sake of the recap where I fast forwarded through a lot of scenes, focussing on Adam mostly. I couldn’t help it… My first response to the show at the very first viewing was – WOW! I remember that I was fully engaged during every minute of it – even the scenes and story lines that Richard did not feature in. Granted, I was most interested with the “grown-up” arcs, not least because anything involving drugs and other goings-on with teenagers makes *this* mama really worried. But having said that, I think the first episode was very effective in establishing the storylines and the characters. Hence the show spends most time following Adam (Richard Armitage) – as a father, as a lawyer and as a husband. Then there are the two police officers who also are presented as round characters – the middle-aged senior officer Johanna (Siobhan Finneran) approaching retirement who has just decided to split from her husband, and her much younger partner, a gay black man. Adam’s son Thomas also gets a good bit of screen time with his friends, making him more than just secondary. Other secondary characters include first and foremost Dervla Kirwan as Corinne, Stephen Rea as obstinate tenant Martin, and Jennifer Saunders as Johanna’s BFF Heidi.

So, the first watch was highly exciting and addictive, so much so that I basically binged the whole show. On second and subsequent views, I found the episode not quite as fast and exciting anymore – only natural, as a lot of time was actually spent setting up the characters and the various story lines: Johanna waking up in bed to her snoring husband; Johanna meeting Heidi in her café; observing the teenagers at their bonfire party; visiting Dante in hospital…

RA is the natural focal point from the get-go. Not only for fangirls, I might add. The show is really good at setting him up as the perfect family man who obviously has great rapport with his sons, both the “difficult” almost grown-up older son, but also the younger lad who needs a different kind of care than a young adult. I found the casting really great, with Thomas definitely matching the tall, dark, handsome vibes of TV-dad Richard, and younger boy Ryan more a mirror of his blond, curly-haired TV-mum. They all have great chemistry together, and found Misha Handley (Ryan) very natural and convincing. Jacob Dudman as Thomas was also great.

… really aged well… hehe

RA really shines in the confrontation scenes, both with the stranger and with his wife, when he has to convey both suppressed anger and outright fury at having been deceived. Both his major scenes with Corinne are very convincing, and I appreciated the decision to make Adam extremely angry, on the verge of volatile, when Corinne refuses to explain her actions. Adam’s anger is immediate, raw and confused and Armitage really draws the viewer on his side with his emotional outburst. So much so that I basically missed Dervla Kirwan’s nuanced acting in that scene. On second and subsequent viewings, once you know how the show ends and why she doesn’t want to talk immediately, you start to notice the little things: her refusal to talk has more to do with fear than with anger or denial. She is afraid of actually addressing the fact that the reason for her faked pregnancy will also bring another secret out in the open, and the subsequent discussion (which she had successfully avoided by faking the pregnancy in the first place) will now have to take place. What might have looked as callous or dismissive at first viewing, conveys much more detail the second time round: there is a sadness to Corinne that Kirwan expresses very subtly – in a slight pause, or the tiniest glance into the mid-distance. The same applies to their second and much calmer confrontation the next morning. What might have looked almost callous on first viewing, gains much more weight when you watch it with prior knowledge of the plot. When Adam says he has lost trust in her, Corinne replies “it hurts, doesn’t it?“. The question tag really stood out to me on first viewing. It confused me. Why is she phrasing it like that? It of course became clear in episode 4, but again, Kirwan really gave it a spin by loading it with subtle sadness that doesn’t only confuse the viewer but also Adam. Armitage here kept his response at just the right level of confusion without giving away how much Adam really recognises or understands what she was hinting at. RA reacts with great detail expressions. No words are needed. And in hindsight you can see how he begins to wonder whether she knows about his affair. Loved it.

Let’s talk a bit about Armitage’s look in this show. Such a spectacle!

Yes, I like details like that. The jury is still out on whether this is a prescription that Armitage wrote into the script himself 😂, or whether we just had a costume department that is on the ball. Yes, it’s time for the presbyopic lenses. Happens to most of us at around middle age. 🤓 I found it a lovely detail that makes Adam more relatable. Because – a dad bod he has not.

Even if he claims he does. I find this a rather attractive package for a middle aged family man. Also:

Bonus WRP. Needs no further elaboration

But to get back to the look and style – I enjoyed the casual style of Adam. Once again, it felt right – nothing too fancy, with windbreaker, jeans and shirts, and even a tracksuit at home, the perfect attire for a father of two (pre-) teen sons. I was surprised how good RA looked in other colours than just black and blue. The red polo shirt was very nice on him.

I can’t say I am as convinced of the costumes provided for Corinne. In fact, I think there were some rather sledge-hammer style decisions going on there, putting the wife and mother into rather dowdy, pale pink mom trousers and giving her a hole-pattern, fluffy knit jumper. Then there was that turquoise dress that went slightly longer than her knees – apparently the work wear for female teachers in English private schools, judging by an equally frumpy outfit for Corinne’s colleague and friend Vicky? (This observation I will come back to in a later post once we get to episode 4.) It just kind of made me think that Corinne was made to look older and less casual than her husband who even attends to his client in jeans and shirt…

Police officer Johanna Griffin OTOH looked *real* and great. (I kept double-taking because O’Brien’s severe look kept coming back to me.) And I loved Heidi’s funky style – very much the slightly crazy café-owner with a café as stylish as herself… And can we also mention the Price’s residence here? There were only quick first glimpses of their house – but oh, that stylist made it a gorgeous family home. The garden was beautiful but I can take it or leave it. Too much work – I don’t like to get my fingers dirty. But the dining area with the floor-to-ceiling windows and the sleek white kitchen? Big win, especially because it doesn’t look like a showroom but has photos on the fridge and a mess on the counters.

So episode 1 gets a big thumbs up from me – for introducing us to almost all the characters (some held back for more surprise later on) and establishing the plot. Yes, there is a lot going on here, which I haven’t even all mentioned in the recap: the stranger dropping her first bomb, the Price family life, the secret in Corinne’s past, the tenant who refuses to move out of his home, the colleague who has trouble with her pre-teen daughter, the teenagers who are partying under the influence of drugs, the mystery of the boy who was hunted through the forest, the curious story of the decapitated alpaca, an almost-comic police duo, a police officer who is splitting up with her hubby, her friend, the funky café owner, the gregarious neighbour, the busybody football trainer… Too much? I’d say a lot of it is deliberate overload to distract us, yet give us some extra info about the characters, their work, their life and their environment.

The strategy definitely works when you watch the show for the first time. You are busy dealing with Richard Armitage’s overwhelming handsomeness taking it all in. The questions only really pop up when you watch again. Such as: When stoned Mike takes the alpaca for a walk into the city centre, why is there no CCTV footage? I mean, nowadays there is hardly *any* urban area that does *not* have CCTV on shops and banks or traffic spots. How come no one saw him decapitating the alpaca, in a city centre? And how did he manage to decapitate it anyway`- it’s hardly a one-chop job?Likewise and with hindsight we know now that Corinne’s text message was not sent by her at all: But how did the sender actually know the password to Corinne’s phone to send that message? I mean, don’t all people lock their phone with a password these days? Possibly nit-picking questions, but that’s the fun of it, isn’t it? You can enjoy a show immensely – and still want to pick a few holes into the plot just to see whether you are cleverer than the writer 😉.

There is probably so much more to discuss, but for the sake of getting the discussion started, here is the post. What is your take on the first episode of TS? Any agreements with me, or disagree? Other points of interest? Let me know in the comments!

Let’s Talk About… #TheStranger – Episode 1 My annual social media Lent is coming up. From Ash Wednesday I will abstain from Twitter for the next 6 and a half weeks (until Easter Sunday), allowing me to recalibrate a little and concentrate on other things.

#Adam Price #Richard Armitage #The Stranger

15 notes · View notes

deathlygristly · 4 years

Text

So today for funsies I searched for trauma and traumatized on Reddit.

It is certainly an education.

It’s healthy and helpful too. I get into shame spirals because my default assumption is that everything I do and think and feel is wrong and other people know best. They know the right way to think and to feel and to be.

But lol yeah, I just saw a lot of people making harsh imperative statements and negative judgements without any knowledge or understanding to back them up.

It’s always good to get a reminder that often people who are yelly and loud and mean don’t actually know the right way to think and to feel and to be.

Cut because talk of trauma

Also I think that maybe people with PTSD, the sort that comes from one traumatic event, don’t always understand complex PTSD, the sort that comes from repeated traumas over a long period of time.

I guess that comes along with the people who really think that only people in the military can be traumatized and people who think that if it’s not in the DSM it’s not real.

Saw someone saying that they had only ever been triggered twice, when they saw the offender out in public, and that nothing on the internet could be triggering.

My “offender” gave birth to me, and then after my father died she dated other offenders. I text my “offender” every day to check up on her, since she’s now 70 years old and living alone. I spent almost all my developmental years living alone with my “offender.”

Her offenders, as far as I know, were her mother and her first husband. I don’t know who their offenders were.

I don’t want to gatekeep trauma and I don’t want to compete in the Trauma Olympics, but I do think that maybe it’s not a super good thing to go around judging people whose experiences, and whose reactions to their experiences, are different from yours.

I’m glad that person only had one traumatic event. I’m glad that the only thing that triggers them is the physical presence of whoever hurt them that one time. I’m glad that nothing online can trigger them. I just wish they were faster to try and understand others than to judge.

I guess part of that may be the lack of information about complex PTSD. I also found a thread of teachers discussing “trauma-informed” programs at their schools, and one person said the presentation about it at their school was the first time they’d ever heard the term. And like I said, complex PTSD is not really part of the popular knowledge and media about trauma like single event PTSD is.

Also saw a discussion of Catra in She-Ra and her trauma, and how trauma is usually gendered in media. What I found most interesting though was that the trauma narratives outlined for each gender by the OP both included a “before” state. They said a woman was supposed to return to a happy cheerful toxic positivity “before” state, and a man was supposed to be accepted by a female partner despite not ever being able to return to a “before” state.

I don’t have a “before” state to return to. One of my earliest memories is one of the worser of the traumatic experiences I grew up with, and it was followed a year or two later by my father’s sudden death, leaving me with only the parent who was involved in that very early experience.

I don’t think Catra had a “before” state to return to either and her trauma would definitely be complex, since she was abducted as an infant and trained to be a child soldier.

I guess the point of this post is that actually most of the time the yelly people are ignorant of many things about the subject they’re yelling about, and they’re not absolutely right no matter how much they try to make it sound like they are, and it’s not worth getting into shame spirals about what they say.

And also that complex PTSD and single event PTSD are different, and I think maybe we need to teach people more about complex PTSD.

4 notes · View notes

shikastemari · 5 years

Text

— out of character; shikatema. ࿐ྂ。

written for ShikaTema Week 2019 | days 01 - online dating AU

words | 1082

rating | T

a/n | hey folks. so today starts shikatema week and my exams week so i won’t be able to post this week, might do some late submissions, but i just didn’t want to post nothing during the week so i tried my best to finish this one in time. this ain’t beta’d so ignore the mistakes and hopefully, it’s not too ooc. writing for shikatema is hard, but for modern au? cjadjklfhadkljhfjka how the fuck am i not dead yet.

it’s not jun 28 here yet, but i heard it’s midnight in best city?? so it counts lmao

masterlist in bio

Temari always thought of herself as collected, steady, realistic. She didn’t daydream, and when she did, it was rarely about the future. She had her goals in life set and it didn’t involve anyone, but her - and maybe a few dogs. Relationships were never something she gave too much thought, let alone kids.

So, thinking about building a life with someone she met online was so unlike her, and still, she never was so certain about something before. But the thoughts had hit her like a truck the past few weeks and she still couldn’t drop it.

Her phone buzzed next to her in bed and she grabbed the device reluctantly.

It wasn’t him. Again.

He didn’t text her the whole day and Temari hated it bothered her. She hated how a single individual could make her question things her mind was already settled. Hated how he made her wonder how it would be like if she changed her priorities.

He became a priority of hers and she didn’t even know how.

Temari would never understand why she decided to download one of those dating apps. Just for funsies, she convinced herself. Not like it was the first time, anyway. Many times she had done it before, just to see who was there, swipe right a few times, but always keeping her distance.

She couldn’t even remember when she swiped right for him, or if they matched right away. As usual, she carried on.

His first message came a few days after and it took her a few hours to see it. A lot of guys had texted so far, but she never answered. She couldn’t see the point of starting a conversation if she didn’t want anything.

It was about time she deleted the damn app.

But before she did, somehow, his message got her attention. It wasn’t a cheesy pickup line - which later, Temari would be surprised, since being cheesy was kind of his thing - or a message complimenting her about her looks.

It was a message about the weather.

Somehow, it got her curious about the kind of game he was playing. She tried to think which pickup line response could follow it, but nothing came to her mind.

>> what about the weather??

She didn’t bother to even say hi. He hadn’t too.

>> Decent. Don’t you think?

Temari frowned twice. She thought about not replying, but she was bored and had nothing to do. A distraction didn’t sound so bad.

So, she replied back and that was how it all started.

Regrets about texting him back wouldn’t cross her mind, she was sure of it. The whole thing was fun, harmless and innocent even if it would last one night only.

One night, she guessed. The thing was: Temari was never that good in math.

He texted her again two days later and it happened again. The endless conversation, with random mixed topics. The whole day, without any breaks, or dead points. Every time Temari felt the conversation was about to die, he would come up with a new topic out of nowhere and she would happily tag along. He was easy to talk to, and she hated it.

The next day, she messaged him, completely dread. He didn’t reply right away, which almost made her delete what she sent. For some reason, she didn’t.

Temari had never met someone like him. The perfect balance of wittiness, intelligence, and annoyance in one person. He could easily make her want to slap and hug him at the same time and the whole situation was so new and just different from everything she had known so far. But weirdly enough, she enjoyed.

His reply came one hour later together with an apology note, saying he was working, which led to more questions. More replies. More hours talking.

Talking to Shikamaru was natural. Countless times her friends or brother asked her why she was smiling at her phone, she just shrugged off the question, saying it was memes or whatever she could think of. Sometimes, they would flirt and Temari would get strawberry red, and she liked it.

She hated how much she liked it.

As days went by, he managed to be a part of her routine. Looking at her phone was a habit she didn’t notice she had. Many times, she got herself saying his mannerisms and she would laugh at herself of how stupid it sounded, then she would do it again.

The most logical thing was to forget about it. Stop replying to him, cut contact, move on with her life. All the time his message popped up, she could’ve ignored, but there wasn’t one single time she wanted to do it. She kept texting him back, texting him first or just randomly asking for calls when she felt like it.

Temari was fully aware of how complicated meeting each other would be. When they matched, he visited her city for work issues and as soon as he came, he left. He didn’t come back since, and the distance between their Villages did make it harder.

Yet, she couldn’t let it go. She couldn’t let him go.

She should’ve known better before establishing emotional intimacy with someone so… Him.

It was ridiculous, she realized, as she moved, annoyed, in her bed. Temari couldn’t understand what was going on between them, their dynamic was nothing like she has seen before. She had no idea why she kept talking to him, or if she should even continue and yet...

Her phone buzzed again and his name popped up on her screen.

>> I want a pug.

But she couldn’t help herself. There were a few things she fancied about the whole thing. Shikamaru’s mind and to hear about his point of views. To annoy him, and to be annoyed by him. To just melt every time he said something sap, and to pretend it didn’t affect her at all. To argue about her favorite movies, and to judge his poor taste in food. She was certain she could write a whole list of 50 reasons why she was still doing it easily.

Her fingers moved fast as she typed back.

She knew she shouldn’t, she really did, but she hit reply anyway.

>> pugs are rePUGnant, kiddo.

>> Excuse me? You take that back.

She smiled, as the butterflies filled her stomach again. You’re ridiculous, she thought, not being sure if it was for herself or for the guy waiting for her reply and she hated it.

The thing she hated the most about it was that she didn’t hate it, at all.

#temari #temari nara #shikamaru #shikamaru nara #shikatema #shikatemaweek2019 #shikatema week 2019 #had good inspiration for this fic #wish i could finish all of them for this week #sadly exams just looked at me and went like nope you're not doing it #i tried guys #no one kidnapped me in time for me to run away from my exams

74 notes · View notes

ladymdc · 5 years

Text

Wandering in the Dark

Well, I finished it.

Pairing: Cullen Rutherford x F!mage Trevelyan (Noir AU/dark future/1930s) Rating: Explicit (for occasional smut, like 3 instances) Word Count: ~75,500 Chapters: 19/19 Summary: In a world on the verge of collapse, C.S. Rutherford did what he could to survive, at least until a routine case led him down a path he never expected to cross, and a dame with dark verdant eyes and a sharp wit strode into his office.

With nothing as it seemed, including her, perhaps it all wasn’t as hopeless as he thought.

Read it from the beginning - here & I have included CH.1 under the cut for funsies. ((For those who have been keeping up with it, I’ve included a direct link to the CH18 & I’m sure you can find the final chapter from there :D))

Special thanks to the following people: @laraslandlockedblues, @windysuspirations, @kawakaeguri, @machatnoir, @softlyue, @fadetastic, @laurelsofhighever, & @mssaboteur ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ I may not talk to all of them every day or at all anymore, but I wanted to say thanks for supporting/encouraging me in some way at some point in this journey. I sincerely couldn’t have done this without you.

The Resistance was irretrievably over; everything that could have been done had been done. He had never thought they would succeed, only a fool would believe they could, but he had never thought he would live to see the day the last Theirin was wiped from the face of Thedas.

This wasn’t the first time such rumors circulated, but it would be the last. Front and center on today’s paper was undeniable proof. The Theirin family crest affixed to the lapel of Amladaris’ suit jacket was a subtle but devastating blow to anyone still clinging to hope the Golden Age would someday return.

It had been over a decade since he last saw Alistair, but the loss stung no less for it. Perhaps even more so knowing the last words spoken to the man he once called a Brother were venomous and full of resentment. Now, there would never be an opportunity to correct that wrong, but it wasn’t like he had been going out of his way in an attempt to do so anyway. All that was left was to hope Alistair’s death was quick and painless. Though based on the sinister curl of Amladaris’ lip, it was anything but.

The thought did nothing for the migraine that had been plaguing him all morning. In addition to the throbbing tendrils taking root deep in his skull, there was also a slight halo around objects, a shimmery haze that wasn’t precisely seeing double but close enough to be an annoyance. It was one of those post-lyrium side effects he’d long since come to terms with. Once the coup took place, it was either risk injecting a tainted dose or quit.

It was an easy decision.

Automatically, he popped some aspirin into his mouth, swallowed it dry and reached for a cigarette. He tapped it twice on the desk and tucked it into the corner of his mouth before he brought the cupped lighter up, despising the slight tremor of his hands. He smoked in long, steady pulls. Repeatedly, his gaze dropped to the newspaper before him then at his watch to read the time as if it would somehow make it move faster. Eventually, the pounding in his head subsided only to be replaced by the telltale click-clack of high heels.

His interest was instantly piqued, and it had nothing to do with the shapely silhouette he could discern through the frosted glass. A lot could be determined by someone’s gait. The speed and force of their steps and the sounds it produced could indicate a wide array of emotions. This client didn’t possess the terrible wrath of a woman wronged nor the hesitant curiosity of one who suspects. She appeared to exude an air of calm indifference. A rare thing in a world gripped by fear and ruin.

Then, without one iota of hesitation, the door opened.

The woman was beautiful; her wavy, brunette hair smooth and shining. Her full lips an agreeable shade of ruby red. Her dark verdant eyes boldly held his gaze. Something flashed in their depths, green and bright, but then she blinked, and it was gone. One corner of her mouth lifted lazily.

“Rutherford.”

He could feel a sudden heat on the back of his neck at the way his name rolled off her tongue but was determined to pretend it wasn’t there. Her accent was Marcher, mixed with something else he couldn’t quite place.

She shut the door and took a seat in one of the two intentionally uncomfortable, wooden chairs before him. The woman looked at him expectantly.

Rutherford cleared his throat and mashed his cigarette into Amladaris’ left eye. “It seems I’m at a disadvantage, Miss—“

The marginal quirk of her lip became almost amused. “Trevelyan.”

His gut locked up; bile burned in his throat. Rutherford pressed his finger and thumb into the corners of his eyes. Trying to stamp out the visions swimming through his mind. It had been three years since Lord Protector Sethius Amladaris took control, and not a day went by that he was reminded of his unknowing role in the coup.

Having the propensity to keep his head down and work, he took notice something was off much too late. By the time Hawke stormed into his office to scream scathing accusations of his involvement, the damage had already been done. Lyrium tainted with Red had been injected into a majority of their ranks at evening rations. Red not only warped the mind but after the first hit, there was no turning back for without it there was only death. With only one source for the terrible substance available, turning the Order against country and crown was simple.

Only those with rank were given a choice. General Trevelyan was the first to refuse. Rutherford, the second. The difference, however, was only he lived because by way of answer, Rutherford put a bullet between Major General Stannard’s Red-tainted eyes.

Meeting the late General Trevelyan’s daughter’s inquisitive stare, he scraped his bottom teeth over his top lip where the scar from escaping the ordeal was. There was a brief flash of prickling numbness. He immediately regretted drawing attention to it as her eyes briefly roamed over his mouth. The room suddenly felt far too warm. It would be easier not to make eye contact, but it would be cowardly to look away.

Rutherford yanked on the knot of his tie to loosen it. “Why are you here?” It came out much harsher than he would have liked.

She ignored the outburst. “I have use of someone with your talents.”

“Talents?” He scoffed, fishing out another cigarette. The dregs of his migraine were flaring up with force.

“Yes, talents,” she insisted.

Twice, he tapped the cigarette on the desk. “And what might those be?” As far as he was aware, failure and survival were his only ‘talents.’ He had an odd propensity for both.

“We both know why you keep checking your watch.”

Despite the seriousness of her insinuation, he couldn’t help smiling. “And what makes you think you know anything about me?” He asked before fitting the cigarette in his mouth and lighting it.

“Are you sure you want to play this game?” she asked, plucking off some unnoticeable piece of offense from her charcoal grey skirt before returning her dark green eyes to his amber. “Because I do know everything about you.”

Rutherford leaned back in the chair and crossed ankle over knee. “Please.” He blew his smoke out defiantly. “Do tell.”

She smiled tolerantly though his cigarette smoke. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford, the second eldest child of four. Mia, the eldest, your brother Branson, and Rosalie the youngest. You joined the Royal Order the day you turned eighteen. At twenty, you took your first lyrium dose, and your parents died that same year as the Blight ran rampant through the countryside. Then came Kinloch—”

“Enough,” he gritted out. A breath hissed out of him, and he turned his head to avoid her piercing gaze. It took a while before he noticed the dull ache in his jaw from clenching his teeth as he glared at the newspaper displaying the result of his most devastating failure.

“He’s alive you know,” she said, tipping her chin toward the paper.

“No shit.”

Trevelyan made a sound that could have been a laugh. “Don’t be thick.”

“I’m not. I—“ He sat up a little straighter when Trevelyan suddenly stood but didn’t rise as he should have.

“You are,” she insisted as she braced one arm on the desk and leaned over. Her long, flowing locks fell over her shoulder. The scent of her, sweet and floral with notes of something akin to spring rains, wafted his direction. Briefly, it overpowered the smoke thick in the air around him. Rutherford was momentarily struck a little dumb by it.

The motion of her hair drew his attention away from her face toward… other assets. The neckline of her white blouse cut dangerously low and there was little for him to do but glare at her when she looked up at him from beneath her lashes. He knew what she was doing, and he hated it worked so easily, especially because he jumped a little when the silk of her glove brushed his fingers.

Smirking, Trevelyan placed his cigarette between her lips and tucked something into his hand. The metal was warm, and he errantly wondered how warm she’d feel, but then his thumb reflexively ran along the familiar grooves.

His stomach bottomed out. “This could be any coin,” he snapped, holding the silver and gold coin between finger and thumb for emphasis.

“It could,” she agreed. “But it isn’t. Did you know you’re bleeding?” With the cigarette pointing down and held between thumb and middle finger, she touched the very tip of her nose.

Rutherford scrambled to find a handkerchief, but his shirt was already ruined. While he attempted to clean himself up and staunch the flow, she took one long drag and held the cigarette back out to him. He hesitated to take it, distracted by the bright red imprint of her lips upon it.

After a moment of inaction, she leaned forward and placed it between his slightly parted lips and a quiet thrill ran through him at her forwardness. The faint taste of her only served to agitate him further, and she knew it.

That semi-amused curve to her mouth was back. “I can always find someone else, so come along or don’t, it matters not to me. Either way you have your luck back. Perhaps that’s all that’s been missing all these years.” At that she buttoned a single button on her jacket, further accentuating the curve of her waist and the swell of her breasts, and departed.

The woman never even hinted at what she wanted from him. Like the eye of storm, she was serene and a tad refreshing, but then left chaos and destruction in her wake. His mind was positivity reeling at what she vaguely suggested as he was left with far too many questions and not a single answer.

Rutherford owed Alistair his life. If it weren’t for the Wardens, he would have rotted in Kinloch. At the time, he felt there was nothing to thank them for. The mistakes he made were too grave, the horrors endured too fresh, and his wounds still weeping. Time healed the latter. The former two points, however… Well, they never left, and only more had been added over time. But if there was a way for him to take something he fucked up and make it right, he shouldn’t still be sitting there.

He snuffed the cigarette out on Amladaris’ right eye. There were few things he needed to grab, all within reach. Smokes, lighter, jacket and his emergency bag which contained an assortment of necessities and a good deal of cash should the regime ever care to come after him again. Within moments he was able to rush after her.

“Wait! I—“ he came to a grinding halt at the sight of her leaning against a car expectantly.

“Well, that didn’t take long did it?” Her voice was full of dry amusement.

He scowled. “Shut up.”

“And here I thought you’d be glad to see I waited.” Trevelyan’s pout shifted into something openly appraising as her gaze blatantly raked up his body. “I know I’m glad to see you’re interested.”

He was blushing. Knew he was blushing and the laziest smile he’d ever seen blooming across her lovely face did nothing to alleviate it. Rutherford pinched the bridge of his nose because that… that was dangerous. His entire body had heated through, and it had everything to do with the way she seemed to know how to push all of his buttons.

She laughed then, a high and bright sound that made his hand drop reflexively. Her smile widened a little when their gazes locked once again. His heart was racing, and he was confused as to why.

“Alright grump,” she chirped, opening the passenger door. “Get in. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

Her laughter and choice of address were unexpected, and he felt himself breathing out a small huff of amusement as he stepped off the curb and reached in to toss his bag into the backseat. “What did you just call me?”

“Grump.”

“No. Don’t. I don’t like it,” he said, voice muffled from trying, in vain, to wipe away the stupid grin stretching across his face as he stood straight. The smile felt odd, maybe because it felt real.

“Are you sure? It seems like you do very much.”

What he did like, oddly enough, was how her standing on the curb put her almost face to face with him. “I really don’t.” He shook his head, smile finally fading away. “Preferably Rutherford, or Cullen if you must.”

“Alright, Cullen,” she said very slowly as if savoring the feel of his name in her mouth. She extended out a gloved hand. “Preferably Evelyn, or Trevelyan if you must.”

It took him a moment, almost a moment too long but he accepted. It wasn’t a handshake, it was something else, and it bothered him. He abruptly pulled his hand back and clenched it into a fist at his side to prevent himself from wiping it off on his pants.

Her expression shifted. It was subtle, but Rutherford breathed a little easier at the hardness in her eyes for the last thing he deserved was anyone’s warmth or acceptance no matter how much he may want it deep down.

#my writing #mdcwrites #dragon age fanfic #dragon age #cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #modern cullen rutherford #evelyn isla trevelyan #noir au #wandering in the dark #I finished A Thing #*strikes Will Smith pose thru tears*#then #*pterodactyl screech*

56 notes · View notes