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stubbychaos · 4 years

Text

Rose Golden

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Paz Vizla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: Your newest companion takes you somewhere safe and special after a long week of work so he can give you a thoughtful present. In the process, you learn that you’re not the biggest fan of heights.

Rated: T because Paz drops an F-bomb and there are suggestive themes regarding abuse and injuries.

Word count: 7,500 (I sincerely did not mean for this chapter to be so long and then I got carried away in editing--oops)

Warnings: There’s really none in this chapter, except for a brief mention of reader’s abusive father and a clumsy moment that leaves the reader with a bruise. This is honestly mostly playful bantering and adorable flirting between Paz and his nurse.

Author’s note will be at the end of the chapter! :)

You don’t expect to see the blue Mandalorian only eight days after he carries you home, but you can’t stop the large smile that spreads across your now healed lips upon finding him leaning against the exterior of the shoddy infirmary right after the sun has gone down. A few crimson rays of sunlight still linger and bathe the Mandalorian in a lovely glow, contrasting drastically with his dull blue armor and making it look as though he polished and shined it just recently.

He stands far taller compared to a few late night stragglers and you immediately frown when a passing Twi'lek hisses at him in a feral manner, though the Mandalorian simply ignores the rude gesture, deeming the offended creature as unworthy of his effort or time. It’s almost like watching a baby porg attempt to square up with a Wampa and you’re certain that the blue warrior is amused by the poor attempt at intimidation.

You’re a little surprised that someone would willingly try to get underneath the massive warrior’s skin and you’re even more surprised when the Twi’lek sends a disgusting yellow-tinted wad of spit in the direction of your Mandalorian’s big boots in a disrespectful manner.

His blue helm slowly tips downwards and to the side to finally regard the much smaller Twi’lek and while he dons his sacred helmet, you find it amusing how he’s still able to convey an irritated glare through the guise of the thick metal. Without even saying a word or moving to stand taller in front of the Twi’lek, your Mandalorian somehow threatens him with a simple cock of his helmet and a massive hand moving to the handle of his smaller blaster. It’s something you find impressive and you suddenly grow jealous that he can exude such terrifying energy so easily.

As you watch the magenta-tinged creature give the Mandalorian one last sneer before stalking past him, you wonder why anyone in their right mind would find it a good idea to mess with someone with such a terrifying aura. Upon meeting him for the first time, you had been too afraid to even talk to him or even look into his shiny visor, let alone scoff at him or even think about spitting on his boots. You wonder if this is a typical reaction he gets everywhere he goes and you think it must get exhausting after having to deal with it for so long.

Does it bother him? Or has he simply resigned to a life of judgment and persecution?

You can’t even imagine displaying so much disrespect and resentment towards someone who had inflicted absolutely no harm or offense on you, though you think that the Twi’lek, nor many others in the village, are aware of the concept of manners.

His visor is dutifully scanning the streets and you beam the second it lands on you as you make your way over to him with a little skip in your step; you notice the small canvas bag he holds tightly in one hand and the way the fingers of his free hand loosely curl against his thigh. His shoulders, still tense from the silent encounter with the Twi’lek, deflate as he drops his helmet to regard you properly and you smile at the way he seems to relax at the sight of you, as if it’s something he’s been thinking about all day.

Perhaps he has, just as you have thought of him nearly every moment of every day since your last meeting with him.

No, you're definitely not infatuated with the massive warrior and everything about him.

Even though you’re obviously no threat to him, the way he greets you with a kind nod and a gentle rasp of your name has you feeling a severe depth of respect for the warrior. Selfishly, you ponder if you’re the only one outside of his tribe that he seems to tolerate, understanding that you don’t have any ulterior motives when it comes to his Creed or what he hides under that scuffed up bucket.

“I’m surprised to see you so soon, Mandalorian,” You greet him with a tilt of your own head, mimicking his own actions, “I thought it would be at least another month before I saw you again.”

His helmet cocks further to the side and you think he must be amused by your soft sentiment as his fingers flex against his big, padded thighs, “Did I not warn you that you would see me sooner than you would wish for?”

Your brows rise high on your forehead and you shake your head a little at the stubborn warrior’s smug inquiry, “And what if I wished for you sooner than the week’s end?”

"Then I would think you missed me or something."

The way he speaks is so gruff and nonchalant that you think he must be covering up something softer in his modulated voice and you can’t help but to smile at his unwillingness to show you any kind of intense emotion. His helmet lowers even more until his visor is eye level with you and you’re sure that he’s judging you through the guise of that irritating blue armor, though you simply ignore it and continue to peer up at the warrior with unrelenting sass.

Something that he seems to thoroughly revel in.

“You miss me, saviin’ika? Is that why you were dying to see me?”

“Perhaps I just missed having someone to walk me home to scare off all the bad guys,” You cross your arms over your chest as a knowing smile spreads across your lips and you shift your weight to one leg, “Don’t flatter yourself, Mandalorian. Cockiness doesn’t suit you.”

He makes a funny noise that seems to catch in his throat and you grin at him when you realize he’s trying not to laugh at your words.

“If I remember correctly--” He sounds utterly amused as he idly rolls his helmet around and you nearly cringe when you hear joints cracking in his stiff neck, “I didn’t walk you home last time--I carried you. ‘Was even nice enough to even take off your shoes and take out your braids, or were you too sleepy to remember?”

“I remember all too well.”

Your cheeks burn furiously as you’re suddenly aware of the thick braids currently tugging at your scalp and you remember how gentle and graceful his fingers had felt as he deftly loosened your plaits while you struggled to not fall asleep. Your tongue is suddenly heavy and fuzzy in your mouth when you think of how you’ve fallen asleep every night since your last encounter, longing and yearning for the pleasant, soothing touch of his rough fingertips massaging the soreness from your scalp. You try to remember the last time anyone has ever touched you without any ill intentions and you think of your mother, with such soft and tender hands that would gracefully part thick strands of hair before skillfully plaiting them.

The thought of a huge Mandalorian attempting to braid your hair nearly makes you giggle out loud, though you think he wouldn’t be too terrible at it since his fingers hadn’t struggled in the slightest against your intricate plaits.

Even though the memories of your mother combing and braiding your long locks is all but a faded memory, you’re certain that the blue Mandalorian’s touch had somehow been gentler than hers--caressing your cheeks and lips as though you were a jagged shard of glass that would somehow pierce his thick armor. Was he afraid of accidentally hurting you despite knowing you can take a hard hit to the face and bounce back like it didn’t even affect you? You knew you were quite small, especially compared to him, but he had reassured you during your last meeting that he did not believe you to be weak.

You suddenly wonder if the warrior fears you more than you had once feared him, though you can’t think of a rational reason at to why someone bred and born to not feel fear would feel it towards someone like you?

He’s still observing you intensely when you finally muster up the strength to speak softly, “I never thanked you for that--taking my braids out. My hair would have been a tangled mess in the morning if it weren’t for you.”

“You didn’t have to thank me,” His baritone drops the slightest and you find your cheeks growing even hotter at the gruffness of his modulated voice; you’re skin feels like burning coals as he continues to talk, keeping his shiny visor trained intensely on your face, “Your eyes are very expressive, saviin’ika.”

You lower your head a little, hoping that he doesn’t see how flushed your face must be as you speak softly and shakily, “Is that a compliment, Mandalorian?”

“Do you want it to be one?”

Pushing himself off the wall, he lazily closes the short distance between the two of you, stoic and calm as ever. You briefly wonder if he ever gets worried or stressed, but something about the way he carries himself so gracefully and confidently makes you think it’s not often others attempt to challenge him.

You give up on your prayers to the Maker for your blue Mandalorian to not notice the intense blush in your cheeks, realizing that he must have some sort of advanced technology in the damn helmet to detect the heat rising to the surface of your skin.

He lowers his helmet until his metal chin is nearly poking your nose before he slightly tilts it to the side; you’re not sure how such an action could be simultaneously soft and intense, yet he somehow manages it and you suppress a shaky exhale when he reaches forward to skim the tips of his leather-clad fingers along the outer shell of your ear. The violet tucked there must be close to falling, because he plucks it away from your cartilage and deftly situates it somewhere in the thick braid that’s wrapped around the crown of your head.

Your own voice drops to a low murmur as he fixes another flower that you tucked in your braid earlier; you find it endearing that he seems so hellbent on making sure none of your vibrant flowers fall from your unusually tamed mane.

“What would you think of me if I wanted it to be a compliment?”

A noise that’s reminiscent of a grunt getting caught in his modulator has you smiling a little wider as he shakes his helmet at your harmless question, though it seems to have him utterly flustered as he speaks in a more rushed tone, “I wouldn’t think of you any differently, but if it is rare for you to be complimented, I wouldn’t mind doing it more. You… I think... fuck...”

He seems to grow slightly shy and you smile demurely at how captivating someone so large and intimidating can be so nervous with something as simple as giving a compliment; you think him to be an enigma, in more ways than one.

“You think me to be what, Mandalorian?”

He shakes his helmet again and promptly changes the subject; you wonder if he’ll ever admit to you what he truly wanted to say--what he thought about you.

“I think you look well rested,” He observes out loud and you ponder if he’s smiling underneath that blue helmet as he swiftly deflects your gentle question, “Your injuries look a lot better as well. The bruising is no longer there and there’s barely a mark on your lip."

You grin up at him, eyes sparkling as you admire the way the moonlight reflects off of his blue armor, “Thanks to you, Mandalorian. I really did not wish for you to use that salve on me; I’ve had worse than a bruised cheek or a split lip.”

Immediately, you realize you should not have said that as his fingers curl into loose fists at his sides and you let out a tired sigh.

Why do you always manage to stick your foot in your mouth?

“How much worse?”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” You murmur, avoiding the intense gaze of his shiny visor to stare at the geometric shape embedded into his cuirass instead, “It is nothing I am incapable of handling myself.”

“Do you not get tired of taking care of everyone and never having someone to take care of you?”

The tone of his voice is tender and something about the genuine curiosity of his question leaves you without any breath in your lungs, as if he’s some sort of thief. Nobody has ever asked you something of that nature and you’re certain it’s because nobody has ever cared like he seems to; you don’t find it fair for someone to feel such concern for you.

You suddenly feel undeserving of all the sentiments he’s showered you with, but you will accept them for as long as he chooses to tolerate your presence.

“I take care of myself, Mandalorian,” You inform him with a sad smile, shaking your head a little when his shoulders tense, “Always have and always will.”

“You need someone, saviin’ika,” He insists, gently grabbing your chin and urging you to look up at his visor, “Everybody needs someone.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you spot all of the scuffed up marks and divots in his deep blue helmet, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

You feel flustered and timid suddenly, realizing you’re just like him in the sense that you’re not used to expressing your own emotions and you feel impossibly small and vulnerable when he lightly squeezes your chin.

“Are you not my friend?”

A leather index finger grazing your jawline has you nearly coming undone as he speaks with that deep baritone, “I can be whatever you want me to be, saviin’ika.”

“What if I’m not sure what I want you to be?”

His leather digits lazily and dutifully skim the little valley between your chin and bottom lip, “I think you already know.”

His fingers move upwards to where your cheek had once been nearly the same shade of his dull armor, though it’s now healed into a light, barely-there yellow tint and you’re reminded of how he had taken care of you just a week ago. When you had first woke up after a few peaceful hours of sleep, you had initially thought you dreamt the previous night--him carrying you home and tending to your minor wounds with the bacta salve you had given him. Upon looking in the mirror when you first arrived at your office, you had been pleasantly surprised to find that the black and blue bruise had turned into a healthier shade of yellow and the tiny gash on your bottom lip was barely a scar. If you tried to imagine it hard enough, you swore you could still feel his index finger trailing up the apple of your cheek and to the tip of your ear; you swore you could still feel his rough, skilled fingers rubbing comfort into your sore scalp.

You had longed to feel his rough fingers on your face again and as a leather digit currently strokes the tail of your brow, you wonder if it would be hard to convince him to remove his glove again.

With an intense blush turning your cheeks a vibrant shade of pink, you ponder what else he can do with those fingers--those graceful hands.

When he doesn’t say anything else, you gesture to the canvas bag that he’s still tightly gripping in a large hand and clear your throat a little, though your voice sounds slightly coarse and wavering, “What’cha got there? Do some shopping in the marketplace?”

“Not quite,” He hesitates as he slowly lowers his helmet, his visor shifting between you and whatever is in the bag, “I want to take you somewhere, if that is alright with you. It's a safe place that nobody knows about."

You perk up, not wanting to go home and having to deal with your father’s anger yet, so you nod enthusiastically and immediately wrap your fingers into the crook of his padded elbow, as if it’s pure instinct at this point and you suppose it is. Though you’ve only ran into him three times, you think that after the night when he had carried you home and tended to your wounds, you would trust the Mandalorian to guide you anywhere on Nevarro, as long as he was there with you. Everyone always avoids the big warrior and you’re sure that if anyone attempted to cross him, he would deal with the situation swiftly and efficiently.

The Mandalorian is ever dutiful and diligent as he leads you in a different direction from your home and you can’t help but to scan your surroundings wildly as you two wander through the marketplace that's still bustling, even after the sun disappears and gives way to brilliant moonlight.

Though most of the food vendors are selling some sort of questionable cooked meat, your eyes widen when you pass a stand that is offering all sorts of vibrant fruits and vegetables. Much to your dismay and embarrassment, your stomach growls and you can’t stop your head from turning to stare at the fresh food as the two of you continue past the vendor. It’s far more expensive than you’ve ever been able to afford, but nonetheless, you find yourself always checking the prices whenever you wander through the marketplace.

You don’t notice the blue Mandalorian observing the wistful expression painted along your features with a slight tilt of his helmet.

“About five miles west of the village, there is a small cave located at the base of the cliffs,” His deep baritone pulls you from your thoughts of fresh fruit and crisp vegetables and you curiously blink up at him, “Inside the cave, there are several hot springs that stay warm from the lava underground and flowers that light up the entire place. I want to take you there.”

“That sounds lovely and all, but five miles?” You feel bad that he’s going out of his way to do something nice for you and all you can think of is how sore your feet are from a long shift and your worn boots rubbing painfully against already formed blisters and bruises, “I couldn’t even do the half mile to my house last week.”

“Do you not see the jetpack on my back, saviin’ika? I wouldn't make you walk that distance after you've been on your feet all day; I am not that cruel.”

You immediately stop walking, your face growing pale at the mere thought of him bringing you high up off the ground and he must sense your intense fear and hesitation, because he immediately cocks his helmet to the side and promptly speaks up when your hand slips away from his elbow.

“What? You scared of flying or something?”

It sounds like he’s teasing you, a twinge of condescension apparent in his modulated voice, and it immediately makes you scowl at him because you have every right to be afraid when you’ve never had the option to travel off of Nevarro, let alone the galaxy, like he’s clearly had in the past. You forcefully remind yourself that most of the people in your little village are bounty hunters and criminals that get to travel for a living and that the feeling of being in the sky or in space was something he’d gotten acquainted with long ago.

“I’ve spent my entire life with my feet on the ground, Mandalorian,” You remind him with a harmless glare, craning your neck so you can properly look at his shiny visor underneath the pretty moonlight, “Of course I’m afraid.”

“You do not strike me as the type of woman to fear such things, not after everything you have already endured.”

You let out a petulant sigh, your cheeks puffing out in embarrassment as you narrow your eyes at the huge warrior and stubbornly cross your arms over your chest. You gaze at the silver tips of the jetpack that barely peek over the top of his broad shoulders and you can’t help but to wonder if there’s a possibility of the heavy piece of equipment malfunctioning mid-flight. Even though the rest of his armor is quite dinged up and a little rough around the edges, you think that his weapons and the jetpack look brand new, as though they’ve never been used before. His weapons and other pieces of equipment must be dear to him, you realize, just as your plants and flowers and the cuffs you wear in your braids are precious to you and you think he must take great care of them to keep them in good shape.

You’ve trusted the blue Mandalorian so far, so why do you fear the thought of him dropping you or his jetpack malfunctioning?

“Y-You’re sure it’s safe?”

“I would not let anything or anyone harm you while you’re with me, saviin’ika,” He holds out a large hand for you to take and you observe it warily for a few moments before slotting your fingers between his leather ones, “I know how my weapons and equipment work; if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be doing this.”

You smile softly at him and nod your understanding, “I trust you.”

“Come on,” He rasps, his voice a little softer when he carefully gives your hand a little tug and you let him guide you once again, “We need to get out of the village a little ways so I don’t draw attention with the sen’tra.”

You assume the word means ‘jetpack’ in his native tongue and you breathe out a soft laugh, “I think your armor draws plenty of attention, Mandalorian.”

He shakes his helmet, but continues to lead you to the outskirts of the noisy village, and you find that the silence shared between the two of you is a peaceful one, rather than an awkward one. Not known to be much of a talker, you’re grateful that the Mandalorian doesn’t really seem to expect a steady flow of conversation between the two of you, as he seems to do most of the talking. Though your feet ache from a long day of work, you find that the combination of his gruff voice and the firm pressure of his fingers intertwined with yours makes for a sweet distraction and you barely acknowledge the calluses and blisters covering your feet and ankles. He speaks mostly of the hot springs he’s taking you to and that the warm water will be good for sore legs; he briefly talks about his tribe when you shyly bring up traditional Mandalorian customs.

You listen and cling to every word closely, saving it for future reference so you don’t accidentally offend the blue warrior with oblivious words and naive questions.

It’s merely a twenty minute journey to the outskirts where most don’t venture to unless they have transportation, and even then, the rocky terrain and creatures that roam the barren lands are enough to keep most people inside the bleak village.

It was only another thing your father had warned you of when you had once attempted to run away when you were thirteen or fourteen; you hadn’t made it very far when he found you, completely lost and dehydrated miles and miles away from the village. Seeing the expanse of the barren lands now, you wonder what the hell you had been thinking as a teenager, thinking you could actually survive in such a harsh environment where there was no civilization for hundreds of miles; you were surprised you had lasted more than a day.

“Is something wrong?”

You blink owlishly, not even realizing the Mandalorian had been talking to you for a while now and you shake your head a little, “N-No… it’s just been a while since I’ve seen the barren lands. Not many venture far out the village without transportation and come back in one piece.”

If he notices the shakiness in your small voice, he decides not to mention it as he speaks.

“I won’t…” He lowers his helmet until the chin of his helmet is nearly touching your forehead and you shyly peer up at him through your lashes, “I won’t let anything happen to you--you know that, right?”

Even though his natural voice is distorted and disguised by his vocoder, you hear how genuine he’s being and you nod with a small, albeit nervous, smile, “I know. I trust you, Mandalorian. Just… please don’t drop me.”

The heavy-infantry warrior doesn’t say anything and merely nods as you reluctantly let go of his hand so he can wrap his arm around your waist, keeping a firm pressure without actually hurting you. Normally, the foreign contact would bother you and have you bursting at the seams, but you think that you don’t mind the way he holds you close to his warm body, like he’s trying to shield you from the horrors of this planet. You think that if you had someone to hold you like this every night for the rest of your days, you wouldn’t hold nearly as much fear in your heart that currently lingers there like a festering wound that refuses to heal properly.

Your breath catches in your throat as the Mandalorian’s clean and warm scent invades your senses and intoxicates you in the most delightful way possible; now that you’re not half asleep, you can actually appreciate the earthy scent that seeps through the cracks of his dull blue armor. Your cheeks are flushed as you wonder if he’s enjoying the close contact as much as you are--if he had hoped for this when he came up with the idea to take you to a place far from the village.

Instinctively, you stand up on your tippy toes and slip your arms around his broad shoulders, your heart racing at the thought of what’s about to happen. Your eyes barely peer over his taut shoulder and you hold your breath when he quietly informs you that he’s going to start the jetpack; you’re hasty as you squeeze your eyes shut when upon hearing the heavy piece of equipment come to life.

The Mandalorian gives your waist a comforting squeeze when you tense a little as he slowly takes off and you force yourself not to panic or open your eyes when you feel your boots slowly leave the ground. While the hand that’s gripping the canvas bag remains tightly wrapped around your waist, you feel his other hand come up to squeeze the spot between your shoulder blades. You’re not sure how high up the two of you are and you’re not sure if you want to look, so instead of gazing down at the rocky terrain that’s far below your boots, you turn your head up to peer at the shimmering stars in the night sky instead, admiring how they seem brighter and bigger the further you two make it out of the village. The moon has more of a yellowish tint to it tonight and appears larger than usual, but you think that perhaps being far away from the village and high up in the air has something to do with the lovely spectacle.

As cold air whips around the two of you, you find yourself grateful that you decided to tightly braid your hair that morning, though a few stubborn locks of hair escapes their restraints and lightly whips at your cheeks and forehead. You can’t stop yourself from shivering the higher he ascends, the atmosphere growing a little more frigid and you thank the Maker that you chose to wear longer shorts underneath your thin dress, the undergarments ending mid-thigh.

“See? Not so bad.”

You huff against his neck, still refusing to look down as you respond just loud enough for him to hear, “You wouldn’t be saying that if I threw up on you.”

His shoulders shake a little and you think he must be suppressing a bout of boisterous laughter as his arms tighten around you, though it’s not enough to hurt you or make it difficult to breathe. You wonder how often he uses the jetpack, especially if he spends most of his days dwelling deep underground, though something about the way he expertly navigates through the barren lands makes you think he’s incredibly experienced and well-trained in using the advanced equipment. He seems just as relaxed high up in the air as he does walking on land and you force yourself to keep your attention focused solely on the soft whirring noise his jetpack makes, along with how the constellations in the night sky grow more prominent the further he takes you away from the village.

You shift your arms around him a little, trying to get more comfortable against his metal chest; he must sense your discomfort because he easily hikes you up a little higher up his torso until your elbows are resting on top of his shoulders and your temple and cheek is lightly pressed against the side of his scuffed up helmet. The cold bite of the helmet makes you shiver a little harder against his chest and you try to focus only on the warmth that lingers between the cracks of his blue armor.

“Have you ever been up there?” You ponder so quietly that you figure he won’t hear it, though he turns his helmet a little to indicate that he’s listening, “With the stars?”

“It’s been a while, but yes.”

You suddenly have so many questions.

You want to ask him what it’s like to travel among the stars and if he misses it at all, or if he simply got tired of all the traveling and being away from his tribe for an extensive amount of time. Has he traveled to the Inner Rim? Or did he only stick to the Outer Rim where he knew it would be easier to find work? If you asked him to describe what the stars looked like as he flew through hyperspace at blinding speed, what would he say to you? Would he describe the constellations and scenery of different planets in great detail? Would he describe the colors of a catastrophic supernova? The shapes and vibrancy of different types of stars? Or would he merely shake his head at your childish questions?

You have all of these questions, yet one in particular has you speaking out loud against the side of his helmet.

“Was it lonely up there?”

He’s silent for a solid minute or two and you think that either he didn’t hear you, or he’s simply choosing not to display any vulnerability in front of you. It makes sense that he wouldn’t be willing to share much of his past with you and you don’t blame him for it, understanding that you two are similar in the sense that it’s difficult to speak of your feelings and traumatizing memories out loud. You wonder if his own memories haunt him when he tries to fall asleep at night and… wait.

Does the huge Mandalorian even sleep?

The only times you’ve interacted with him are late at night or some ungodly hour in the morning and you can’t help but to wonder when he finds time for sleep if he’s so busy providing for his beloved tribe.

“Yes,” His arm tightens around your waist and he turns his helmet in an attempt to gaze at you, though you know there’s really no way for him to see you, what with how firmly your cheek is pressed into the side of his matte dark blue helm, “I just didn’t know it at the time.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, thinking of a lonely Mandalorian navigating through hyperspace, all alone without the comfort of another, “What made you realize how lonely it was?”

You wonder if his own cheeks are burning painfully under that metal helmet as he reluctantly answers your question and you hope he doesn’t feel pressured to bend to your every whim or inquiry as you painfully crane your neck backwards to peer into the abyss that is his shiny visor, “I didn’t know at the time--what made everything feel so lonely--but now I think I know after spending enough time with you and seeing what your father does to you, how he makes you feel."

You tilt your head a little, obviously confused, “Wh-What do you mean?”

“I see a lot of my past self in you,” He admits, fingers lightly curling against your waist, and you think he’s making fun of you, “I didn’t have anyone and I found myself missing the tribe, but I didn’t want to believe that I was lonely and homesick. I see it in your eyes, how lonely and homesick you are as well.”

“What do you mean homesick?” His helmet cocks to the side as you continue, “You think I consider that little hut a home?”

“I think you long for a home you’ve never had,” He tentatively answers after a few moments of severe contemplation, “Like I said earlier, saviin’ika, your eyes are very expressive. Even when you smile, your eyes look sad and it reminds me of how I felt when I was traveling all alone.”

You move your head so your cheek is pressed back against the side of his helmet again, not wanting him to see the despair and loneliness that apparently seem to linger in your expressive eyes, “Is that why you showed up again tonight?”

“It’s part of the reason why,” The blue warrior concedes and it surprises you a little, as he’s usually closed off and so unwilling to expose himself to you, “I wanted to make sure that you were alright--that you weren’t hurt. I don’t... I don’t like seeing your face covered in bruises.”

You smile and slowly close your eyes, an unfamiliar warmth expanding in your chest as the thought of someone caring about your well-being lights your soul ablaze. Resisting the urge to kiss the light blue patch that’s painted in the hollow of his cheek, you settle on dropping your head so it’s pressed firmly into the bunched up fabric at the base of his neck before letting out a deep sigh.

You hope that the thickness of his armor prevents him from feeling how hard your heart is beating for him--for the selflessness of his words and actions--and you wonder if everyone else in his tribe is like him, soft and warm underneath such unyielding and cold armor. Something about the violent and ruthless energy he exudes when dealing with others makes you think he’s not as unrelenting when he’s with his people and they probably don’t expect him to be.

If anything, painful headbutts and heavy fists thrown at one another is how they probably show their love.

You feel a little lightheaded as your blue warrior starts to slowly descend and you're grateful when you eventually see the rocky ground in your peripheral vision. When the worn soles of your boots are finally pressed against solid ground, the Mandalorian makes sure to keep an arm wrapped around your middle, your legs feeling like jelly and your body swaying a little from disorientation.

Eventually, you reluctantly pull your head away from the warmth of his neck and slowly turn to peer up at him through your lashes, blushing at how close he is to you. He’s bent over a little so his visor is eye-level with you and you’re absolutely aware of the way his fingers are splayed wide on your hip, his thumb stroking comforting circles against the flimsy fabric of your dusty gray dress.

Is he aware of what he does to you? How frantic your heart is as it races from the way he holds you tenderly to his own chest, as if he wants to take you far away from the village and build a safe home for you inside of his own heart.

The strange tension only goes away when you speak in a breathy whisper, “Thank you for not dropping me, Mandalorian.”

“I would never do such a thing,” He reassures you and clears his throat before standing up straight so he’s towering over you again; he reaches up to slowly brush some unruly baby hairs away from your forehead and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you shiver from the soft gesture, “What kind of man would I be if I killed the only nurse in the village?”

His playful tone makes you giggle a little and you happily take his hand when he kindly offers it to you again. You’re a little surprised to find huge cliffs surrounding the two of you and you realize that you were so focused on the beautiful starlight the whole journey to the cave that you didn’t even realize he had been guiding the two of you throughout a deep canyon. The Mandalorian is patient as you gaze up at the enormous cliffs with admiration, not even realizing that such beauty could exist on a planet like Nevarro.

“I’ve never been this far out of the village,” You inform him with a breathless sigh, awe and wonder laced in your quiet voice, “I never thought the barren lands could be this pretty.”

“Not everything on this planet is terrible, saviin’ika,” He urges you towards the small, jagged entrance at the base of the cliff and you hesitate upon noticing the ominous abyss that would guide you two further beneath the planet’s surface. You watch as the blue Mandalorian calmly presses a button on his yellow-tinged vambrace, causing a bright light to emanate from the rectangular piece of metal attached to the top right side of his helmet.

“So that’s what it does,” You say out loud before you can stop yourself, earning a chuckle from the large man.

“What did you think it was for?”

You shrug as you let him pull you into the entrance of the quaint grotto, “Decoration?”

The boisterous bark of a laugh he lets out warms your heart and has you grinning as you forget about the fact that he’s leading you somewhere so secluded that he could easily hurt or take advantage of you without anyone knowing about his intentions. Out of anyone you’ve ever crossed paths with in the village, you’re certain that the Mandalorian is the only one you would ever trust to lead you deep inside a cave where terrifying creatures or monsters might linger, though you fear nothing as you stay close to his side.

“I can assure you that none of my weapons, armor, or equipment is for decoration,” He informs you lightheartedly, giving your hand a firm squeeze as he calmly guides the way further into the cold grotto, “The hot springs aren’t too much further away--stay close, saviin.”

“I do not think you would let me stray far,” You chuckle as you let him walk a step in front of you, just to be safe.

He lets go of your hand as he gracefully hops down a steep step that’s a solid ten or twelve feet and you hesitate as he turns to gaze up at you.

Trying to mimic his grace, you move to hop off the jagged ledge, though the tip of your oversized boot gets caught in a deep crack and you let out a sharp squeak as you fall forward, nearly face first into the ground. Before you can properly react and attempt to steady yourself, the diligent Mandalorian is swift and efficient with his skillful hands and somehow manages to keep his grip on your hips light enough to prevent any bruising or soreness that would possibly occur from being manhandled by the blue warrior. You let out a small noise of pain when your chin collides with his cuirass and he’s quick and even a little frantic as he cups your flushed cheeks and tilts your head backwards so he can get a better look at your face, his leather thumb moving to ghost along your sore chin.

He almost sounds ashamed when he speaks up and you feel your heart plummet into the pit of your stomach.

“I hurt you.”

“You… what?” You don’t know what to say, absolutely shocked by how guilty he sounds as he continues to lightly stroke your chin, “You did no such thing, Mandalorian. My clumsiness is not your fault and you should not blame yourself for saving me from worse injuries. Please, keep going. I want to see the hot springs.”

His thumb grazes what you’re sure will be a bruise in the morning, but you think it’s the first time someone has ever unintentionally left a mark on you without any ill intent. With a sharp nod, the blue Mandalorian presses a firm hand to the small of your back and guides you deeper into the grotto, though you’re certain by the way his visor keeps tilting down towards the lower half of your face that he’s still upset over your lack of grace.

“I would not think a nurse to be clumsy.”

He doesn’t sound admonishing or judgmental, but more upset and confused than anything and you can’t help but to find his curiosity endearing, “I am a trained nurse, not a skilled warrior like you. The only thing graceful about me are my hands.”

His helmet cocks to the side, “I’ll be sure to remember that for future reference.”

Your cheeks burn viciously at the implication of his words and deciding it best to not dig yourself into a deeper hole, you grow silent and continue to follow him.

A tiny gasp escapes you when you hear the unfamiliar sounds of running water and you immediately perk up, no longer hesitant as you skip in front of the Mandalorian to venture further within the dwellings of the cold cave. Luckily, the little flashlight attached to his helmet guides your way as you follow the unfamiliar sounds trickling water and you can hear the warrior quickly shuffling to follow you, as if he’s worried you’re going to trip and fall again. Only when he gently advises you to slow down, your hasty footsteps dissolve into a slower stroll and you’re barely aware of the way you grab his hand once again, tugging him towards the sound of rushing water.

When you finally make it to the destination he had longed to show you in the first place, you freeze in awe and wonder.

“Stars,” You murmur as you gaze upon the gorgeous, glowing plants that surround a thin creek of aquamarine water, along with several little ponds filled with steaming hot water, “This is…”

As you stare at the budding flowers and crystal-like plants that glow with a whimsical shimmer and brighten up the tavern, you realize you’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful in your entire life. The flowers that miraculously grow underground are all vibrant shades of sapphire and magenta and even though you should be intrigued by the steamy ponds filled with crystal blue water, a huge, unintentional smile spreads across your lips as your fingertips lightly skim along silky azure petals.

You can’t stop yourself from plucking a healthy-looking flower and bringing it up to your nostrils with a soft smile, your eyelids slipping shut when the floral scent invades your senses completely. If you thought the huge cliffs and shimmering constellations had been beautiful, they had absolutely nothing on the vibrant flowers that softly illuminate the grotto, or the aquamarine water that has steam rising from the surface. With the stem of the flower still intertwined between your fingers, you slowly make your way towards one of the smaller hot springs in the cave and slowly sink to your knees so you can lightly skim your fingers along the surface of the delightfully warm water.

A grin tugs at your lips as you submerge your hand completely and wriggle your fingers around.

“Mesh’la.”

You immediately turn your head in his direction, inquisitive eyes scanning his dark blue helmet because it’s the first time he’s said that word in front of your and you wonder what the hell the Mandalorian must be calling you in his native language. You hope it’s nothing too insulting or demeaning, though the way he breathes it so fondly makes you think he must be complimenting you, rather than throwing judgment your way. His helmet jolts a little, as if he doesn’t realize he’s been staring at you through the safety of his visor, and he clears his throat a little before slowly sauntering to where you’re settled on the edge of the hot spring.

“You can…” He sounds a little hesitant as he approaches you and crouches down so he’s not towering over you, “You can take off your shoes and socks if you want. I brought…” A soft expression crosses your features when you realize he’s nervous as he gazes down at the canvas bag he’s clutching tightly, “I brought this for you.”

Reluctantly, he shoves the small bag in your direction and looks away as you peer inside at the contents, your eyes widening when your fingers graze thick leather, “I-I can’t accept this, Mandalorian. You have already done far too much for me and I would not be able to repay you.”

“You need new boots, saviin’ika,” He observes you as you reluctantly remove the shoes from the bag completely, fingers inspecting the quality of the leather, “Besides, these were made for another Mandalorian in the covert but were too small; they should fit you well enough.”

“I don’t have enough credits to repay you.”

"Then don't."

"Manda--"

“Maker, you really are a stubborn little thing,” The blue warrior says in a deadpan tone, reaching out so his fingertips can lightly graze your flushed cheek; immediately, you remember the way he had caressed your cheeks and lips just a week ago and you lower your head so he can’t see the longing in your eyes.

The Mandalorian lets out an exasperated sigh when you hold out the boots for him to take, though he simply shakes his helmet, “Not everything requires a price. You gave me that salve even though I couldn’t afford it,” You open your mouth to argue with him, though he’s faster and much more stubborn than you are, “If you truly wish to pay me back, then do it with your company.”

“I don’t really make for the best companionship.”

“I think your companionship would be the only kind I wished for, outside of my tribe.”

You ignore the intense warmth in your cheeks as you reluctantly place the boots on the ground next to you before reaching back into the bag to see what else he brought for you. Upon pulling out a jar that’s filled with white, rocky chunks, you perk up and quickly unscrew the lid to smell the aromatic salt; the intense eucalyptus scent nearly brings tears to your eyes as it tickles your nostrils and clears your sinuses.

“Healing salts?” You say it as a question, though it’s more of an observation, and you turn to the blue warrior with raised brows and a slight smile, “I feel like a spoiled woman.”

He grunts and turns his visor away from you, standing up to take a seat on a flat rock that’s right behind you and you can feel the armor covering his knee grazing your shoulder blade, “You care too much for others and not enough for yourself, little nurse. It would be good for you to relax for a while.”

“And what about you, Mandalorian?” You unfold your legs from underneath your body and start to unlace your worn out boots, avoiding his shiny visor as you continue, “I’m sure those weapons and that jetpack must weigh down on your body, no?”

After tugging off your boots and socks, you roll your head backwards so you can peer up at him. Despite all of his clunky weapons and equipment, he seems relaxed as he leans forward a little, padded elbows resting on top of his thighs; he cocks his helmet to the side as he observes your upside down gaze.

He flexes his fingers a little and you think it must be some sort of habit for him to constantly crack his stiff joints, “You’re asking a Mandalorian to disarm his weapons?”

You giggle a little and turn your attention back to the hot spring as you slowly submerge your feet into the soothing hot water, shuddering at how good it feels after being on your feet all day, "I would not ask you to do such a thing, silly man. I'm simply asking for you to relax with me; you deserve it just as much as I do."

He huffs out an amused noise and you turn to gaze at him over your shoulder to watch him slowly remove the cannon that's as tall as you, propping it up against the rock next to his thigh. You raise your brows when he lets out an exasperated grunt upon removing his jetpack, cursing in his native language as he rolls his shoulders.

"Told you all of that equipment must weigh down on you," He shakes his helmet at your gentle quip and lightly nudges your shoulders with his knee before removing his utility belt, "It is good for you to relax too, Mandalorian, especially if your tribe requires your protection."

"You needed this more than me."

You hum as you carefully dump a small amount of the healing salts into the hot spring, avoiding his emotionless gaze as you muster up the courage to say what’s been clawing at the back of you mind since after your initial meeting with the enigmatic warrior.

“Why do you find it so important to take care of me?”

Besides the peaceful sounds of running water and chirping crickets, it’s deathly silent and you fear that the Mandalorian will refuse to answer your question. You lower your head, shame and regret burning something fierce in your cheeks as the silence overwhelms you and convinces you that he does not care about you--that it’s all part of your imagination. You hear him shuffle around and you think he’s attaching his equipment back to his armor, probably wanting to already leave the beautiful cave.

Then a bare hand is on the center of your spine and you find yourself shivering and sighing as a massive hand idly trails up your back. His callused fingers easily push past your thick braids and find purchase on your nape; an embarrassed whimper leaves you when he firmly strokes and squeezes the tension away from your stiff muscles.

“Because, mesh’la,” His voice is close to your ear and when you turn your head in the slightest, your surprised to find his visor just inches away from your eyes, “I would not stand by and watch a harsh world beat you down so easily.”

You think him to be the best thief in the village, because his next words, followed by the press of his forehead against yours, has you bereft of any air that had previously filled your lungs.

“I would much rather see you with that pretty smile that actually meets your eyes, rather than bruises and cuts on your face. I would bring you here every night if it meant seeing that light in your eyes. even if for only a few seconds.”

The smile you grace him with is so genuine and huge that it hurts your cheeks.

Though you believe the Maker to be so cruel to bless you with such a tender companionship, surely with the intentions to eventually rip it away from your grasps, you will allow yourself to feel such happiness in that moment.

sen’tra= Jetpack

saviin’ika= Little violet

mesh’la= Beautiful

Author’s Note: First off, I know I’ve said a bajillion times and I’m never going to stop saying how sweet and supportive you all are! When I first came up with the idea for this story, I certainly had no intentions of people reading it since it’s so self-indulgent and I’m just a soft baby that loves the thought of huge, tough warriors also being soft babies lol. I’m glad we’re all fans of tender Mandalorians being soft with their partners and I’m so appreciative of all the kind comments y’all have left. I hope you all continue to enjoy my story and I promise I’ll try to update as consistently as my hectic schedule will allow me to.

I love you all <3

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege

If I missed anyone, please let me know!!

#paz vizla x you #paz vizla x reader #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #paz vizla #my writing #IM SO SORRY THIS WASN'T REAADY AT 5 LIKE I SAID IT WOULD BE #I WAS UNHAPPY WITH CERTAIN PARTS AND KEPT CHANGING THINGS #ANYWAYS #PAZ VIZLA IS BASICALLY READER'S SUGAR DADDY #BUT INSTEAD OF MONEY #HE GIVES HER EMOTIONAL SUPPORT

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tidalsongprecure · 3 years

Text

Tidal Song Precure! - Chapter 1

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Chapter One

A ripple in the waves! The heart of the sea, Cure Delphin!

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“The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles. No matter what you say about it, there is always that which you can’t.”

Emotion is a complicated thing. There can be good, bad, and all sorts of in-between. Like the sea, there’s an ebb and flow to one’s feelings.

It’s what we do with those feelings that matter.

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Palm trees rippled in the wind, dancing in the briny breeze. The early rays of morn shone through the windows, welcoming her with its warmth. And blue...that endless blue. From the vivid hue of the skies to the constant ebb and flow of the sea, it was everywhere.

“You’re positive you didn’t forget anything Mom?”

The girl’s mother, Haya, eyed her through the rearview mirror. “You asked that back on the ferry Kyoko, yes we have everything . Now, relax! We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves. After all, living on Yumeshima will mean more time together!”

“I know, I know.” Sighing, Kyoko Koizumi leaned back into her seat. “I’m just checking! It’s not the first time you or Dad have forgotten something important…”

“That’s a bit harsh Kyoko,” her father, Sora, chimed in. “Your mother and I are perfectly capable of keeping track of ourselves, thank you very much.”

“Right…” Kyoko directed her attention to the glittering depths just outside her window, the blue in her eyes shining just as bright. “To think we get to live here...it’s incredible.”

“Yes, it’ll definitely be a change, but I’ve heard great things about this island! Studying the marine life here will be amazing…” Haya turned to face Kyoko, a sheepish smile on her face. “I’m sorry this was so sudden, sweetheart, to pick up everything in Kirakono in a few months...”

“It’s alright! Working here has a lot of great opportunities for you and Dad, so I don’t mind, honest!” Even with her reassurance, her mother still seemed worried, so she changed the subject. “H-have you heard anything else interesting about Yumeshima?”

“Well, your dad heard about some stories of miracles happening on Yumeshima I think?”

“Miracles? What do you mean?”

“Something about... strange creatures in the sea? He said he read about it in some article, but you know how he is. Believes everything he sees online.”

“It’s not like that!” Sora interrupted, Kyoko jolting in her seat. “There’ve been local stories and everything! You ask any of the locals and they’ll tell you!”

“I bet...Dad, watch the road!”

“Oh!” The car swerved to the side, before skidding to a stop in front of a neighbourhood lined with cottages, the car swerved to the side. “Thanks, Kyoko. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably be in a hospital...”

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Kyoko watched her parents and the movers file into their new home. It was pretty, she’d decided, with its white wooden walls and verdant vines trailing up the sides. It was positioned in the middle of the neighbourhood, and the dirt path next to the canal was smooth and fairly tidy. She stumbled out of the way as another worker bustled past, hefting a box nearly her size.

“Looks like this may take a while…”

“Kyoko!” Her mother called her over, carrying a small lunch box.

“What is it? Do you need help moving stuff in?” Kyoko asked, stepping up onto the patio. The task looked a bit tedious, sure, but she wanted to be as helpful as possible. The sudden move was definitely more exhausting on her parents rather than her.

“What? No, no! I noticed you seemed a little bored so…” Haya pointed to the pathway leading into town, giving Kyoko’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Why don’t you explore for a bit? We were on the ferry for a while, and the car ride was a bit long too, so you must be itching to stretch your legs!”

“Oh…uhm…” On one hand, exploring the island did sound tempting, and she was a bit stiff from all the travelling...but, she couldn’t. Her parents could definitely use her help and she didn’t want to leave them with all these boxes. That’d be wrong...wouldn't it? While she pondered this, muttering to herself, Haya slipped the container into her backpack -- complete with a dolphin keychain -- and gave her a gentle nudge.

“Quit worrying, sweetheart, go have fun! Leave the boring stuff to us adults.”

“B-but…”

Seeing she needed more encouragement, Haya added, “Think of it like...when you were little, and you went searching for those dolphins! It’ll be an adventure!” Of course, she had to bring that up. Cheeks burning, Kyoko rushed down the steps of the patio.

“Alright, alright I’ll go! Just, please don’t mention that story!”

“Yeah, yeah. Make sure to stick to the path! And be back by noon!”

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“Why would Mom send me out here? Where should I even go?” Kyoko squinted at the map she’d downloaded earlier. “If I follow the path here, I should reach the town eventually…” After scrutinizing the map a little longer, she nodded and shoved her phone back into her bag. “May as well figure out my way around here, Mom and Dad won't be able to drive me around, so…”

That’s right, she was fifteen now. She couldn’t rely on her parents anymore -- not that she did , really, but it'd be best to be able to take care of herself, right? Her parents had always been busy with their work (marine biology was no joke), and as much as she loved how passionate they were, it did make spending time together a little difficult.

But it’s okay! Now that she was fifteen, she could really be independent. She’d start her final year of junior high in a few days, clean up around the house more, maybe get a job…

“They don’t have time to worry about me anymore.”

As Kyoko reached the town, she was greeted with the clean scent of brine. It wafted around her, removing any lingering fatigue from her body. The ocean has always had that effect on her, ever since she was little. A brief moment by the sea could instantly lift her spirits. So, instead of touring the town, she headed straight for the beach, kicking off her sneakers. Cautiously, she dipped her toes near the shoreline and allowed the water to wash over her. It was a bit chilly, but compared to the fervour of the sun, it was a pleasant contrast. The momentary peace was interrupted when a sudden flash appeared behind her.

“What was that?!” Grabbing her shoes and bag, she followed the flashes down the beach. The source of light came from a stony cave near the edge of the coast. By the time she’d neared the entrance, the light had faded. “The light came from here...I wonder where it leads.” Kyoko ran her hand over the rocky opening, about to enter when-

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

She jumped, nearly smacking her head against the stone entrance. The shout had come from a girl behind her, fluffy blonde hair framing her face. Her light tan only served to highlight her sharp golden eyes even more, which were staring Kyoko down. She was barely taller, but she seemed to tower above her. Could demeanour really do that alone? After taking in her appearance, Kyoko concluded.

“Oh, wow, she’s gorgeous! But, she looks pretty annoyed…”

“You DO know you’re not supposed to be in there right? Are you trying to get yourself hurt?!”

Maybe it was the heat, or simply the blonde girl’s intensity, but all the commotion made Kyoko’s head swim. “I, uhm, I think there’s been a misunderstanding I just…” she babbled out. By the high arch of the blonde’s brow, it was clear her words weren’t getting through.

Before the situation could escalate any further, another girl approached the blonde from behind, lightly tapping her shoulder. Her lilac tresses seemed to float down her back, and when she removed her sunglasses, purple eyes surrounded by thick lashes blinked curiously at them. Kyoko squirmed under the captivating gaze, shying away from the pair. Even her complexion was flawless and fair, seeming to glow under the sunlight. They were like...the sun and moon, she thought, with their unique radiance.

“She’s beautiful as well! What I’d give to look like that...”

“Emi, I heard shouting, is everything alright?” The girl finally noticed Kyoko and scanned her over. Kyoko braced herself, preparing for the worst but rather than berating, the girl smiled. The gentle gesture allowed Kyoko to relax a bit. “You don’t look familiar, are you new here?”

“I-I am! I just moved here today, with my parents…”

The calmer girl whispered in Emi’s ear, who continued to scowl at Kyoko. After she’d finished, she turned back to Kyoko, a sympathetic smile on her face. “I’m really sorry about my friend here. She’s not mad at you, she was just worried.”

“I was NOT worried.”

“Right...anyway, it’s best if you stay clear of Eudora Cove. There have been erosion issues, so it’s not safe. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”

“Eudora Cove?” Kyoko echoed. She pointed to the cave’s entrance, “Named after one of the Nereids from Greek mythology? Strange name for a place like this…”

“Weird name or not,” Emi added, scuffing her sandals against the sand. “We’ve always been told it’s dangerous as kids,” She refused to look Kyoko in the eye, and she pursed her lips in a penitent pout. “I assumed you knew, that’s all.” Emi turned back to her friend, “Yuyu, we should get going.”

“Ah yes, we should be heading back,” she waved to Kyoko, “It was nice meeting you. Maybe we’ll see you around?”

Pink flooded Kyoko’s cheeks. “Yeah, see you…” Once the girls were out of earshot, she sighed. That certainly wasn’t the best first impression, but still, she definitely saw something . Why didn’t the other girls notice it? A part of her wanted to run away, to heed the girls’ advice but…

“I’ve got to know what that light was!”

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Thoroughly mortified but determined to see it through, Kyoko entered the cavern. Seashells and stones studded the stony walls, like stars on a clear night. Soft sand blanketed the floor of the cave, which was surprisingly clear of any tracks. “That’s strange...”

“Your Highness, please! We don’t have time - zu!”

“I’m trying, but it’s hard!!”

Voices echoed from within the cave, and splashing could be heard further within. Following the noise, Kyoko was led to a clearing, in which a pool of cerulean shimmered. She hid behind a nearby rock, watching the commotion warily. Near the pool, she spotted a baby sea turtle facing the water. “That's weird, why would a sea turtle be here? It’s not with any other hatchlings, I hope it wasn’t abandoned...”

The pool’s waters began to gleam and bubble, green light filling the cavern. Kyoko shielded her eyes, and when the light faded, a girl came into view. Her long hair was the shade of sea glass, and pointed ears peaked out of her hair. She donned a gown of...seafoam? After brushing her hair out of her face, she attempted to stand up.

Attempted.

The girl wobbled, flailing like a fish out of water. When it appeared like she was about to gain her balance, she’d start to sway again. Kyoko’s stress swelled as she watched her. “Looks like she could use some help…” She stepped out from her hiding place, approaching the girl hesitantly. “Uh, excuse me? Do you need some help?”

The girl and the turtle turned to Kyoko, panic etched on their faces. Just as suddenly as she appeared, the girl dove back into the pool. As soon as she touched the water, the clearing was doused in light. As the light faded and bubbling died down, the turtle leapt onto Kyoko’s face.

It did what now?

Kyoko grasped onto the turtle’s shell, trying to pry her off. “I have the human Princess! Get away while you can - zu!” The sea turtle called. Even with her small flippers, her hold was surprisingly tight.

“You can TALK ?!” Kyoko screeched -- to the best of her ability since the turtle was covering her mouth. She stumbled, scrambling to shake the creature off. Eventually, the turtle lost her grip and went spinning into the sand, finally landing on her shell. Kyoko scrambled to set her upright, then cupped her in her hands. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Put me down! Lemme go - zu! I will not be caught by a human, I refuse - zu!” The turtle protested, squirming wildly. To her ‘request’, Kyoko set the animal on the sand. While she did so, something else caught her eye. A ring of keys made from...coral sat next to the pool. There were an array of colours, from pearly white to ocean blue to sunshine yellow.

“These probably belong to that girl...speaking of, she hasn’t come up for air…” She knelt and leaned closer to the water. “Are you okay down there? You dropped your...keys?” Kyoko trailed off, stopping as a figure rose from the pool. It was the girl from before, only the dress she wore was gone. In its place was a light sea green top, and a slender, sea green tail in place of legs.

“A tail...instead...of legs….tail...no legs…does that mean?”

“You’re a...a mermaid!”

The mermaid had her hands in front of her, outstretched in apprehension. Despite the attempt to sound commanding, her voice shook as she spoke. “P-put the keys down, Terra Dweller and step away from the water.”

Kyoko did as she was told, following the directions in a haze. So much was happening, it was hard to process. All she could think about was the creature before her. She watched as the mermaid heaved herself onto the pool’s edge. “The Keys of Pontoporeia...I don’t think they’re damaged.” After taking the keys, the mermaid groaned before flopping onto the sand. “Azuuuure....don’t you have ANYTHING I can eat? I’m starving!”

“Not QUITE the reaction I was expecting.”

The turtle, Azure, shuffled toward the mermaid with as much attitude as she could muster. “I’ve told you, Your Highness, I don’t have anything - zu. We left Azora in such a rush, food was the last thing on my mind - zu!”

“What?! But I’ve been swimming for days!” The mermaid whined, sinking into the sand again. In a huff, she smacked her tail against the pool’s surface. “How am I supposed to shift if I have no strength?!”

“I think she’s uh, stomping her foot...or FIN I guess...”

“Uhm, if you’re hungry, I have some food I could share..?” Kyoko pulled out the container her mom had given her and popped the lid off. Inside were little sandwiches shaped like fish, with various fillings inside. “The taiyaki sandwiches we made, of course!”

“Taiyaki?” They parrotted.

Kyoko handed a sandwich to each of them. Warily, the mermaid sniffed it, gave it a lick, and then a tiny nibble. She stared the morsel down, before shoving the whole sandwich in her mouth. Kyoko could only gape as the mermaid scarfed it down, and turned to her with eyes filled with longing. She handed her another, settling down next to the pool. “I can’t believe mermaids are real… What are you doing here? Where did you come from? Are there more mermaids nearby? Ah- ” She caught herself mid-ramble. “I’m sorry for all the questions...it’s just so incredible!”

Polishing off her meal, the mermaid agreed, “I feel the same! I mean, I thought all Terra Dwellers - ah, HUMANS, were just yucky pirates, but you’re really nice!”

“Oh! Uhm, thank you...?”

Giggling and splashing her fins happily, she raised her tail toward Kyoko in greeting, who shook it awkwardly. “My name is Odessa, it’s nice to meet you!”

“I’m Kyoko, Kyoko Koizumi…”

The sea turtle flew up and landed on Odessa’s shoulder. “Your Highness, if you’re going to introduce yourself, at least do so properly - zu!”

“Oh Azure, there’s no need to -”

“Nonsense! No matter where you are, you’re still Azoran royalty - zu!” With Odessa rolling her eyes and Azure pointedly clearing her throat, she declared, “This is Her Highness, Princess Odessa Alagona of the First Pearl’s Boon, and you should address her as such - zu!”

“And Azure is being way too formal! Just Odessa is fine.”

“So not only are you a mermaid,” Kyoko began, “But a princess too?” Her dad had been right...for once. She’d felt that there was something weird about this island, and now she’d seen his ‘supposed miracle’ with her own eyes. She wanted to ask so much, but she didn’t want to frighten her again, so she started with one: “What are you doing here?”

“Princess, is it really wise to share so much with this Terra Dweller?” Azure asked. “You don’t know her very well - zu!”

“But...she seems really nice, maybe she can help us!” After positioning her tail comfortably, she began to explain, “My big sister, Meriella...she sent me here for my safety. You see, our home -- Azora Kingdom, it's in danger! A horrible wave of cursed ink spread throughout the sea, the palace was attacked, all to take the Cordis Shell…”

“The Cordis Shell? What’s that?”

“The purest source of sea magic. It’s, like, SUPER powerful. It was gifted to our kingdom eons ago but was taken away for safekeeping a few years back. Only the king and queen -- my parents -- know where it is, but they fled during the Shoal’s attack.” Odessa sighed, sadly swishing her tail in the water. “I just hope they’re okay. Meriella and the others too...I didn’t see all the damage, but I know that the Shoal is strong and won’t stop until they get their fins on the Shell!”

Cursed ink, magic shells, and mermaid royalty? That was….quite a bit to digest. Kyoko didn’t know where to start, but she could tell Odessa was sad at least. She patted the mermaid’s tail, her gaze filled with warmth. “That sounds terrifying...it must be hard to be so far from home, in an unfamiliar world like this.”

“It’s okay! Once I find the Precure, everything will be alright!”

“Precure?”

Azure sighed, frowning deeply at the princess. “Your Highness, you’re not still going on about that, are you? They’re just a merfolk legend, a story for guppies! Those fictional heroes can’t help us - zu!”

“Yes, they CAN Azure!” She shouted with a smack of her tail. “They’re real, and once I find them, I can finally help the kingdom! Meriella, Syreni, even Kaliani won’t have to worry about me anymore! Gasping, Odessa turned to Kyoko, who had been quietly listening to her woes. “You! You could help me! If I’m going to find the Precure, I’ll need to go on land. Let’s look for them together!”

Looking for the Precure...it sounded important, something that couldn’t afford mistakes or errors. What if she made things worse for Odessa? She couldn’t take that risk, she’d been through so much already. “But, I don’t know the island very well. I just moved here, so...I’m DEFINITELY not the best for this.”

“Oh...even so, just someone to help get my land legs! Please, Kyoko! You’re the only one who can! It’s gotta be you!”

“I’m really sorry, I wish I could help…but I can’t. You shouldn’t entrust me with something like this.” She gathered her things, trying to ignore Odessa’s pleas. Sliding her backpack on, she turned to the princess once more. “I have to go, I’m so sorry. But, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

It’s better this way...right?

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Deep below the surface, within the Azoran seas, trouble was brewing. But not for those who feared them, but the members of the Shoal of Lament themselves.

“What do you MEAN she escaped?!”

“Miss, it’s not our fault. That rotten crown princess sent her away before we could ask her anything.” Nerida explained, inspecting her slim, eellike tail. The mermaid had deep blue hair, and skin with a peculiar purple tint. After adjusting the gold jewelry she modelled, she pointed her fins toward her subordinate. “If you must blame anyone, blame Calypso. He spent so much time flaunting his Sirens, we missed our chance!”

The accused merman feigned a gasp. “How could I not?” His blue complexion allowed his green tentacles to glow in the darkness. “My Sirens had so much fun tearing up the city! You wound me, my love.”

“I am NOT your love.”

“It doesn’t matter now, the princess should be far from Azora at this point,” another merman added. He sported a mop of dirty blond hair and a tawny seahorse tail. “We should locate her right away. She’s the last member of the royal family, she must know of the Cordis Shell’s whereabouts.”

“My thoughts precisely. We don’t have time for all this squabbling!” another mermaid exclaimed, smacking her fist against the craggy wall behind her. Her navy blue tail was rough, fins firm and as frightening as a shark. She handed a ring of coral keys to their mistress, bowing. “Miss, I stole these from Princess Syreni. I know the royals use them to pass into other seas in the realm, perhaps we can use these to pursue the princess.”

“Excellent.” She held her hands over the keys, and with a small spell, the once radiant keys were dyed an inky black. “Take these Nerida, and find that minnow. Make her regret ever leaving the sea.”

“Of course Miss.”

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After today, she could never look at the ocean the same.

How could she? A whole new world was under the surface, a world in danger, and she’d refused to help it. “I wonder how Odessa is...I hope she’s okay.” Kyoko muttered, looking out to sea from her balcony. She shivered a bit, the ocean breeze nipping at her skin.

Unbeknownst to her, Haya had slipped into her room to say goodnight, but when her mother saw her, looking to the water with longing, she could sense something was up. Her mother joined her on the balcony, draping a blanket over Kyoko's shoulders. “It’s still early spring y’know? Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Oh, thanks.”

They took a moment to watch the sea, admiring its glistening surface, studded with moonlight. Kyoko’s gaze lingered, but she eventually turned to face her mother. “Mom? Could I ask you something?”

After getting a nod from her mother, she took a deep breath. “So...let’s say you have this friend right? And they really REALLY want your help with something. But this thing is SO important, that if you mess up a LOT of people could get hurt. So you say no, because this friend has gone through so much already, and the last thing they need is you making things worse! Uhm...that’s okay, right?”

Haya laughed, “That’s a big ‘something’ sweetie.” She returned her gaze to the water, deep in thought. “Does this friend trust you?”

Do they trust her? What kind of question is that? “I mean…I guess so. Why does that matter?”

“Well, I just think that if this friend trusts you, has confidence in you...then you should share in that trust, and have some confidence in yourself. I bet they believe in you for a reason, you just can’t see why...At least, that’s what my father used to tell me! You remember, don’t you Kyoko?”

Kyoko nodded, “Yes...Grandpa used to say that a lot…” Her grandfather, Ryūjin always made her feel like she could do anything…

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

“Come on Kyoko! Just a little further!”

Kyoko looked over the boat, eyeing the dolphin warily. She reached out a hand, then retracted it, shaking. “I can’t do it! I’m too scared! What if I hurt it?”

Ryujin smiled, taking Kyoko’s dainty hand in his calloused one. “You don’t know that for sure kiddo. I want you to try though, okay?”

“But…”

“Pretty please?”

“...Okay.” Trembling, she stretched out again and this time, the dolphin nuzzled against her palm, clicking happily. Kyoko gasped, staring at her hand in awe. “I...I did it! Grandpa, I did it!”

Laughing, Ryujin scooped the little girl, hugging her tightly. “I knew you could kiddo! Just took a bit of courage, huh?”

“Mhmm!”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

He’d always stressed the importance of helping others, he wouldn’t have wanted her to run away. He’d want her to face this. If not for herself, then for Odessa at least.

“Mom I, uh...I need to go.”

“Now? But it’s dark and-”

“It’s important! I’ll be back soon, but...there’s something I need to do!”

“Something only I can do.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

As Kyoko ran back to the beach, she could see the sky darken and the waves thrash against the shore. It was like the sea was in distress, she thought, skidding to a stop in front of Eudora Cove. “Odessa? Are you there?” she called, but to no avail. “Where could she be?” Turning away from the coastal cavern, she noticed Azure squirming in the sand. She knelt next to the sprite, gently setting her upright. “Azure, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there! Is everything okay? Where’s Odessa?”

Azure pointed weakly to the water, “Over there-zu...but, it’s not safe.”

“Not safe? Why, what’s going on?”

Just then, Odessa burst out of the sea, scrambling to shore. Her tail and arms were littered with scrapes, and from her panicked expression, she seemed to be being...pursued? Soon after Odessa surfaced, another mermaid followed - one with peculiar purple pigmentation, and an aura so ominous it made Kyoko tremble.

“I told you Nerida, I don’t know where it is! Only my parents do, honestly!” Odessa spluttered, trembling as the mermaid drew near.

“In that case,” Nerida snapped, holding her hand over the rough waters. “You’ll have to tell me where your parents are hiding, won’t you?” More creatures rose from the deep, each armed with an eel’s tail like their commander’s, along with webbed hands and fishy ears. Even with their snarling and hissing, their eyes appeared dismal and bleak. Two Sirens slithered onto land, each taking a hold of Odessa’s arms. Nerida joined them on the beach, pointing a bony finger at the young mermaid. “If you tell me now,” she sang, electric sparks dancing on her finger, “It’ll be less painful…”

Kyoko couldn’t bear to watch any longer. She had to do something ! Scanning the beach, she spotted a long, sturdy piece of driftwood. Snatching it up -- and without thought -- she charged the Sirens. Before they could react, she smacked each of them on the head. They roared in pain, releasing Odessa from their hold.

“Kyoko?! What are you doing here?”

“What I should’ve done before!”

“Well well, what’s this? A Terra Dweller?” Nerida drawled, smirking as Kyoko tried to drag Odessa away. She laughed harder as Kyoko stumbled, panting. “This doesn’t concern you, child. You’re even shaking! What do you think YOU can do?”

There really was no reason for Kyoko to do this. She knew that well enough. The whole situation was out of her control, and much bigger than her. But still…

But still…!

“I...I don’t know what I can do to change this, but...I’d rather do something than nothing! I believe in myself that much, at least…”

With tears pricking her eyes, Kyoko braced herself, fearing for the fated blow…

Which never came.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Kyoko didn’t notice when the world had melted away, all she saw now was an endless rosy hue. A few bubbles floated by her, and she reached out to touch one. It burst with the contact, dispersing into splashes of light. This world was so peaceful, she’d never felt more at ease. She floated along in this place, savouring the feeling.

“Kyoko.” A voice called, one scarily similar to her own.

“Who are you?”

“I’m...you! Sort of. You’ve taken the first step, and I couldn't be more proud of you.”

“The first step? The first step to what? What is this place?”

“Don’t worry about that now, but take this. It’ll help you protect those you love.”

Another bubble floated before Kyoko, and when it burst, a necklace shone in its place. Kyoko held it, turning over the shell-shaped pendant in her hands. “But... what am I supposed to do with this?”

“You got here by believing in yourself, I’m sure you understand what comes next. Trust yourself, Kyoko, those feelings will carry you far…”

Despite the coyness of...herself, Kyoko acknowledged that she got here by believing in herself. And that was something she hadn’t done in a long time…

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Kyoko held the shell close to her heart, calling out the words that would change her.

“Precure! Marine Reflection!”

The Lapis Locket popped open, and a flurry of pink fish burst out. She was bathed in a sea of light. When the light faded, she was floating in the ocean! But she wasn’t afraid, this was too incredible! She relished the moment, beaming as she reached a hand outward. As she outstretched her hand, the pod of fish returned, as if she’d summoned them.

“Would you mind helping me please?” Kyoko asked with a smile. They swam around different parts of her, starting with her ankles. A pair of pearly pink heels appeared on her feet, which Kyoko admired.

Next was her body. The fish spiralled around her hips, and a pink and blue skirt materialized with a loud pop. The same happened with her chest, and she donned a matching tube top.

The fish swam to Kyoko’s head, lightly pecking her there. She couldn’t help giggling as they kissed her, laughter bubbling as she spun. Her hair began to glow and then grow. It brightened in hue, save for the blue ombré she now had. Bubbles weaved through one part of her hair, braiding and sealing it with a large seashell.

As the pod swam away, one little fish lingered behind, planting a kiss on her cheek before departing. Returning the favour, Kyoko blew bubbles and kisses to the fish. The bubbles shone, turning into a ring of pearls on her neck as well as corresponding earrings.

“The locket! I almost forgot!” With a wave of her finger, the Lapis Locket appeared, its string dissolved into seafoam and the shell glittering on her chest.

She floated within a large pink oyster shell, and as it eased open, she struck a pose, declaring her new title.

“ The heart of the sea! Making waves, Cure Delphin!”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Kyoko, rather, Cure Delphin hovered over the sand, before landing daintily. “This is really...me?” She examined her body, admiring the rosy glow she emitted and the overwhelming power surging through her.

“I...I really did it! I found one of the Precure!” Odessa cheered, slapping her tail down with enthusiasm. “Azure, did you see? I told you they were real!”

Azure could only nod, her eyes wide. “Yes I... guess they are real-zu.”

Nerida was equally shocked. How could a simple Terra Dweller, let alone a CHILD, become one of the warriors of merfolk legend? She didn't have time to mull it over, all that mattered was dealing with the nuisance before she could handle her powers. “Sirens! After her!”

Charging their tails, sparks bursting from the tips, the Sirens surged forward. Rather than applying the miraculous, magical abilities, she’d been blessed with, Delphin squeaked, and took off running. Azure and Odessa watched the ‘heroine’ scamper off, the Sirens slithering after her.

“Oh yes, what a legendary warrior - zu…”

“Hey! She’ll get the hang of it! I hope…”

The Sirens continued to chase Delphin, and soon she was surrounded. They inched closer, growling and gnashing their teeth. Adrenaline and fear overtook her, and in a desperate attempt to evade harm, she leapt into the air, just as the Sirens lunged for her.

While she was in the sky, Delphin blathered on, pulling at her hair. “This is crazy, this is totally crazy! What am I DOING?! How can I fight those… those THINGS when I can’t even control my - AH!”

Delphin shrieked as she plummeted to the ground, but in some twisted manner, managed to land upright. A plume of sand billowed from her landing, the dust clouding the beach. Delphin stumbled out of the cloud, shaking her head.

“Delphin!” Odessa shouted, rubbing the sand from her eyes. “Precure aren’t just strong! They have special powers too! If you want to beat the Sirens, you’ve gotta use those powers!”

“Even if you tell me that...” After clearing the sand from their vision, a horde of Sirens dove at her. Panicked, she flailed her arms, water bubbling from her hands as she did so. Just before they could touch her, the water rippling near her palms turned into a rushing wave. “Oh. So, that’s what you mean by powers,” she added, watching the wave crash onto the Sirens.

Brimming with self-confidence, Delphin engaged the marine monsters. Jumping to elude their talons, she dug her shimmery heel into one's head. Using that as a platform, she leapt off and rammed her fist into the sand. The force of her punch created another tidal wave, protecting her and sending the Sirens back with the swell. Delphin beamed, this was amazing! She’d never felt so powerful, it was so different from her usually spineless self. She felt confident! She felt strong!

She felt one of the Sirens whip her with its tail, sending her tumbling into the sand. Stinging discomfort shook her body, and she nearly heaved from the pain.

“Okay Delphin, don’t get cocky now…There are too many to keep up this fight. I need to get rid of them all at once. But how?”

As she peeled herself off the ground, her eyes fell onto the water before her. Despite the battle, the waves had continued their ebb and flow.

“Ocean...move…that’s it!”

“I hope this works…” Clasping her hands to her heart, she envisioned her powers like water: powerful like a tsunami, yet gentle as a babbling brook. Her mind was clear, and in a bold voice she called out...

“Precure...!”

Her Lapis Locket began to glow, dousing the sea in a roseate light. As she stretched out her arms, a pod of dolphins -- composed entirely of water-- swam next to her. Frolicking in a pink wave, the dolphins rushed past. One dolphin swam underneath, bumping into her and she tumbled onto its back. Now leading the fray, she pointed towards her target.

“Delphin Migration!”

With that declaration, the pod and wave engulfed the Sirens. Delphin cheered as her target was drenched, an endearing smile on her face. The creatures collapsed, impotent yet blissful.

Delphin joined them, crumbling into the sand. A wave of seafoam washed over her, and she was Kyoko Koizumi once more. She touched the pink shell hanging from her neck, tracing her finger over its glossy surface. “This locket...I should probably hold onto it.”

Nerida, however, gaped at her Sirens in shock, appalled by their weakened state. Whatever that... Precure (oh, how she loathed saying that) did had rendered her minions powerless! What was she supposed to tell her mistress? Nerida snarled at the human girl, smirking as the Terra Dweller flinched. “This isn’t over, little human. I’ll be back for you and the princess.” Brandishing a set of coral keys -- similar to Odessa’s, save for their inky black colour -- she snapped her fingers. The weary Sirens followed their superior, dragging themselves back to the sea. As they sank below the surface, Kyoko knew their return was inevitable; The fact alone made her tremble. What if today was just a fluke? Would she be able to do this again? What if-

Something damp touched her back, and she let out an unearthly shriek. She scrambled away, frantic but relaxed upon realization. It was only Odessa, her tail must’ve brushed against her back. Limpid tears dotted Odessa’s eyes, and a warbled smile was etched on her face. “Odessa? Are you alright-OH!” The mermaid leapt onto her, squeezing her tightly.

“Kyoko, that was AMAZING! You were incredible! You were like...BAM...and SPLASH...and then WHOOSH!”

Azure followed suit, “I’ve never seen anything like that before -zu! Now Azora has a chance!”

“Yeah! Everything’s going to be okay, thanks to Kyoko!”

Kyoko watched as Odessa and Azure cheered, admiring their innocent delight. Maybe she was a bit innocent too, thinking that she could do something like this. But, they believed in her.

Maybe that’s all she needed.

“I think....things will be alright. I guess I’ll have to wait and see.”

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Tidal Song Precure! Chapter Two Preview

As Odessa gets to know her saviour, her admiration for her grows, and she yearns to become a precure too. In order to prove herself, she decides to venture on land...alone. What adventures await her on the sandy streets of Yumeshima?

Next time on "Tidal Song Precure!": Azora's boon! The voice of the sea, Cure Lagoon!

#tidalsongprecure #precure fanseries

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beca-mitchell · 4 years

Text

i looked at you like the stars that shined (1/1)

Summary: Two moments between Beca and Chloe, three years apart aka the first time they meet at five years old.

Part of now i see daylight—an au series that explores beca and chloe’s lives together as if they had been childhood friends.

A/N: this was something i had in my drafts - something that i wanted to share with you guys. as always much love to @asimplefavors and her willingness to share her ideas and listen to me ramble. always know that i will do the same for you! <3

Word count: 1,570

Read below or on AO3.

May, Age 5

Beca watches the impossibly large trees continue to pass her by until eventually they thin out and reveal a suburban neighbourhood.

Fewer trees. Smaller trees.

Houses that vary in size.

Beca tests the word out on her tongue.

“House,” she mumbles, pressing her nose against the window as best as she can, strapped into her booster seat. The seatbelt digs into her shoulder uncomfortably and she shifts, looking pleadingly towards the front of the car. “Mommy, are we there yet?”

“Almost, sweetie,” her mother replies, turning in her seat. She smiles at Beca’s bouncing knees. “Are you excited?”

Beca smiles, but she shrugs and giggles under her mother’s attention and quickly looks back out the window again.

“She’s totally excited, right Bec?” her father asks, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. It’s a secret smile they share. Beca likes the way he smiles at her as if they’re sharing a secret and she’s his favorite person.

“Right,” she says happily.

Despite that reassurance, Beca can’t quite quell the nerves. It feels like something she ought to be excited about—something that her parents have been talking about non-stop.

Beca sits up when she notices there is a girl playing on the lawn outside. She watches in envy, the way the girl kicks a soccer ball in the front yard. Beca tried that once a few weeks ago. She had fallen unexpectedly.

She frowns when an older boy rushes out of the house and quickly snatches up the ball from the front lawn. The girl’s high-pitched shriek sounds even through the glass window, reaching Beca’s ears unmistakably. She tries not to let her breath fog the pane as her parents pull into the driveway of the house next door.

“Look, Beca,” her father points out. “A new friend.”

Beca smiles, waiting patiently for her parents to unlock the car door so she can leap from the booster seat.

When she exits the car, she notices that the girl has stopped pouting from losing her soccer ball and is watching Beca with rapt attention. Beca is barely cognizant of noisy moving truck that pulls up behind their car as she steps hesitantly towards the other lawn. She looks up uncertainly at her mother, wondering if she can go over.

Before either of them can say anything, the girl, her red hair swinging in a loose ponytail, rushes over at an alarming speed. Behind her, Beca assumes her mother—similar red hair and all— darts out from the house, calling her name.

“Chloe Beale! You can’t just—”

Beca’s father laughs, gripping her shoulder. “It’s okay,” he calls. “Nice to meet you. We’re the Mitchells.”

The girl, Chloe, stops right in front of Beca, staring at her with eyes that burn with the intensity of the sun. Beca shrinks back, but watches Chloe curiously.

“What’s your name?” Chloe asks, clasping her hands in front of her, suddenly the vision of polite perfection. “I’m Chloe.”

“Beca.” Beca inhales, feeling more comfortable as seconds pass. “My name is Beca.”

Chloe nods, placing her hands on her hips before assessing Beca from head to toe. Beca shrinks, conscious of the fact that Chloe already looks taller than her. Before she can say anything or protest a potential joke or teasing phrase, Chloe dashes back to her home’s garage and there is a sharp clattering sound before Chloe’s high-pitched hasty apology.

Chloe rushes back, holding a mess of ropes in her hands.

“Chloe Beale,” her mother begins. "What are you doing?"

“Beca, come play,” Chloe urges, talking over her mother. Beca's eyes widen, glancing quickly at her own parents, but she sees no warning on their faces. Chloe, continuously disregarding the presence of the adults around them, holds out a second jump rope. “You can use the nice one.”

Beca holds the rope uncertainly. “The nice one?”

“The colours are pretty,” Chloe points out. Beca looks at the light blue rope in her hands with pink handles, then looks at the green and orange rope in Chloe’s hands.

“This one looks like…” Beca smiles shyly when she sees Chloe nodding at her encouragingly with her own wide eyes. “Eyes,” she finishes quickly when she realizes staring at Chloe directly is more nerve-inducing than she previously thought. “Your eyes.”

Chloe looks delighted and quickly grabs on to Beca’s wrist. “You’re so nice! Let’s play under the tree.”

As they leave, Beca overhears Chloe’s mother laugh and say to her own parents, “Our Chloe. Never shy, this one.”

Her parents say something in response, but Beca misses it, almost tripping over her shoelaces when she and Chloe stumble across the grass.

Beca tests the word out in her mind. Shy, she tries. Her mouth barely moves around the word itself as she tries to sound it out.

Am I shy?

Nervous, suddenly, she quickly looks to see if Chloe is watching her. She watches Chloe focus intently on untangling the rope, tongue caught between her teeth.

Chloe is not shy, she figures. Chloe is nice and happy and friendly. Beca wants all those things too. She wants to be those things.

Chloe Beale is nice.

Beca finds that she likes her—Chloe’s bright eyes and her easy smile. She is welcoming, warm, and everything that Beca could ever want in a friend.

Slowly, Beca mimics her actions, untangling the rope and waiting for Chloe to catch up.

-x-

May, Age 8

Beca learns quickly that being friends with Chloe means that Chloe will never leave her behind. She vows similarly to do the same, even if she never voices that aloud.

Chloe is special. She’s certain of it.

But being special isn’t even something that Beca herself fully understands. Beca isn’t sure what it all means at five years old (“almost six!” Chloe’s voice sounds in her ears), but she knows that Chloe makes everything easier. She quells the nerves, she quells the nagging uncertainty, she quells the flare-ups of insecurity.

She also defends Beca valiantly and without fail each time.

Like when they’re seven. Beca becomes more aware of Chloe’s impact in her life when she turns seven and Chloe helped her with her clay models when Jacob from their class smashed them “accidentally” and Beca had spent most of the afternoon crying.

“I’m not leaving you,” Chloe had declared then. “Let me help.”

Or now—at eight years old and sweating under the unforgiving sun. Nervous glances as her classmates wonder who will be picked last.

Beca knows it’ll probably be her. She’s not good at kickball—it requires far too much coordination and she doesn’t like how small she feels when the boys in her class grin at her and launch the ball far too hard in her direction.

She waits for Chloe to inevitably be picked first, but startles when Chloe refuses to move when Carl calls her name.

Chloe lifts her chin, pointedly grabbing Beca’s hand. “We’re a pair,” she says stubbornly.

Their teacher pinches the bridge of his nose as snot-nosed Carl crosses his arms next to him. He’s one of the first in their grade to turn 9 so he thinks it makes him more important than them. One year closer to ten. The unspoken awe of the double digits.

“I don’t want her,” Carl says stubbornly.

Beca flinches. “Chloe, it’s okay,” she rushes to whisper. “I’ll just—”

“No, he’s being a jerk!”

“Chloe!” their teacher gasps. “Language, Ms. Beale.”

Chloe, who never had a very good grasp on her emotions, begins to pout in a way that, Beca knows from experience, represents an impending temper tantrum. It seems like Carl senses it too and he immediately caves, fearful of getting on Chloe’s bad side, despite the rarity of such an occurrence.

“Fine,” he shouts quickly. “I pick Chloe and Beca. Both of them.”

“That’s two picks,” Valerie, the other team captain points out quickly with a gleeful grin. “Does that mean I get two as well?”

Carl shrugs despite his pout and refuses to look at Chloe and Beca as Chloe pulls Beca along by her hand to stand on his side of the field.

Beca looks at the ground, thoroughly embarrassed and much warmer than before. “You didn’t have to feel bad for me,” she murmurs to Chloe once the rest of team-picking continues on without interruption. "It's fine."

Chloe nudges her with her shoulder, forcing Beca to look up from where she’s scuffing her white shoes against the ground, getting them dirtier. “I don’t feel bad for you,” Chloe says lightly and cheerfully.

"Really," Beca says with doubt lining her voice.

“You’re like...so good at running. We need you! I want to win too, okay?”

Beca blushes right to the tips of her ears, which she totally blames on the heat. “Okay,” she agrees, smiling. “Thank you, Chlo.”

"I'm good at kicking, you're good at running, maybe we just work well together."

If anything, that makes Beca blush more furiously than before. She quickly gathers her wits and tries not to smile. "I don't think that's how kickball works. We'd have to be...like the same person."

"It makes sense to me," Chloe replies. She then beams at Beca, as brightly as she had on that first day and over the past three years.

Chloe smiles like she thinks Beca is the most incredible person she knows at eight years old.

Maybe Beca finally believes it.

fin.

#now i see daylight #bechloe #fanfiction #pitch perfect #my fanfic #mine #text #queue #au

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spacebrick3 · 3 years

Text

WHG Day 3: OSHA Regulations Get Ignored.

In which there is just Emma.

“No, this is a great idea, there’s no way it can possibly go wrong,” a thoroughly fed-up Emma mutters, trudging through foot-deep snow and trying not to notice the way it sinks into her shoes, or that she hasn’t really felt anything from her toes in the past half hour. Still no sign of her sister. “Look, look, there’s no way—God, I should have seen it that there was no way you were backing down, should have stopped you instead of letting everything go to—this souped-up, frozen-over hell!”

She shouts her criticism to the sky, voice echoing through the canyon beneath as if it will have any effect. Besides shaking a few drops of snow from the overburdened trees, it doesn’t. “Wonderful. Just great. I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to be doing, save not dying, and that’s more a dice roll than anything else. Capitol decides to set a pack of hounds, of damned wolves out here and then…then…”

Her words falter, then stop. For the canyon’s echo works both ways, carrying another voice up to her. “…the general duty clause places heavy restriction on weapons like those…check Section 5(a)(1)-“

“…Alice?” It’s hardly a question. Only one person would be fool enough to be reading off about ‘general-duty clauses’ in the Games. And though her speech is carried on the wind, faint, cutting in and out of hearing range, it must be close. She drops to the ground, checking the descent down the canyon walls towards where she guesses it’s coming from. Steep, slippery, but manageable, and then Alice is perfectly welcome to lecture her about how having such a dangerous drop violates some regulation or another.

She barely makes it a foot down before slipping, grabbing a tree branch to stop her fall. Her concentration on the descent slips, too, and she realizes that something is wrong. Alice is still talking, but her words are rushed now, almost panicked, evident even in their half-heard state. And Alice—Alice is the steady one. Alice never panics.

And then she stops. Abruptly.

“A-Alice?” she calls, dreading what will come or what will not.

A cannon shot cracks through the air, shaking the rock around her—and, more pressingly, the snow and ice from the canyon walls. She barely has time to look up, to see what looks like a fractured white wall descending upon her before it hits, dragging her grip from the beleaguered tree.

***

The canyon walls do not contain enough snow for an avalanche, or Emma would drag herself out of it in a much worse state than she does now, lucky to be only cold and sore and with an arm that aches in the wrong places. “Goddamn it,” she manages, rubbing at her head. “I—I mean they had to have known that would happen, right, they had to have known-“

The pieces fall (back, after having been rudely jostled out of) into place. “ALICE!”

She dashes across the canyon floor, steps irregular and limping, guessing at where she heard the sound. Everything is so very quiet now, muffled and still, even the wind flat between the two high walls. But it was here, it was close, and once she finds where it came from then—well, then—it has to be, it will have to be—it must have been-

She heard Alice’s voice, and then she didn’t.

There was a single cannon shot. One death.

Alice would never, ever, kill anybody.

“God damn it all,” she growls. “I swear, if you got yourself killed before me, Alice, I’m going to—well, something. I don’t know. I…hope you’ll be able to stop me, I really do.”

Her foot lands on packed-down snow, trampled and marked with bootprints. Whoever the tracks belong to, they’re too scuffed to tell—but people have been here, more than one, and recently. Her breath quickens as she glances around, one hand reaching to her side for the sword. Picked it up from the camp last night, nobody there would’ve noticed. Never thought I’d use it, but if they’re still here…. “ALICE!” she screams again, the words and the bitter air beginning to tear at her throat. “ALICE! Please.”

A glint of iron-black metal catches her eye, a small cylindrical object stuck into the snow. She walks over, half her mind already recognizing it before she pulls it fully from the snowbank. A pen. Alice’s pen.

Next to it, like some strange, bright winter flower is a bloodstain, still a brilliant red. Not much—not a lot of blood. She grasps for that fact, tries to cling to it as some last desperate hope, but…well, she’s too much Alice to believe it. The hovercraft would have descended and taken her away, and they don’t leave anything behind. A stroke of luck that she found the pen at all, discarded as it was.

She heard her die. She heard the moment it happened.

But…no, it can’t be. There’s something else going on. Nesri told me—they had a plan. There was a plan. Wasn’t there?

A plan. Alice would have laughed at it. “Unless it’s written in 12-point Times New Roman and accounts for every contingency, there’s no plan,” she’d have said. “Just a bunch of hopes tied together with string.” But if this half-cooked plan, with so many variables and so many unknowns and so many ways it could go wrong that it’s barely worth counting is Alice’s only chance at being alive, then…isn’t that hope worth something?

***

She stays there, waiting for who-knows-what. For a plan. For something which will let her know that her sister is still alive and not simply another statistic on the list of those who the Games have killed. And just like everything else here, she gets nothing. Radio silence, save a name and face in the sky that tells her nothing besides the fact that the Capitol thinks she’s dead.

Was that the plan? Or do they know something I don’t?

Her ears prick up at the sound of careful footsteps, someone else seeking shelter from the wind she can hear howling past. Or returning to the scene, where they don’t think anybody else will be, where they think they’ll have scared everybody off. Her fingers, worn numb by the cold, tighten around the sword’s hilt, digging into the leather. As she draws it, she realizes she must look a fearsome sight in the dimming forest, hair matted with snow and blood, eyes wild and bloodshot with lack of sleep.

Whoever it is, they know how to be stealthy. Tall and surprisingly well-kept, he barely makes a sound as the blade digs into his chest. Not drawing blood, yet. “Was. It. You,” she growls.

“Ah…sorry? Was what me?”

“Did you kill her?”

“Again.” He holds up his hands in the characteristic ‘just look at me, could I really have done it?’ pose. Golden eyes, dulled but still reflective, glint as he speaks. “I’m not sure who you’re talking about.”

She doesn’t have the time nor patience for this. “Alice. My sister. Did you kill her?”

“I haven’t killed anybody, so I’m afraid not. You, though…” He looks down again at the sword poking at him, and back to Emma. “You’re not planning to kill me with that, are you? There’s a whole…thing going on about us not dying, and I’d rather survive this. So if you don’t mind-“

He tries to push the blade away from his heart, only for her to jab it in further. He backs away and she follows, pressing him against a tree. “Stay. You said there was a plan. For people not dying. I’m not—I don’t-“ She accidentally slices a line down his chest, the sword shaking in her head. “Shit! No. How does it work, the plan?”

“You know, that hurt.”

“Plan. Now.”

“I don’t know! They don’t tell us these things,” he says, wincing. “I think it’s the trackers, though. If the Capitol doesn’t have those, they have to assume that we’re…dead.” He glances around, looking for a way out.

Well, she can damn well give him one, then. “Where’s yours?”

“I don’t-“

“Where.” She’s starting to sound like Alice, all monosyllables and terse sentences. Curt and no-nonsense, and whatever sort of arrogance this man is spouting is certainly nonsense.

He sighs. “Shoulder. Right one. Don’t be-“

Without daring to think too much about what she’s doing, Emma pulls the blade back, spinning it in her hand before cutting deep into his shoulder. Beyond the blood—that’s a lot of blood, more than she expected—she’s rewarded by a hiss of electronics and a brief, sparking flash. The blade stops against his neck before she pulls it back.

“-too harsh.” He hisses out a breath, pressing a hand to the wound. “Was that really necessary?”

“Get out of here,” she says. “Your tracker’s gone, so go.”

“If it means you don’t kill me, then gladly.” Another grimace of pain. “Although if you weren’t planning on doing so, don’t think there was much reason to be that harsh with it.”

“When you get out.” If you get out, she amends. He’s…competent, but annoying. “If you find someone, Alice—black hair, glasses, will gladly lecture you about safety regulations so don’t let her start—then tell her she’s awful and I hate her and I’m very, very glad that she’s not dead. In those exact words, understand?”

He nods, slipping slightly on the snow as he stumbles away. She watches him go, hoping that Alice did the same only a couple hours ago, that the pen and bloodstain were left behind from the tracker and nothing else.

Taglist: @concealeddarkness13, @rhikasa, @knmartinshouldbewriting, @maple-writes, @aeslin, @pen-of-roses (thanks for Lynn! Hope I got him right!), @makeitmonstrous, @the-moving-finger-writes, @nightskywriter, and of course @ratracechronicler!

#writeblr hunger games #character: alice #character: emma #finally back into the groove of writing these #so here's day 3!#with all the angst it entails

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eightlittletalons · 4 years

Text

Prompt #9: Lush

Definition of lush 1: growing vigorously, especially with luxuriant foliage 2: opulent, sumptuous 3: (slang) intoxicating liquor : a habitual heavy drinker

My wife: What’s today’s prompt? Lush? You could write something spicy! Me: Haha yeah *proceeds to write about E’andhris making healthy decisions (/s) and drunkenly flirting with the Exarch post-slaying of Amh Araeng’s Lightwarden*

To be fair, it does get a little spicy at the end. On AO3, this will be rated M, for reference.

The Scions had returned to the Crystarium, the conquering heroes after their latest victory over the Lightwarden in Amh Araeng. Though instead of accompanying his fellows to debrief with the Crystal Exarch and discuss their plans for Kholusia, E’andhris had been sent to bed by Y’shtola like an errant kit. His own mother had doled out similar punishments whenever he’d explored a little too for from home as an actual child.

He stalked angrily towards the Pendants, feeling frustrated by his lack of control over the Light he carried within him. His pride was likewise scuffed at being treated as though he were fragile by Y’shtola and Ryne, though the concerned look in the young girl’s eyes especially haunted him. He really must be in deep shit this time. Beyond that...Minfilia.

Seeing his dear, old friend again had ripped open the barely healed wound of losing her to begin with. She’d been among the first of the Scions to make him feel truly welcomed among them. A sister in all but blood, ripped from his grasp thrice over.

Fuck. He needed a bath and a drink, and he didn’t care in what order they came in. Although...the Wandering Stairs just so happened to be on the way to the Pendants, so technically he wouldn’t be entirely disobeying Y’shtola’s strict orders by making a detour. He swung right, up the stairs, and leaned his elbows against the counter.

Darlfort took one look at him and gave a sympathetic wince. “You look like shit, lad,” the galdjent said, bending to grab something from beneath the counter. “You’ll be wanting something strong, I’m assuming?” At E’andrhis’ eager nod, Darlfort placed a large bottle down with a clink. The Warrior recognized the label from his early days in Norvrandt, playing delivery boy.

“Much obliged,” E’andhris replied as cheerfully as he could force. He reached for the liquor, cradling it gingerly in the crook of his arm as he dug into his coin purse. Before he could pull out a single gil, Darlfort snorted and gave the miqo’te a look. Shrugging, E’andhris turned to take his leave. Blast the Crystal Exarch for taking such good care of his special guest that E’andhris couldn’t even pay for his own booze while within the Crystarium’s bounds.

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

It turned out that E’andhris wasn’t able to enjoy his liquor immediately. He’d returned to Ardbert waiting for him, and then his...condition flared up. He was only glad that he’d managed to get the bottle onto the table before the Light within him bubbled to the surface, bringing him with a cry to his knees. He’d barely registered Ardbert running to his side through the pain. He felt the tingling sensation of the hume’s heavy hand upon his arm and suddenly his vision cleared, and he could draw breath again. The men stared at each other in shock, then Ardbert made a hasty retreat, muttering some nonsense about not being a hero.

Left alone, it was harder to ignore. The panic. E’andhris uncorked the liquor with his teeth as he undressed and filled the small bathtub with steaming water. He spat the cork somewhere on the floor uncaring of where it ended up. He took a large swig of the drink as he stepped into water hot enough to turn his skin red on contact, and he almost coughed at the harsh burn the alcohol left in its wake. It had been far too long since he last imbibed, clearly. The smell alone made him dizzy. Placing the bottle on the floor beside the tub, he sank into the water up to his ears, holding his breath and counting to ten.

Soon, he thought, Soon they’d travel to Kholusia and Ryne would be able to pinpoint the precise location of the final Lightwarden. Soon, he’d slay the monstrosity, bringing night back to Norvrandt for good, and then...what? The Exarch had the utmost faith in his ability to hold all of the Light within himself, without issue, though that clearly wasn’t the case. Perhaps he would finally die, having cheated death one too many times. His panic clawed its way from his chest, though E’andhris shoved it back down, chasing it with another large mouthful of liquor. Now was not the time to lose it.

Taking a third sip, he began to furiously scrub at his skin and scalp. Time to focus on what he could control, such as freeing himself of the sand and grit of Amh Araeng. By the time he was finished, his skin burned from the harsh treatment, but the pain had served its purpose of helping him to center himself. Hauling himself out of the now tepid, filthy water, he glanced at his bed. Absolutely not.

Instead of retiring to bed like he probably should, he dressed in the himation and sarouel he’d been fond of wearing on the Source, and gently folded the robes he’d received from the Night’s Blessed for later laundering. Slipping into his simple leather shoes, he grabbed the liquor once more and fled from the suite into the cool night air.

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

The Exarch knocked on the door to E’andhris’ chambers and waited more than a little anxiously. He rubbed absently at his crystallized arm at the prolonged silence, and hoped he wouldn’t have to wake the Warrior. When the Scions had come to meet him in the Ocular without E’andhris in their company, his mood had fallen. With the group leaving for Kholusia soon, he’d hoped to spend more time with the tall miqo’te mage, against his better judgement.

But when Y’shtola and the newly named Ryne made their entrance with worriedly pensive expressions, his heart caught in his throat. As they explained about the Warrior’s struggle to contain the Light after Storge’s defeat, his alarm rose. Every ilm of his body urged him to end the meeting and run the distance between the tower and E’andhris’ room, to throw himself at his feet, and beg for his forgiveness for putting him through such pain. Instead, he kept his face schooled into polite concern. He made excuse after sickening, riddle of an excuse in the face of their worry for their dear friend.

After all, he would soon fix this fine mess that he’d created of their lives.

In the present, his sandaled foot tapped an impatient beat on the tiles of the Pendants’ hallway. He decided to knock a little louder, and waited once more. Still no answer. Pressing gently on the door, the Exarch was surprised when it opened with the softest of creaks. He warily stepped into the dark room, glancing this way and that. The Warrior wasn’t here, though signs of him were. The astringent scent of strong alcohol lingered in the air, mixing with the humidity of a hot bath. The flimsy blue, feathered robes that E’andhris had taken to wearing on the First lay folded on the end of his bed, though his shorts and myriad of accessories lay scattered over the floor.

So come and gone, the Exarch mused. But where would the mage have gone at this late hour? He made a note to ask the staff to ensure that E’andrhis’ robes were gently washed of the grime from the desert, as he left to search for his wayward Warrior.

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

A bell and a half had passed, and the Exarch grew more frantic in his searching. Surely, E’andhris wouldn’t be so foolish to leave the city in his state, on his own, in the middle of the night. Surely. Perhaps if he told himself that several more times, he’d believe it. For as long as he’d known the Warrior, he had been headstrong and painfully self-sufficient. Ever one to shoulder others’ burdens without a care for his own.

It was one of the things that first drew him to the man. A true hero. Now it was the cause of his headache. With a great sigh, the Exarch began to make the ascent up the watchtower - his favorite place in the Crystarium when he wished to just exist. His hope was that he’d be able to somehow spot E’andhris if he had indeed made the trek into Lakeland. If not, then to the Ocular he’d go to scry upon the troublesome mage. However the thought was dismissed as he heard faint...singing?

The Exarch forced his legs to carry him more quickly to the top and paused, breathless from exertion, when he finally found his Warrior. He sat precariously on the edge of the platform with his legs dangling off into the open air. The hooded man let out another sigh - this time of relief - as his feet carried him hurriedly to E’andhris’ side.

He reeked of the same scent he’d caught in the Pendants, and his eyes easily found the culprit clutched in the Warrior’s hand. A bottle of the Wandering Stair’s finest, three-fourths of the way finished. “Oh, E’andhris,” he breathed sadly, settling down beside the thoroughly soused hero with a soft grunt of exertion.

“Exarch!” the other miqo’te cried, throwing his arms wide in an exuberant greeting. Those arms came around him tightly in a friendly embrace, taking the Exarch by surprise. The Warrior was in a good mood, then.

E’andhris’ strawberry blonde hair was down, damp yet from his bath. In all his time in Norvrandt, the Warrior had kept it pulled back from his face in a charming little ponytail, with silver pins holding back errant strands. Seeing it loose brought back memories of before. It was...distracting.

He cleared his throat. “What are you doing all the way up here, E’andhris? Are you all right?” he asked, tamping down the urge to reach out and brush a lock of the Warrior’s hair away from his cheek. His hand made an aborted attempt anyway. Instead, he redirected it to pluck the bottle from E’andhris’ hand and placed it far out of reach.

“I needed some air,” the Warrior replied blandly, his blue and brown eyes settling more than a little unfocused on what little of the Exarch’s face he could see. He flinched when E’andhris’ now empty hand shot out to trace the crystal curled along his cheek in a decidedly intimate caress. “The Light started hurting again.”

The Exarch took a deep, calming breath and gently wrapped his hand around E’andhris’ wrist to pull his touch away - an act that took no small amount of will. “Does it yet pain you or has it passed?” he asked, a traitorous finger caressing against the skin of the Warrior’s soft palm. E’andhris let out a soft gasp and twisted out of his grasp, instead twining their fingers together. That...wasn’t better.

“’S better now,” E’andhris replied, slurring his words as he scooted closer to lay his head on top of the Exarch’s cowl. He let his breath out in a hiss through his teeth, urging himself to move away from the display of affection. Instead, he leaned against his friend’s side. E’andhris began to purr in delight, and the sound went straight to the Exarch’s loins.

“Thank goodness for that. I would not wish to see you suffer,” he whispered, damning himself further as he wrapped his spoken arm around E’andhris’ trim waist to hold him closer. He forced himself to give the speech he had intended to present to the Warrior in his chambers. “You must survive this, no matter what.”

The Warrior nodded, clearly only half listening. He nuzzled against the fabric of the hood beneath his cheek, and the Exarch was never happier in that moment that he kept it enchanted to stay in place. “Exarch...” E’andhris breathed, and he leaned in to listen. “When I kill the last Warden, will your work finally be done?”

“Yes, I believe it will,” the Exarch replied after a short pause. He steeled himself to push through the half-truth. “Once the tyranny of Light is ended, the people of the Crystarium will be safe, and the future that must be shall come to pass.”

E’andhris gave a happy hum, bunting against the Exarch in a move so loving that it brought tears to his crimson eyes. “That will be nice. We should do something fun after everything,” the Warrior said, his gaze somewhere between the hooded man’s nose and chin. “There’s those hot springs our in Lakeland. I bet one word from the Crystal Exarch would see them vacated for a private occasion.” His tone was playful, flirtatious even, and each word twisted the knife in the Exarch’s heart further.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he found himself promising. “For now, though, we should get you to your bed.” E’andhris gave a sound of dissent, and the Exarch had to drag him to his feet. The tall miqo’te dissolved into giggles when he realized his legs refused to hold himself up reliably. In spite of himself, a fond smile found its way to the Exarch’s lips.

“You’re very strong,” E’andhris cooed, as he wrapped an arm around the Exarch’s shoulders in an effort to keep himself upright. They began to make their very slow descent from the top of the tower. The caretaker had to grab hold of E’andhris’ waist firmly with both arms to keep him from listing too far one direction or the other.

“You’re very drunk, E’andhris,” the Exarch responded with a snort. He started as he felt the Warrior’s thumb tip his head up to face his. His friend was looking at his lips, he realized with alarming clarity.

“And you’re incredibly pretty. Has anyone ever told you that, o’ Crystal Exarch?”

The Exarch quickened their pace as they reached the ground. He needed to get his inebriated hero to bed, and not in the way his lower half was desiring. He felt a lecherous old man, that he even found E’andhris appealing in such a state. “I may have heard it once or twice in my many years,” he gritted out. He forced himself to ignore E’andhris’ increasingly wandering hands as they made their way towards the Pendants. He only hoped the manager wasn’t there to witness whatever was happening between the two of them.

The gods must have finally decided to smile upon him for the first time that night, for the lobby was empty when they arrived. E’andhris began to fumble for his key, and the Exarch rolled his saccharine eyes from beneath the gloom of his hood. “There’s no need for that. You left your room unlocked in your grand escape,” he grumped. The Warrior had the decency to look mildly ashamed at that, at least. He dragged the taller man into the room and dumped him on the bed, intending to make a quick getaway, when the mage grabbed his crystal wrist and pulled.

The Exarch stumbled, thrown off balance, and braced himself on the bed hovering over top of the Warrior who grinned like a lovestruck fool. “You could stay,” he whispered in a tone the Exarch had never thought to hear with his own ears. E’andhris stretched out beneath him in a way that send levin straight to his already hardened cock. Seven hells.

“No,” he gasped forcefully, scrambling to his feet and putting several fulms between them. He should leave. He should leave right now. Then E’andhris pouted, and the Exarch opened his mouth to comfort him, to his complete horror. “I would not have our first time be one that you forget.”

He clapped crystal hand over his mouth hard, likely bruising his lip in the process. E’andhris gazed up at him, surprised and obviously equally interested. The Exarch turned and rushed from the room before he could hear whatever witty retort his inspiration could come up with to convince him to set aside his rapidly deteriorating defenses. He could only hope that E’andrhis truly did forget this come morning light.

#ffxivwrite2020 #WoLExarch #Crystal Exarch #E'andhris Tia #with minor appearances by other characters #Liv writes #ffxiv #Shadowbringers

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cynicalrainbows · 4 years

Text

The Next Best Thing Pt 5

Apologies for the long wait!

Babey Cathy and Anne finally get their playdate (I feel like they’d have amazing dark games) and Cathy reminisces about the funeral.

She has a little moment of worry as she pushes open the door to the spare room her room: it’s a bit smaller than her old room, which means it’s a lot smaller than Anne’s room, and what if they can’t play properly.

(What if Anne regrets coming over?)

(Anna probably has a huge bedroom).

It turns out though that Inca Princess Burial can be played just as well in Cathy’s new bedroom as her old bedroom- although Anne does look at her strangely for a second when she suggests it.

It takes Cathy a moment to understand- because Inca Princess Burial is their BEST game, and since it can’t be played properly in the playground, they don’t even try, which means they haven’t played it for ages.

First, she’s scared that Anne just doesn’t want to play- perhaps she’s grown out of it since then, perhaps she’d rather be playing something else (something cool and german and grown-up) with Anna.

But then Anne says they don’t have to if she doesn’t want, and then she understands, and immediately wishes she didn’t.

Of course. Anne thinks she might not want to play Inca Princess Burial now that she’s played ‘Real Life Burial’ (except it wasn’t playing, it wasn’t a game.)

Her new black dress was too tight around her arms and she was glad because it gave her something else to think about, even though the red marks stayed on her skin until bedtime.

She scuffed her shoes drawing a pattern in the dust outside the church and Catalina looked but she didn’t tell her off, didn’t even tell her to stop, and no one else did either, even when she did it harder, on purpose.

It made her want to cry, the horrible difference in everything, the reminder that she was different now, an orphan, with an orphan’s privilege of no one caring if she messed up her things or not.

Catalina stood very straight, as if she was afraid of falling off balance, and smiled a tight smile at all the people who came to shake their hands and say they were ‘so sorry….such a tragic loss….so very sad’.

She watched Catalina’s expression all day, so she could copy- she wasn’t sure how her face was meant to look on a day like this.

A woman with sprayed-stiff silvery-blonde hair leant in close and asked if Catalina hadn’t thought about getting Cathy ‘smartened up’ for the funeral, which made no sense because she was already wearing a new dress and new shoes- it made her wonder if she’d spilled something on herself, except she couldn’t have done- she’d pushed away her breakfast that morning and Catalina hadn’t pushed it. She hadn’t understood what the woman meant- but Catalina seemed like she did.

(‘I really hope you’re not saying what I think you’re saying, Margot.’

‘Just….you can get some really wonderful hair-straightening treatments nowadays-’

Catalina squeezed Cathy’s fingers so tightly it hurt. ‘If you think I’m going to damage my goddaughters beautiful natural hair for some ridiculous standards of-’

She broke off. ‘Cathy’s hair comes from her mother. The mother she is having to say goodbye to. Do you really think she needs to be made to think that’s something she should be ashamed of?’

The woman huffed something about ‘only trying to help’, her high heels making cross clicky sounds on the wooden floor as she walked away and Catalina leant down.

‘She’s an idiot, mija. Promise me not to listen to people like her.’ She’s not quite sure what she’s meant to be not-listening to but she nods anyway and Catalina pulls her into a fierce hug.)

She hadn’t cried when the wooden boxes disappeared behind the curtain, even though everyone else was. She knew mum and dad were meant to be inside the boxes but somehow, she couldn’t believe it. The boxes were too small.

She hadn’t even cried when the third person whisper-asked Catalina if she was ‘really sure about taking it all on’, even though she knew that she was the it.

She didn’t cry and she didn’t even shout or kick out at the people asking, although she wanted to (she wanted to ask them why they were asking Catalina these scary sort of questions now, she wanted to ask what would happen to her if Catalina decided to answer in the negative…. But she didn’t.)

Catalina just smiled a not-real smile at all of them and cut most of them off before they’d finished talking.

‘Really ready for the burden of-’

‘Of course Cathy is staying with me.’ The questioner- a stooped man with egg mayonnaise from the buffet table staining his tie- winced a bit at her loud tone, as if he’d rather Catalina match his hushed tones.

‘And you’re-’

‘She’s my goddaughter.’ Catalina squeezed Cathy’s hand tight- she hadn’t let go all day and it made Cathy feel a tiny bit less lost, a bit less like she might disappear altogether.

‘Of course she stays with me.’

She nods, like the conversation is finished, and starts tugging Cathy quickly away, although there’s nowhere in particular they need to be.

Outside, the wind whips at their skirts. The sky is cold iron grey but Catalina's hands over hers are warm.

‘It’s going to be ok, mija. It’s going to get easier. I know it doesn’t feel like that now but it will.’

She doesn’t answer but Catalina doesn’t seem to mind- not then, and not when she doesn’t answer anyone else either, all the people who tell her that they’re very sorry, that she’s gotten so big now, even the stupid woman with the too-bright lipstick who tells her that she’s a lucky girl to have such a nice new dress.

She gives them all the same blank stare until they get uncomfortable and look away- the stare of someone who can’t be hurt, who doesn’t need anyone or anything, who can’t feel anything at all.

Catalina doesn’t seem to mind- and when she can’t keep it up and bursts into stupid tears later that evening (after spilling the cocoa Catalina made her on her favourite pajamas), Catalina doesn’t seem to mind that either, just scoops her into her arms and rocks her back and forth without a word, which is good, becasue she can’t think of any words that would make her feel better.

It makes her feel a bit shaky for a moment- she wonders if it’s wrong to want to play a game about burying someone when she’s seen people buried for real…. But then she remembers what catalina told her when she asked if it was still ok to read and watch tv and do other normal things when mum and dad were gone.

(‘They want you to be happy, querida. It’s alright to be sad but it’s alright to be happy- to do things that make you happy too. It’s what they would want.’)

Catalina’s voice is so strong in her head that it actually drowns out some of the shaky-anxious thoughts- she’s able to smile at Anne.

‘Are you sure you want to play that?’

‘Yeah. I'm sure.’

She does still wonder if they’ll be able to play the same in her new bedroom but it’s ok, it’s just as good- perhaps even better, because when Catalina knocks on the door with chocolate biscuits, she says they can use the sheets from Cathy’s bed AND her bed as embalming bandages, and that means she can entomb Anne really authentically.

(They have to promise to put fresh sheets on both the beds when they’re done but, as anyone who has played Ince Princess Burial will know, it’s completely worth it.)

She entombs Anne as thoroughly as she can, until Anne starts whining that she can’t breathe- and then they have the excellent idea to include the things Mrs James taught them about Egyptian burial last week.

(They decide it doesn’t matter that the Inca’s didn’t use the Egyptian mummification methods. Anne reckons they probably would have done if they’d known about them. Or maybe they wouldn’t, but still, it makes the game even better, which for a game as good as Inca Princess Burial, is quite an achievement.)

They don’t have a proper hook, or even anything that can be used as a hook, but it’s still lots of fun doing the brain-through-the-nose bit (even if she keeps telling Anne that the real mummies were dead and wouldn’t have screamed quite so dramatically.)

Catalina and Jane come in when they’ve only just started, both holding half drunk cups of coffee and looking a bit panicked, but they calm down once they explain it’s part of the game.

Jane murmurs something to Catalina about ‘sugar and spice and all things nice’ that makes Catalina give a very un-Catalina-like snort of laughter, and then tells them they can have an ice lolly if they promise to move onto the next part of the game right now.

The idea of an ice lolly is tempting BUT they decide in favour of continuing the mummification process to the letter, as much as they can.

Jane laughs when they tell her what they’ve decided and tells Catalina it was ‘worth a try’, and Cathy decides she likes Jane more than Anne’s real mum or dad.

(She doesn’t like the way Anne’s mum will ask a question and then look around like she’s bored when she’s answering, and although she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, she’s still a tiny bit scared of Anne’s dad after he shouted at them for playing snakes and ladders with the ladder the house painters had left propped against the wall.

She hadn’t even been on the ladder- just the snake at the bottom, hissing and trying to catch and devour Anne’s kicking feet- but she’d still wanted to run away and hide when he roared at them and she’d been glad when her parents had come to pick her up soon after.)

At least, they try to follow the mummification process to the letter: Cathy really doesn’t want to use up all of her strawberry flavoured lip balm which is what will happen if they use it as embalming ointment. Anne asks if she wants the Inca Princess to just be buried un-embalmed and rot and rain down curses on them all, so she asks Anne if she wants to be left without a pretend-lipstick next time they want to play Business Woman Detective?

Anne says she’ll just borrow some from Mary or from her mum, even though even Cathy knows Mary doesn’t wear lipstick anymore and that Anne isn’t allowed in her mum’s bedroom ever ever and no exceptions...but she doesn’t sound like she really means it, so they just skip the embalming part. (The Inca Princess will probably understand.)

(She sometimes wants to ask Anne how the no-going-into-the-bedroom actually works- what does Anne do if she doesn’t feel well? What if she has a bad dream? What if there’s a powercut? What if robbers break in? She can think of a thousand what-if’s but she doesn’t ever ask Anne. Perhaps she doesn’t really want to hear the answer.)

(She’s very, very, very glad Catalina doesn’t have the same rule though, especially when it thunders.)

They’re half way through gathering up things to use as Offerings and Sacrifices (the coveted sparkly shoes, and Cathy’s favourite stuffed otter, and the specially-nice books Catalina sent her last Christmas with the covers made of cloth and the titles stamped in gold) when Catalina calls them for tea.

They’re both starving.

(Burials are SUCH hard work.)

#the next best thing #sixfic #six fanfiction #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction

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heythereunderoos · 5 years

Text

Craving More|| High School AU

Pairing: Senior!Tony x Sophomore!Peter Word Count: (Including lyrics) 3436 Warnings: Underage, recreational drug use, underage drug use, bullying

//Here we go again, I kinda wanna be more than friends. So take it easy on me, I'm afraid you're never satisfied//

Tony hadn't been excited at the prospect of another body in their home. He knew that no matter who it was, there wasn't anything or anyone that could warm the cold walls of their home. He knew that another person's chatter wouldn't be comforting or fill the empty halls, it would just make everything seem that much quieter, that much more lonely.

Maria had promised him that he had so much to look forward to. That despite the fact that this poor kid Peter's aunt, who had apparently taken care of him for a majority of his life, had died, that he was still perky and happy. Maria had told him that he needed more friends like that around, and Tony huffed.

Sure.

So Tony was slightly stunned when the boy bounded into the house with his pale yellow suitcases in tow with an equally bright smile, right towards him. Peter released his bags and his arms locked around Tony's neck with a heavy sigh.

"Long time no see, Tony!" The boy giggled into Tony's neck as Tony stood there, blinking, his arms out to his sides to avoid returning the hug.

Who the hell was this kid?

Maria huffed and gave him that look that Tony knew he had to succumb to. So he conceded, and let his muscles relax slightly, giving the kid an awkward pat on the back with both of his hands.

Peter wasn't blind to the older boy's obvious discomfort and pulled away quickly after receiving a few pats on the back. Peter could feel the heat blooming in his cheeks and huffed, his eyes finding the chocolate hardwood beneath his feet, as he tucked a curl behind his ear.

"S-Sorry. You p-probably don't remember m-me much. I'm P-Peter. Peter P-Parker." His eyes, though still towards the ground, were now following the way he wiggled his toes in his sunflower covered converse. He heard a gruff hmm resound from Tony's chest, and saw as the older boy's scuffed leather boots turned as he exited the room. Peter's head shot up and his hand reached out, as a silent squeak fell from his lips.

Peter thought maybe Tony would remember at least some of their childhood memories.

It would seem he had been horribly mistaken.

//Here we go again, we're sick like animals, we play pretend. You're just a cannibal and I'm afraid I wont get out alive. No, I won't sleep tonight//

Peter was trying his absolute best to belong here. But it didn't seem all that meant to be. He was attending Midtown High with Tony and was keeping up amazingly academically. Socially? He was totally falling short. That accompanied with the minor detail that he was sharing a house with Tony who apparently hated his guts? It made it hard to even pretend that he would make it here eventually let alone belong here in this moment. Peter knew that Maria was doing everything she could to make him feel at home, and be the accommodating mother and host that she could be, but Peter was incredibly alone.

It hadn't been a particularly good day. One of Tony's friends, by extension he claimed, Flash, was constantly on Peter's ass. Constantly nagging at him, putting him down, beating him. Today, he had managed a firm right hook to Peter's eye socket and he was feeling the repercussions of that vividly. His left eye was swollen shut and it throbbed, though not nearly as badly as his brain that had been so thoroughly rattled within his skull.

Peter, on his way home from school, had stopped at Delmar's to grab a shitty pair of sunglasses in a poor attempt to hide the inflamed eye, then quickly made his way home.

When Peter came in the door, Tony stood there looking absolutely pissed.

How dandy.

"Where the hell were you? Huh? You fucking punk, making me fucking get in trouble with my mom 'n shit."

Peter's eyes had found his yellow shoes again as he attempted to reconcile the situation, and kindle his relationship with Tony. Peter hadn't even given a thought to the fact that Peter and Tony were supposed to arrive home together. He was too busy well...getting his skull bashed in?

"I-I'm really sorry Tony. I h-had to talk to M-Mr. Harrington a-about D-Decathlon s-stuff." He shuffled his feet in a sorry attempt to shake his anxiety and continued on, "I p-promise I'll tell Maria it was my f-fault."

Though he wasn't looking directly at him, he could see Tony take brisk steps towards him, and his rough, calloused fingers caught his jaw, tugging it upward in a painfully sharp motion, jolting his brain yet again. Peter winced and Tony rolled his eyes.

"That ain't gonna fucking cut it this time, Kid. I'm tired of your stupid bullshit. Just fucking be on time tomorrow."

Tony released him and Peter let out a frustrated huff, before he burst out, "Y-You don't get to t-treat me this way! I d-deal with all this stupid shit a-at school and t-then I c-come h-here and t-this place is supposed to be my h-home too! I'm s-supposed to f-feel safe here a-and you t-treat me just like y-your s-stupid friends do. I h-haven't done anything to you. So w-why do you keep h-hurting me?"

Tony's eyes found Peter as the younger boy tore off the cheap sunglasses and sighed, attempting to wipe the tears away from his swollen eye, before stalking off to his room.

Tony was stupidly oblivious to other's feelings, of that he was painfully aware, but up until this point, he hadn't cared.

After Tony had collected his thoughts and believed he had given Peter a reasonably amount of time to calm down, he brought the kid an ice pack.

//Oh, oh I want some more. Oh, oh what are you waitin' for? Take a bite of my heart tonight. Oh, oh I want some more. Oh, oh what are you waitin' for? What are you waitin' for? Say goodbye to my heart tonight//

Peter could see that Tony was making a conscious effort. He was sending him small smiles, walking him to some of his classes to ensure he wouldn't be bothered, and when they were in the house he'd occasionally come and check on him. It made Peter beam. It seemed that things were looking upwards for both him, and his relationship with Tony.

In return, Peter made sure to cover for Tony if he decided to sneak out and do "senior things," whatever the hell that had meant, Peter wasn't entirely sure. He had guessed it had to do with things of an illicit nature, but was never confident enough to ask. He was perfectly content with the silent agreement the two of them had, having each others backs without having to explicitly state it.

Tonight wasn't at all what Peter had been expecting. Tony had snuck out, as he usually had on the weekends, but tonight he arrived home much earlier than usual. He stumbled in the front door, as Peter sat on the couch, working diligently on his homework. When Peter heard the front door his eyes shot upward, and saw a stumbling Tony. Peter, being Peter, was extremely concerned and ran to his side.

"T-Tony? Are you hurt? D-Do you need medical attention?" Peter's eyes raked Tony's body for any sign of bodily fluids, bruises, or broken bones, but couldn't find any. At Peter's concern, Tony chuckled, with a lazy side smirk.

"Don't be so concerned, kid. I'm just cross-faded as fuck right now." He laughed at himself, and Peter gave him a look that screamed I have no clue what the hell that means. With a gentle roll of his eyes, Tony took the kid’s arm and dragged him up the stairs towards the older boy's bedroom.

When Peter stood at the threshold, his eyes were wide, in utter awe that he was finally allowed in here, with Tony's permission. The older kid rolled his eyes and waved him in as he collapsed upon his bed, patting the space beside him.

Peter took hesitant steps towards the bed, and awkwardly seated himself on the bed's edge.

"D-Do you need anything, Tony? W-Water or something?" Tony just stared at the boys face: his flushed cheeks and button nose. But he couldn't tear his eyes away from the way the light hit the kid's whiskey colored eyes, or the golden flecks within them.

"Nah kid, 'm alright." Tony smiled gently before he scoffed, "dude, stop sitting there all awkward and just lay on the damn bed."

Peter was slightly shocked by the words, but nodded and shimmied his way onto the bed, as Tony watched and laughed softly. After the two were laid side by side, the room was filled with silence, and Peter took a glance at Tony. The older boy looked positively delicious, in his dark, fitted Black Sabbath shirt, glancing off at the ceiling as if contemplating the meaning of his existence, before his eyes found Peter's. Peter's thoughts ceased as Tony's eyes found his and he stared into their abysmal brown hue. Peter hadn't noticed the way he hesitantly gravitated towards Tony, until the older boy spoke and broke him from his thoughts.

"Pete...do you...do you like it here?"

Peter was genuinely taken aback by his question, and quirked his eyebrow as he gave the question some thought.

"A-At first...not really. Maria tried to make it nice. I tried hard to convince myself it was nice. After M-May...after May p-passed and I came here, nothing seemed to fit me quite right. I didn't belong at school, I didn't belong here, y-you," His voice trembled, and he forced himself to close his eyes, take a deep breath and proceed, "y-you hadn't remembered me at all, and we were so c-close, and y-you...you h-hated my guts and I didn't know why."

Peter's eyes found Tony's again, as the older boy let out a soft sigh, before those calloused fingers delicately took Peter's soft buttery hands between them.

"Fuck I'm-," another exasperated sigh leaves Tony's plump lips, "I'm so sorry, Pete. I promise that you belong here, and that I'll treat you better, treat you like you deserve--no, better than you deserve. You deserve better than this, but you belong here, with m-well w-with us."

A small smile graced Tony's features and Peter thought he could melt into those hands like putty if he smiled at him like that again. By now Peter's cheeks were aflame and he wished he could hide his face within the sheets, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Tony's. There was too much residing within them, so much passion and drive, and so Peter just stared.

"But I t-think I belong here with you, now."

//Here we are again, I feel the chemicals kickin' in. It's gettin' heavier, I wanna run and hide. I wanna run and hide. I do it every time, you're killin' me now. And I won't be denied by you, the animal inside of you.//

Tony had made good on his promise. Though he didn't remember making it, Tony treated Peter better than before. He walked him to his classes and even waited around after school if the younger boy had a club meeting. Occasionally Tony would sling his arm over Peter's shoulder and Peter would turn his head away as his cheeks lit on fire. Peter didn't mind belonging with Tony.

It made him feel whole, and appreciated and loved.

Not that Tony had any clue, because he was always oblivious, or so Peter thought.

After Tony had taught Peter what in the hell cross-faded had exactly meant, Peter thought that he could give drugs and alcohol a go. If Tony was there with him. He was unsure about being in that sort of state of mind by himself or at a party, the task seemed a little daunting.

So the two sat upon Tony's bed, as Tony pressed the small bits of marijuana in the small bowl. Tony was a little worried about the younger kid trying a bowl, but he was out of rolling paper so this would have to do.

The stench wasn't exactly pleasant, and it made Peter's stomach turn alongside the concept of getting possibly caught by Maria or Howard.

"Tony a-are you sure they won't be back tonight?"

"Aye, Pete, I told you a hundred times, they're out of the state and won't be back for a couple days. Calm down. You're gonna be alright. I'll be right here the whole time, kid."

"O-Okay." Tony looked up from his handiwork to give Peter a reassuring smile, and in return the kid smiled and awkwardly chuckled.

"Y-You're friends p-probably weren't this jumpy were they?"

"Eh," Tony shrugged, flicking the lighter a few times before a flame actually appeared, "everyone is a little nervous their first time Pete. You're no different than them." Tony waived the flame gently over the bits packed into the bowl, before placing his finger over the hole, inhaling gently as the smoke filled up the glass, before releasing his finger, and inhaling deeply. He let the smoke sit in his lungs, permeate the organs, before exhaling.

Peter watched the scene in awe, and bit his lip to contain himself as a result of how hot the action was. How Tony seemed confident in his motions, how the smoke blew from his lips, and the look of transcendence and dare he say bliss on Tony's face?

"You catch any of that, kid?" Tony asked before he turned to look at Peter who was staring back at him in awe. Tony chuckled gently before lighting the bowl again, and holding it up to Peter's lips. They had a good system going. Peter just inhaling and exhaling and Tony working the mechanics of the bowl that Peter was clearly clueless on.

Peter felt the back of his throat go numb, and coughed repeatedly. For a second, Tony was worried the kid would either puke or choke, but after tossing the kid a water bottle he settled down.

"H-Hey, Tony?"

"Yeah, kid?" Tony was working on taking his own drag before he glanced over and saw the kid’s eyes were a little bloodshot already.

"Is....is any of this real? Am...am I here right now?" Peter's eyes were wide as he slowly looked around the room, as if trying to gauge just how real this situation was. Tony chuckled and nodded his head, smoke dispersing from his lips and seeping out his nose.

"Yeah, kid this is all real. You and I are just chilling out in here." Peter smiled at that and Tony let out a breathy laugh. Tony didn't expect him to be this out of it, this early in the game, but he didn't mind. Peter's face scrunched up before he laid his head in Tony's lap as Tony scoffed. He was a cuddly one. But Tony wouldn't deny him that, so he gently carded his fingers through the younger boy’s soft hair as he spoke.

"Tony..." The boy hesitated, as he reached his hands upwards, taking the hand that Tony had within the boy’s locks between his soft fingers, fiddling with the calloused ones.

"W-Will you take c-care of me? N-Now that May is g-gone?" At this point Tony couldn't tell if the boy's eyes were bloodshot and glassy as a result of the paraphernalia or if he was on the verge of tears. Tony closed his eyes and let out a tight sigh, rubbing his thumbs over the back of Peter's hands.

"Yeah, Pete. I'll take care of you. You'll be okay here with us." He smiled gently down at the younger boy, and the boy gently returned it. Peter sat himself upwards, his hands still gripping Tony's tightly, as if that was the only thing grounding him in this wonky state of mind.

"You h-have really nice hands." Peter takes his lips between his teeth as he stares down at Tony's thick, rough fingers, caressing the pads of them gently. At this Tony laughs, a deep resounding laughter that fills Peter up with something akin to warmth and happiness.

"Thanks, Pete. Yours are nice too. Really soft. You use moisturizer?" Peter's giggles are soft and airy, and Tony thinks that he wouldn't mind hearing that forever. On a loop.

"No! I don't use moisturizer!" Another bout of giggles from Peter that reverberate warmly within Tony's chest. After his laughter has died down, Peter finds himself gravitating a little too close to Tony, but it's too late, because in his hazy state of mind he's crawled into Tony's lap and his head is tucked into the older boy's neck.

Tony doesn't breath, doesn't allow himself to touch the younger boy, and it's obvious to the kid.

"Y-You used to hold me like this as a kid. U-Used to take c-care of me." The boy sniffed and Tony's immediate reaction was to cuddle him close.

"Hey, kid, I told you that I've got you. I'm gonna take care of you, and you're gonna be okay. No need to get upset." His right hand was cupping Peter's head, gently running his fingers through his hair, and the other resided upon the boy's back, running his palm comfortingly over the expanse of his t-shirt.

Peter let himself be cradled for a few moments, enjoy the warmth radiating from Tony's body, and the feeling of being wrapped in security before he pulled back, and Tony looked at him with a curious face.

Peter let his eyes wander, from Tony's messy locks, to his quirked eye brow, to his intense gaze, his long pretty lashes, to the cute slope of his nose, the sharp cupid's bow and plump lower lip, to the stubble on the older boy's chin as Peter bit his lip.

"C-Can I uhh....can I kiss you?" The question took Tony aback, but he laughed gently before responding.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Pete-" his words were stifled by the pressure of baby soft plush lips pressed against his, and the complete loss of any thoughts flowing within his head.

The kid was by no means experienced but it hadn't mattered. Though sloppy, it was endearing the amount of passion and excitement Tony could feel through the gentle way their lips molded together. One kiss turned to two, turned to four, 'til the pair weren't going to pull away despite needing air. Peter's finger were tangled in Tony's hair, and the hand Tony previously had within the boy's hair had now found his chin and was delicately cupping it. Peter was the one that conceded, only gently releasing the other boy's lips before gulping for air and releasing a content sigh.

"That hair," the kid huffs again as a bright smile lights up his face, "it drives me absolutely crazy."

With Tony's consent, Peter clung onto him. Constantly at his side, providing him with company and intriguing conversations. The two were practically inseparable. Tony had introduced Peter to his friends and though they were hesitant, eventually they took to liking Peter. Tony met Peter's friends Ned and MJ, and though Peter was nervous that Tony wouldn't appreciate how quirky and dorky the two were, Tony melded along with them just fine.

At the moment the two were wrapped in each other's arms, tangled within Tony's sheets just basking in each other's presence before the younger boy spoke.

"Umm...T-Tony? I was w-wondering if maybe you'd f-feel comfortable doing m-more than j-just kissing?" Peter's face was tucked into Tony's side, though despite being muffled, Tony heard him loud and clear, and chuckled gently.

"Oh yeah? And do what? Make out?" The older boy teased, and received a slap on the arm, Peter's face growing hotter by the second.

"N-No you jerk. You know exactly what I m-mean." Tony's fingers found Peter's chin and tugged his face up, so the boy was forced to look him in the eye.

"No, I don't believe I do. I'll do whatever you'd like, you just have to say the word, baby boy." Peter's eyes widened and the heat in his cheeks intensified at the pet name.

"W-Well umm...c-could we make love?" Peter's lip was tucked between his teeth, and thought it was one of Tony's favorite sights, he was far too enthralled with the endearing manner with which Peter had asked him that question.

"For you baby? Of course."

_________________________________________

Hey there stranger, check me out on AO3 will ya?

Sorry if this sucks btw, I really gave it my all, but I’m honestly so tired

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spookyspaghettisundae · 5 years

Text

That Look in Her Eyes

May stood outside the door and fidgeted while she waited for it to open.

The bright and musical sound of the doorbell had long passed yet the memory of it still rang in her ears.

“I have something incredible that I need to show you,” Alice had written to her. In the flurry of texts that had followed after that, May failed to get any further information out of her best friend about this mysterious revelation. Alice had kept it such a secret that May felt both a nervousness in her gut as well as something tickled her nerves in a pleasant way and gave her cause for excitement—leaving her with a mixture of impatience and curiosity.

And now, while waiting for the front door to her friend’s house to open, she reviewed their written exchange leading up to this visit. Alice’s messages were truly indecipherable. There was something she wanted to show her at all costs, but unwilling to offer a single clue about.

“No spoilers,” as they would usually tell each other. The final text from Alice before May had told her she was on her way over.

After unbearably long minutes, the lock clicked and the door swung open. May slipped her phone back into her bag and gave her friend a bright smile in greeting. They hugged.

“This had better not just be another prank based on some crappy internet meme,” May said as soon as they let go.

Alice just shook her head and she had that look in her eyes that May had witnessed only a few times before: when May had watched her figure out how to jailbreak her phone, when Alice had found out that Twinkies were back in the stores again, and in high school when her friend had aced a test that she thought she had flunked.

It also looked thoroughly crazy. Only now did it dawn on May that Alice looked like a nutcase right when she had that look in her eyes. Her irises sparkled with something magical, something caught in between genius and madness. Her lips parted for an open-mouthed smile that her eyes did not share, dithering between incomplete satisfaction and the wonder of discovery.

“No, no, no. You can have my entire video game collection if this is a prank. No, this is—for the lack of a better way to put it—unreal,” Alice replied.

May tilted her head and narrowed her eyes as she asked, “Still no spoilers? Come on. I’m here now.”

Alice giggled and shook her head. She ushered May inside and shut the door behind her.

It was a sunny day, everything was bright and colorful and there was something cheerful about this entire meeting. May was also happy to finally see Alice again after a lousy week at work and way too little sleep. Despite all that, May’s stomach knotted in what transformed into anxious anticipation.

Something was wrong. She just could not figure out what.

Following their usual habits and rituals, May wanted to walk into the living room, but Alice took her hand and dragged her in an unfamiliar direction. Her friend guided her down the hallway to a door to what must have been the basement. May had never seen this cellar—Alice had moved here only a few weeks ago and yet owed her a tour of the entire house.

Alice stopped there, still holding May’s hand. Her fingers were cold and her palm clammy. That weird smile continued to plaster her friend’s face.

“This, well. Uh, it started this—you know what? I’m just gonna show you,” Alice said. “I’ll explain the rest as we go. You need to see this first.”

She opened the basement door and flicked a switch. A lonesome bulb hanging over simple wooden stairs flickered until it emitted a constant light. Alice giggled again and took the first steps down.

“Okay, you have to give me something,” May said. Her feet felt like lead, giving every step weight as she followed. Her throat burned and for some inexplicable reason, she felt like throwing up. “You’re freaking me out, woman.”

May gave her a feeble smile which Alice only caught a glimpse of as she shot her a glance on the way down. The feeble smile faded immediately afterwards and May began feeling sick to her stomach.

Everything in the basement looked as normal as the rest of the house, as commonplace as the bright green lawn out front, as predictable and compartmentalized and idyllic as the rest of the entire street and neighborhood in this suburban stretch of town. At the bottom of the stairs, Alice continued on, leading May along past a washing machine and a dryer and some shelves stacked with cardboard boxes and tools and battered old boxes of classic board games.

Alice steepled her fingers in front of her mouth and pursed her lips against them as she stared at another door leading to another partition of the basement.

She turned to May again, her hands still in front of her mouth but with that same crazy glint in her eyes.

“I got nothing,” Alice told her, followed by another giggle erupting from her mouth.

She turned and grabbed the doorknob and twisted it. Some metal squealed from all around it, casting a strange echo that poured out from the cracks. The simple wooden door—that looked just like the one leading into the basement—opened with such gravity that it looked like it weighed ten times as much. Like a bank vault’s door, or something else of that magnitude.

The blood drained from May’s face as she stared into the abyss beyond the door. Without realizing it, she shifted her weight to lean away from it. An instinctive terror made every fiber in her body move backwards, but morbid curiosity kept her from running away. With just that subtle movement, her shoe scuffed over the concrete floor and the sound of it echoed infinitely in the vast space beyond the door.

What at first looked like stars were actually fluorescent fungi growing from the ceiling of an enormous cavern. Rivers that glowed with a dim green light meandered around stalagmites in a gentle flow. Strange creatures exhibiting an uncanny amount of spider-like legs and two eyestalks that ended in tiny white lights stared back at May. Hundreds of paces away, the nearest one of the bizarre beings suddenly skittered away and vanished in between some rocks—the other critters followed. At this distance, it was hard to tell if the things were the size of cats or the size of bears.

The cavern reached so far that she perceived no end to it. Overcoming the initial shock, she leaned forward instead, unwittingly trying to fathom just how huge this subterranean wonderland was.

In a triumphant tone, Alice asked, “Right?”

“What the hell? How is this even possible?”

Still captivated by the unbelievable vista, May only saw from the corner of her eye how Alice shook her head and then answered, “I don’t know.”

“How the hell did you not know of this when you bought the place?”

“It wasn’t like this, then. It all started this morning.”

May peeled her eyes off of the strange otherworld and turned to face Alice. Mouth agape, she asked, “Huh?”

“All the heating in the house had shut down and I wanted to check the boiler room to see what’s up, and instead of that, well—I found this.”

“Does anybody else know about this?”

“No, you’re the first I wanted to show this to. I knew I couldn’t explain it. Nobody would have believed me if I told them, not even you.”

“Have you gone in there? How far does this—this place—how far does it go?” And before Alice could reply, May also asked, “And what are those things?”

“I, uh—I have no clue,” Alice said. She shrugged and the corners of her mouth drooped in disappointment, but her eyes still maintained that crazy sparkle. “Wanna find out?”

May swallowed and it felt like a wad of pure fear had balled up and nestled inside her throat.

She did want to find out. But those creatures she had seen, the sense of infinity that filled her heart when her gaze swept over the visible portion of the cavern and knowing in her heart of hearts that this place reached into forbidden places—these things unknown filled her with unspeakable dread.

“Yes,” she finally said as the curiosity won out.

And with that, the two friends grabbed some flashlights and set out to explore the strange place.

Little did they know: they were going to die that day.

—Submitted by Wratts

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literaryfaeriecorner · 3 years

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02/21/2021: Promotions, Old Friends, and Yellow School Buses

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February 21st, 2021

somehow i received a promotion at work last Friday even though i am literally probably one of the LEAST motivated people teaching at that school... fuck. so... now, instead of just being a regular-schmegular teacher, i am now the '6th grade head social studies teacher' which means that i have to run planning meetings for the social studies team, attend morning meetings discussing whole-grade growth and failings, and solutions for how we're going to get the kids to... not suck. uuuuuuggggghhhhhh!!! and this is for the rest of the year and the next!!!!

apparently, i am the 'perfect person' for this position because all of my classes have consistently performed better than the rest... but between you, me, and the entire internet, that speaks more to the abilities of my students than my own personal abilities as a teacher. i don't believe i'm a sucky teacher or anything but the fact remains that between work, grad school, delusional lovesick-related episodes, mental illness, and other varying distractions, i am not Doing The Best I Can. in fact, i'm literally in survival mode 95% of the time. the other 5% of the time, i'm in manic-as-fuck mode. so... do i really DESERVE this promotion? who even fucking knows? i like to believe, however, that i'll eventually figure out how to bullshit this new responsibility as well and no one will be the wiser. i mean, if this promotion came with a financial boost as well, i'd be more inclined to not fuck it up but, like... i'm doing more work for the same weak ass pay... i'm not as motivated with kind words and encouragement than i would be with a solid boost to my pay grade. anyway... whatever.

i was on tumblr the other day (i am fasting from all social media sites during the day for Lent but tumblr doesn't count because i literally just reblog five or six posts into the void, look at sad literature quotes, and log out just to do it all over again the next day... i am not addicted to tumblr as i am to twitter, instagram, pinterest, and linkedin... yes, linkedin. my quest to escape my job has led me down a very weird and addictive path) and i came across this post by user beetlejuices:

"isn't it all about old friends? like everything? all of it?"

and it is. i think so. i really do.

one of the things i've been conscious of in my early adulthood is that i am still chasing after the friendships i had in middle school. i wrote about this two Lents ago too. there is a memory that i remember so vividly in middle school and it reminds me constantly about how i felt so loved and appreciated and like the world couldn't go on without me if i somehow left or disappeared or went away. i think about it all the time. that is how freeing and loving and whole it is. just a simple memory of being three hours late to school (after a huge, blown out argument between parents who should've divorced years ago) and being startled by a flood of texts that starting pouring in at 7 that morning.

ashley: YOOOO where r u? they snagged all the donuts from the corner store!

alysha: you missed the bus this morning?

ashley: i bought donuts off eman 4 u... say im the best :D

kiera: U MISSED CRYSTAL'S FAT HEAD ASS SLIP DOWN THE STEPS LMAOOO

kiera: u're always here early u good?

alysha: are you coming 2 school today?

ashley: are u ok?

Christyl: don't forget we have a test in math!! where are you?

kiera: babe?

ashley: are you ok? why is ur phone off?

alysha: i just talked to ashley are u ok?

Christyl: where r u?

kiera: i just talked to ashley r u ok?

kiera: none of ur sisters r here either... u ok?

ashley: i'll call again @ lunch

alysha: pls be safe

Christyl: i'll tell the teacher you're sick and maybe you can take it tomorrow

Christyl: are you ok?

and even more messages that were sent during and inbetween classes... i thought it was a bit too late (and too time consuming) to respond to them all individually so after being signed into school three hours late, i decided to wait for all my friends at our table in the cafeteria to surprise them before explaining my mess of a morning. i was nervous because i thought they would be mad at me for some reason. but as soon as they saw me, ashley, alysha, kiera, and christyl, they came barreling towards me screaming my name. it was an entire scene. people looking at them crazy and then raising their eyebrows at me, not seeing what the big deal was. i probably looked the same exact way that i did the day before. unspectacular, bookish, awkward. they couldn't see what the big deal was. it embarrassed me but it thrilled me at the same time.

they nearly knocked me to the floor pushing each other to get to me first trying to steal the first hug. in the end, i stretched my arms out as far as i could and they all fell into them. we probably looked a mess. a tangle of brown legs, arms, frizzy hair, loose braids, and scuffed dress shoes. i remember feeling so loved and wanted. i felt bigger and grander than i was. i had stopped the world for five entire minutes and i didn't do anything. i was just existing.

i don't really talk to any of the girls anymore. i follow them on social media and i wish them happy birthday every year and we're all on each other's close friends list on insta... so i still know a few, if not all, of their secrets... but we'll probably never be as close as we were in middle school. and that's ok. i still love them as much as i did when they tackled me in the lunch room that day. i still root and cheer for them like we still spend every night after school on the phone for hours talking shit and planning presidential campaigns and gossiping about boys. i will never forget that day in the lunchroom. ever. and, like i said, it has only occurred to me now, as a young adult, that i've been chasing that kind of friendship and sisterhood since it happened.

i like to treat all my friendships as mini-romances. i remember a tweet that said, "friendships ARE romance," and i agree. i think i'm in love with all of my close friends, if not all of my friends. it's embarrassing (just a bit) but i have probably fallen in love with all of my friends at least once or twice. this is especially true for my group of college friends (at this point, they are really family). i have been in love, at least once, with all eight of them throughout our four years. i don't actually find this embarrassing like i said earlier. what's embarrassing is that this information might embarrass other people which, in turn, would thoroughly embarrass me. but the fact itself doesn't embarrass me. that is how i am. i fall in love and out of love at breakneck speeds. i think it's important to be a little bit in love with your friends.

i really enjoyed being in undergrad and planning literal dates between all eight or nine of us. and we would call it that. "what are we doing for our date next weekend?" "so who's going on the date tomorrow?" "are we cancelling the date or does the weather not matter?" (the weather always mattered.) my favorite college date was valentine's day senior year. we all went to korean-style karaoke and ordered so much food and drink we could barely stand to sing. we were all sat around the tv singing horribly to mariah carey or beyonce or rapping to nicki minaj verses. we took so many bad pictures and tone deaf videos and we kept leaning or hugging or holding each other's hands. that's another thing i love about my college family. most of us are touchy-feely people. i am a touchy-feely person. i'm southern and my mom is ridiculously gooey so one of my love languages, inevitably, is touch. i, usually, reign it in A LOT unless i have a partner but in college, i somehow discovered a whole group of people who loved to kiss each other on the cheek and hold hands and lean on other people, and lock arms. i felt at home. really.

maybe it's not only about old friends, though. maybe it's about feeling at home.

there was another post on tumblr and i think about it a lot. it's a screenshot of a tweet from twitter user @HumbleCore.

"HUGE NEWS: finally found my best friend from middle school on FB. We've both been looking for each other for over a decade. I told her I think about her whenever I play any boardgame or drive by a church. She told me she uses my name as her password at work. A perfect reunion."

when i read that the other night, i cried. i don't know why. it was heavy and ridiculous and i was worried my roommates would hear me. i don't know why i cried. at all. and even typing it out like that made me want to cry again. the feeling is not as strong or as overwhelming as it was the first time but it's still there.

i think about a best friend i had in first grade. even before i thought of ashley as my best friend (i have known Middle School Ashley since the first grade. i thought we were destined to be best friends forever and ever and ever, which is what i wrote in her middle school yearbook). his name was Malik. or Malique. my memory fails me. but anyway, i loved him like crazy. we didn't do anything without the other. we shared lunch together, we HAD to be partners on every field trip, i cried when Ms. Sanchez moved my seat from his in an effort to stop us from disrupting her lessons and i hated her for an entire week. (a very long time from a first-grade perspective.) even now, i think about him whenever i go to petting zoos or farms and when i ride on yellow school buses with my students.

Malik/Malique was my first kiss. we were hiding from Ms. Sanchez and the other chaperones so we could pet the goats one last time. while we were hiding behind a barn, he kissed me. "for good luck," he said. and then we sprinted across the farm to get back to the goats. and we pet them again before Ms. Sanchez found us and ordered us back on the big yellow school bus where we held hands for the entire hour-long ride back to school.

it's very silly to think now but in high school when i was trying to determine whether i loved my first boyfriend or not i remember thinking, "well, does he make me feel like Malik/Malique?" it's silly but sweet. at fourteen, still comparing the way he made me feel behind a barn at 5 years old to how another boy, years and years later, made me feel. it is silly but i think it's sweet.

i don't actually have any interest in finding Malik/Malique or knowing for certain what he does or how he's doing because i seriously doubt i had such an impact on his life, but i hope he's well and alive and happy because that's what i always naturally hope for when i pass petting zoos or farms or see bright yellow school buses.

so, yes. i think everything, us, our relationships, the entire world, is about old friends. all of it. every last bit of it.

i have a whole-grade data analysis, 300 pages of reading, and two mini-papers for classes to finish before tonight so i'm going to get going... i just wanted to write about old friends first.

#on love #on friendship #on teaching #on community #stream of conscious #crushes

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ephemeral-writings · 7 years

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ninety-four; sehun

14. wind

sehun x reader

word count: 1.5k of something that started too long ago and barely got finished now whoops

The bleachers were filled to the brim with students, teachers, and parents alike. Everyone wanted to witness the football championship of SM High. You personally didn’t know a thing about the sport except how to win which was to run the double-pointed end ball to the other side. You weren’t even going to pretend you knew which side was your school running.

But speaking of running, you watched as the players warmed up, some running, others stretching. Player Ninety-four was especially under your radar even while you squeezed through the throngs of spectators to where your best friend was supposedly seated.

“Over here, Y/N!” You spotted Yeseul in the third row to the field, waving you over. Naturally, you checked your vicinity to see if one, was it safe to walk down the steps, and two because you felt his stare. You cursed Yeseul under your breath for shouting your name so loud. No doubt was it a sly tactic to catch his attention.

Oh Sehun, SM High senior football player and co-captain, was staring straight at you. Yeseul had caught wind, courtesy of her boyfriend Kim Minseok, that the stoic jock had taken an interest in you. You hadn’t believed her at first, brushing off the matter since there was no way Oh Sehun would suddenly find you pleasing to the eyes or charming to no end. There was just no way.

However, when you finally reached Yeseul and sat down, you looked up again, and he was still staring at you, as if his eyes had followed you through the whole journey down the metal bleachers. It wasn’t until Minseok in his matching jersey, save for the number ninety-nine etched on his back, ran up to Sehun and clapped him on the back did he look away.

“What was that?” Yeseul gasped. “He was practically undressing you with his eyes!”

An older couple who sat a row in front whipped their heads back, shooting Yeseul a scandalous look.

“Jesus frick, can you not, Seul?” When you agreed to watch the game with her, you were only interested in testing out the theory that someone as hot at Oh Sehun could be interested in you, not for an opportunity for her to embarrass you in front of the whole football team.

It took a bit of convincing to get Yeseul to shut up about your non-existing love life, and focus on her boyfriend on the field. Minseok was a great player as far as you could see. He wasn’t the largest guy but he was agile as heck. You watched as he snuck up on the guy from the opposite who had the ball clutched under his arms, and within seconds, Minseok had him tripping and toppling over. Yeseul was all for cheering for her man at the top of her lungs.

You weren’t going to deny staring at Sehun(he was part of the game, so-- yeah), and you’d be damned if you denied finding him ten thousand times more attractive. It was different than seeing the Oh Sehun in your literature class half-heartedly listen to lectures; different than him sitting in the cafeteria table amongst his teammates, and not bother to engage in their conversations. You had never seen Oh Sehun in his element-- in this element-- in which he’s passionate and driven to win.

You found yourself drooling over his physique that seemed to epitomize that of a football player-- broad shoulders, huge pecs, thick thighs. It was the middle of autumn. Were you really getting hot and bothered right now?

As the scoreboard drew closer and closer, both teams being equally good, every one watched with bated breath as player Eighty-eight from your school ran from 40 left field to the end zone on the right. One of the player from the opposite team was literally head-to-ass chasing him. However, the guy was quickly taken down by Sehun as Eighty-eight successfully made the touchdown. The crowd went roaring. After almost two hours of investing yourself in the sport, you were quick to immerse yourself in cheering along. You screamed until your throat itched.

“C’mon! Let’s go!” Yeseul grabbed your arm and weaved you out of the bleachers, dragging you to God-knows-where.

It was dark, but you picked up the sound of a mass of baritone voices cheering and the noise got clearer the more you walked. Coming to a clearing, the stadium lights blinded you momentarily, and you realized that Yeseul had released you from her grip to run to her boyfriend. Minseok whole-heartedly took her in his arms and spun her around like the princess she was. That didn’t make you feel lonely at all. All the while, all the sweaty boys in uniform couldn’t care less about the couple, and proved so when the captain, you assumed, announced a party at his house.

The mass of sweaty young men produced a evident sound of approval, as well as clangs of shoulder pads hitting against each other as some chest bumped in the air.

“Hey, Seul,” you interrupted, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder. “I’m gonna take off now.”

“What? No! You have to come with us,” she pleaded softly, but her eyes were threatening.

“Yeah, Y/N. And you know who would love you there as well?” Minseok leaned in and grinned at you suggestively. You blushed, but make no acknowledgement to what--- who he was implying.

“It’s cool. I’m a little wiped out after all, that, so I don’t think I can handle a party.” You chuckled weakly to further emphasize your fatigue. It wasn’t particularly something you wanted to spend your Friday night doing, partying with a bunch of people from your school that you don’t even know. Plus, you had a test on Tuesday that you really should be studying for.

“Ugh, fine, killjoy. You owe me a hangout this weekend, okay?” Yeseul idea of hanging out consisted of binge watching shows while painting her nails. You never understood the concept of multitasking, especially when you knew for a fact that Yeseul couldn’t understand a single word the people on screen said without reading the captions. Nevertheless, you gave her your word, and heading off in the direction you came in from. The stadium was already empty of its spectators, and remnants of the events was made obvious from the single custodian who was weaving about the bleachers, picking up the rubbish lousy people had left.

You were nearing the gate when someone’s scuffing of shoes had you turning around. Never would you have guessed that it was Sehun who was approaching you. With a short jog, he eventually stood in front of you, and being that this was the first time you ever had direct interaction with him, you were pleasantly surprised to see how much taller he was than you; you had to crane your neck to stare at the man in the eyes.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” Sehun had to mentally remind himself to come off easy, and pretending he was unsure of your name would surely do the trick.

You, on the other note, was dumbstruck that the Oh Sehun had finally decided to approach you, after what with all the teasing coming from your best friend and her boyfriend slash his teammate that had started just shy of four months ago.

Had it not been for Sehun’s sudden sneeze, you would’ve been caught staring at his handsome face for a second too long. He was doned in a grey hoodie with the school’s logo across his (broad) chest and a pair of black sweats, a combo that should’ve deemed warm enough for the autumn night, but you noted the clumped up strands of hair that stuck to his face and realized his sweat have gone cold from the chill air.

“Bless you,” you offered with a small smile. “And yes, that’s right. Did you needed something, Sehun?”

“No, I don’t. I just...Did you needed company walking home?”

It was quite an odd sight to see the infamous perpetual poker face morph into one of a more boyish nature; Sehun even had the audacity to blush.

“Isn’t there an after-party that requires the captain’s presence?” You chuckled good-naturedly.

“Co-captain, actually, and not really. They’ve had tons of party after a win and I usually bail out, and that never stopped them from partying,” Sehun explained. “Plus, I’m beat, so, yeah.”

“Well, if that’s the case then your presence in walking me home is welcomed.”

Sehun, who had been hanging on your every word, grinned at your witty remark, and glad that you hadn’t rejected his offer. Unfortunately, before he could say something possibly clever back, his nose began to itch again.

“Bless you,” you said, unable to stop the giggles from slipping out.

“Thank you,” Sehun sheepishly scratched his temple.

“How about we stop by the cafe near here, and I buy you a drink as a thank you?”

Sehun was more than happy to oblige, and as you got to learn about Oh Sehun through an autumn trek, you figured your best friend wasn’t entirely crazy, but you were apparently. Crazy.

Crazy for Sehun, and just luckily, he was thoroughly whipped for you.

#okay this isn't even a challenge anymore lmAO #it's just gonna be me sporadically wanting to write and using the words as prompts #okAY???#exo #exo scenarios #sehun #sehun scenario #kpop scenarios #oh sehun #30 day challenge #fluff

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meenasmoon · 7 years

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How about Meena and Johnny as chilhood friends. Johny had a crush on her but she studied abroad for many year and he never had the chance to express his feelings. Now she is back and YOU GO JOHNNY BOY!!!

My Starlight

I wrote this badboy on a stopover in LA. Hopefully i’ll write some more today pn my 11 hour flight to Spain. Enjoy!!!

It all started with a tentative knock on the door.

Johnny was sitting in the living room, fiddling with his toys and missing his old home. He was only seven and his family had uprooted their entire lives in order to move across the sea to Califurnia. Naturally he was despondent that he had to leave the land he was born in, including all of his friends and most of his extended family.

Johnny looked around and when he saw that his parents were nowhere to be found he pushed himself onto his feet and trudged to the door. Still wary of this new place, he only cracked the front door open, his little brown eyes peering curiously at the front stoop. When he caught sight of her his bad emotions melted away completely and he threw the door open wide.

She was taller, bigger than him, as was natural for an elephant, but she seemed to shrink slightly as her eyes locked with his. She was wearing a baby blue sundress that was covered in tiny little daisies like sprinkles on a cake. She was wearing worn pink converse with untied laces that dragged on the ground. Her cheeks were covered in a light smattering of freckles and her eyes were an iridescent blue.

She was pretty.

That was the first thought that ran through Johnny’s mind as he stared at the elephant girl. To her credit, she returned his blank stare with a shy smile that twinkled delicately in her baby blues. Johnny felt the floor fall out from under him when he saw that little twinkle. Never had any other animal managed to do this to him and he was completely confused.

It took him a few moments but finally he found his voice. “‘Ello.” He said simply and the girl perked up slightly.

“Hi.” She said in a quiet, tentative voice that sounded like dripping honey it was so sweet and smooth. She played with the tray in her hands and suddenly Johnny realized that she was holding out a tray of cupcakes. He gently took them from her and looked down at the sweets reverently. They were small and dainty but they looked like masterpieces. The fluffy yellow cakes were decorated with the perfect dollop of chocolate icing and a calculated smattering of rainbow sprinkles.

“Thank ya.” He suddenly remembered his manners and held one hand out to her, “I’m Johnny.” When the girl took his hand Johnny decided to try out the move he had seen his father employ on his mother. He gently twisted her hand and instead of shaking it, pressed a tiny kiss to the pack of it.

When he looked up his face was burning the same bright red as the girl’s. He quickly pulled back, hoping that she didn’t run away screaming about his cooties. He didnt have any, his mom had checked him thoroughly. Instead the girl pulled her ears in close to her head and tangled her hands in her dress. It made Johnny even happier when she didnt wipe her hand off. She must not have heard about the cooties he used to have.

“I-I-I’m M-M-Meena.” The girl stuttered out in the silence as she studiously kept her eyes glued to the ground. Johnny searched the sidewalk for anything interesting that she might be looking at but all he found was a smooth black stone and a couple twigs.

She must want the stone but thought it rude to ask so Johnny crouched down, picked up the stone and held it out for her. “It’s real pretty. Do ya want it?”

When Meena looked at him with confusion in her eyes he stepped forward, took her hand and slipped the smooth stone into her hand. He gave her a little crooked smile and Meena’s face turned bright red once more.

“Th-thanks. Do um… do you want to maybe come over and play sometime?” Meena clutched the stone tightly in her fist and looked shyly down at Johnny, her cheeks still freshly flushed but her expression was hopeful.

“Yeah!” He quickly tried to recover his manners, knowing that his mother would be disappointed if he didn’t treat Meena like a lady, “I mean yeah I would. I’ll ask me mum if I can come na.” He suddenly realized that he had essentially invited himself over, but before he could backtrack Meena’s face bloomed into a bright smile and she brought the hand clasped over her new stone to her heart.

“Y-Yeah. That sounds like fun.” She smiled at him, and Johnny was caught in her gaze again. He was staring at her eyes again when he realized that she was waiting for him to go ask his mom. Johnny shot her a sheepish grin and then disappeared into his house, the front door still wide open. His sneakers squeaked as he dashed through the house, looking for his parents.

He was running through the kitchen when he slammed right into his father. The large gorilla chuckled and plucked him off of the ground where he had fallen onto his butt. "Where ’re ya off ter Johnny? Ya kna you’re not supposed ter be runnin’ in the bleedin’ gaff. Your mum will kill ya.”

Johnny giggled when his dad playfully put him in a headlock, “Dad!” He protested when his father started tickling him mercilessly. Marcus chuckled and released his son at his request, smiling when he saw that the sad, far off look that had been lingering in Johnny’s eyes since they had told him about the move was finally gone.

“Dad! Can I go play wif me new friend?” He pulled out his biggest begging eyes as he stared up at his father pleadingly, “I promise I’ll finish unpackin’ tomorra.”

Marcus frowned and scratched his head as he looked around at all of the unpacking that they still had yet to do. “I dunna son. We still ‘ave alot ter do ‘ere. Maybe ya should wait until next week.” Johnny’s small form slumped sadly and Marcus felt his heart break a little in his chest. Johnny nodded silently, all enthusiasm and happiness having evaporated. Marcus resisted falling prey to his pout for all of two second before his sighed and gave in.

“But I guess since ya ‘ave been such a big ‘elper it would be fine.” He said softly and Johnny lit up like Christmas Tree. He spun around, shoved the plate of cupcakes into his father;s hands and dashed back towards the front door, where he could see Meena nervously waiting for him. Marcus looked at the cupcakes in confusion and then shook his head, chuckling softly.

He lumbered into the living room where his wife was staring out the front window, a happy smile on her face. Marcus breathed another sigh of relief at the sight. She hadn’t quite been the same optimistic mammal since their move. Marcus came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, following her gaze to the two young children, walking casually towards the small yellow house across the street.

“Our little boy is gonnah marry that girl one day.” She suddenly remarked and Marcus stared at her incredulously, “I can feel it in my bones.”

Meanwhile Meena was leading Johnny into her tiny yellow house. The little gorilla looked around at the walls curiously, his eyes wide as he took in every picture on the walls. He was staring at one of Meena’s baby pictures when suddenly his new friend stopped and the duo was met by an elderly elephant with a cane.

His eyes were hard as he examined Johnny and the little gorilla automatically froze up nervously, looking up at the intimidating elephant with big brown eyes.

“Hi Grandpa!” Meena piped up excitedly and suddenly the older elephant’s stern gaze softened completely.

“Hi Angel Baby.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Meena’s forehead, making her giggle and blush slightly.

“Can Johnny and I go play in my room?” Meena asked sweetly, reaching back to clasp Johnny’s hand as if to pull him along with her. The little gorilla just blushed at the contact and scuffed his shoe nervously on the floor.

Meena’s grandfather seemed to think it over for a second before nodding slowly. Meena stood on her tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek and then they were off to her room, still connected by their hands.

Once they got up to Meena’s room she released his hand and nervously wandered over to her hand-painted toy chest. Johnny looked around the purple room as Meena rummaged around in the toy chest, looking for something for them to do. The room was decorated with hand drawn pictures, photos and various other decorations. Johnny turned around and found Meena shyly holding up a keyboard and a flowery ukulele.

“Do you wanna play with these?” She asked shyly and Johnny eagerly nodded his head as he hurried over and began playing some of his old piano melodies on the keyboard. Meena watched him in awe for a second before she began to strum her ukulele to match his song. Once they grew comfortable they began to sing along, their sweet little voices melding together perfectly.

You won’t believe it, until you feel it,

Or see it with your own eyes,

Answered loves callin and now we’re falling,

Like when two world’s collide,

And so it began.

She picks me uh uh up from the ground,

Whenever she’s around, whenever she’s around,

She picks me uh uh up from the groooound

And I’m never coming down.

The end of the summer crept up on Johnny like a monster that had been lying in wait for him to be vulnerable again. He and Meena had spent practically every day together since they met, practically inseparable. The summer had been filled with sleepovers in blanket forts, amateur jam sessions, ice cream trucks, and countless adventures into the far reaching unknown of their imaginations. Johnny had been a cowboy, a knight, an astronaut, and a secret agent. By his side for every fantastic event was Meena.

Until today.

Johnny squirmed in his seat in the back of his mother’s car, nervously watching as they neared his new school. Part of him was excited to get back to school, but another, major part of him was back in the culdesac, rescuing Meena from a fire-breathing dragon. He squirmed again, this time catching his mother’s attention inthe rear view mirror.

“Are you nervous love?” She asked cheerily and all Johnny could do was slowly nod his head. Eloise Bannerton pulled into the drop off zone of the elementary school and quickly put the car in park so that she could look back at her precious little boy. She gave him a quick once over and couldn’t help the conflicting sensations that ran through her heart. Her pang of concern warred with the swell of her pride in him and she decided that the best route to take was to lift her boy up rather than keephim sheltered in her embrace.

“I knoh its ah little scary love, but you love school and you’ll doh soh well here.” She whispered, stroking his cheek. When he didn’t perk up like usual she decided to use a different tactic.

“Alsoh… I know for ah fact that little Miss Meenah goes here too. Why dane’t you goh find hah?” Her accent thickened with emotion when she saw the tentative eagerness reappear on Johnny’s face. Their moment was rudely interrupted when another impatient parent honked from behind them. Eloise’s face contorted in fury and she leaned out the window to address the impatient mom. With a voice that rivaled her husband’s in its dangerousness she roared out.

“I’m saying goodbye to my son you hussy!!” The feline in the driver’s seat shrunk down in embarrassment, “Shut the bloohming hell up!!”

Eloise ducked her head back in the car, gave her giggling son a kiss on the forehead and ushered him out of the car. She watched him go for a second before she started to head out of the parking lot, muttering angrily to herself about rude felines and first day jitters.

Meanwhile, Johnny was walking quickly across the field of the school and in through the front doors, a gorilla on a mission. His brand new converse squeaked on the linoleum floor as he navigated the crowds in the hallways, his brown eyes scanning the masses for the familiar shape of his best friend. When the bell rang fifteen minutes later he was despondent in the knowledge that Meena was nowhere to be found. He trudged to his assigned classroom and cautiously walked into the unfamiliar space. His whole body was a ball of tension as he surveyed the brightly colored classroom, looking for an empty seat.

He was still in the middle of his hunt when a shy voice called out his name. The tension and nervousness rushed out of his body like a large gust of air and he frantically searched for where that voice was coming from. Sure enough, in the back row Meena was waving at him and pointing to the empty desk right next to hers. Johnny ran to that desk like his life depended on it. He leapt into the seat and shot Meena a crooked smile that was filled with equal parts joy and relief. In return she gave him her dazzling smile and left him thoroughly stunned for the first few minutes of class.

The two best friends spent the rest of the class period passing funny little notes and paying very little attention to the lesson that was being taught at the front of the room. As per usual, when the two of them were together the rest of the world seemed to fade into the edges of reality. Johnny was startled from his crude drawing on the folded piece of paper when a loud bell rang through the classroom and the rest of the school.

Eagerly, the rest of the children grabbed their lunches and made a break for the door. Meena and Johnny were much slower as they grabbed their respective lunches and meandered out into the mid-afternoon sunshine. They found a cosy little spot in the shade of an oak tree and dug into their food. Johnny’s sack lunch was packed with his father’s best attempt at a sandwich, an apple, some juice, ad veggies with ranch. When it was all unpacked he snuck a glance at Meena’s lunch, only to be met with the sight of the most elaborate school lunch that he had ever seen. There was a container of fresh fruit salad, a perfect little salad, apple juice, and a tiny brownie. Johnny gaped at it for a few seconds before turning back to his own lunch so he could shove his sandwich into his mouth.

“Yer mum made an awesome lunch.” He said, his words muffled by the sandwich in his mouth. Meena turned a pleasant shade of red and took a bite of her salad.

“Actually. My grandma and I made this together.” Johnny almost choked on his sandwich when he tried to gasp. He quickly swallowed and stared at Meena like she was holding his whole world carefully in her palm.

She was amazing.

Just like the night sky comes alive

I just wanna make her my starlight,

She’s like a full moon, hot like the sun, shines a light on everyone my starlight,

Oh Oooh she’s my starlight

My starlight,

When they finished their lunches Johnny left Meena alone under the tree as he ran off to the bathroom. He was so eager to get back to his friend and start their play time that he almost forgot to wash his hands. He stopped himself before he left, washed his hands quick and then dashed back out onto the playground. He made a beeline for the oak tree and was surprised to find that Meena was surrounded by three fifth graders. At first Johnny thought that might have been friends, but the frightened look in Meena’s eyes and the way she pulled her ears in tight to her head said otherwise.

Johnny sped up his pace and watched angrily as a bear cub grabbed Meena’s brownie and stuffed it into his mouth greedily. By that time Johnny was close enough that he could hear the hurtful words that these mean kids were spouting at his best friend. The cub that ate the brownie didn’t even bother to chew before he resumed his insults.

“Fatties shouldn’t be aloud to eat brownies like that.” He grinned and Meena cowered uncertainly away from them, refusing to look them in the eyes.Johnny felt his blood start t boil with intense anger and his hurried pace changed to a light jog as his need to defend his friend intensified.

“Yeah!” A piglet chimed in as he kicked a dust cloud onto Meena’s brand new white and purple school dress. Meena coughed and rubbed her eyes as some of the dirt flew into her face. She flinched away when the third group member, a zebra dealt the final blow.

“Ugly fatties like you shouldn’t even be aloud to come to school. No one wants you here.” With that venemous comment Meena burst into mournful sobs and dirty rivulets of tears streamed down her face forcefully. The combination of all he had seen and heard drove Johnny’’s anger to a rare boiling point that burned hot with absolute fury. None of what those mean kids had said was true. Meena was the most beautiful mammal ever and Johnny wanted her at school very badly.

“SHUT UP!” With a roar of unbridled fury Johnny charged at Meena’s tormentors, his fists balled in preparation. The three mammals turned to look at him in shock but they never got the chance to run as Johnny was immediately upon them. Like a whirlwind he took down the three bully and kept hitting them until a teacher pulled him off of them and carried him like a sack of potatoes to the principal’s office. As Johnny looked back over the teacher’s shoulder he caught sight of Meena’s face as she slowly stood. Her blue eyes were filled with awe and gratefulness that made Johnny relax and stop struggling.

As long as Meena was ok he didn’t really care if he got punished.

Illuminating she’s radiating and fills the room with her smile,

Her laughs infectious, her words are precious

It’s kept me here for a while.

Johnny was grounded for two months. Or at least that’s what his parents had said in front of the glaring principal. If he thought about it, it probably wasn’t the best way to act on the first day of school but he had to defend Meena. When his father finally got the full story out of him on the car ride home, both of his parents had gone suddenly silent.

Johnny watched in anticipation as they looked at each other, seemed to agree on something and then Johnny’s mother spoke.

“Johnathan. We cannot condone you getting intoh fights at school. You are not to doh it again.” His mother gave him a stern look from the passenger seat and Johnny nodded so fast that he was afraid his head might come off of his neck, “That being said, we are glad that you did it because you were standing up for ah friend.”

And so Johnny ended up sitting on the living room couch debating whether or not his mother’s words meant that he wasn’t grounded. Before he could make a decision there was a familiar tentative knock at the front door. Johnny leapt off of the couch and raced to the door. When he wrenched it open, Meena was waiting nervously for him on the porch.

“’Ello.” Johnny said awakwardly, but before he could say anything else Meena was tackling him into a tight hug. He managed to stay upright and his cheeks grew hot as he tentatively hugged her back. His hand rubbed her back gently and Meena’s embrace tightened as she whispered in his ear.

“Thank you for rescuing me my Prince.” She whispered and then in the blink of an eye her lips were being pressed to his cheek. Johnny went rigid in shock as his young brain tried to process that fact that his best friend, the most beautiful mammal in the world, had kissed his cheek.

Before he could say anything, let alone breath, Meena pulled back from his embrace and made a mad dash for her house. Johnny just watched her disappear and then dazedly walked back into his house to lay down on the living room couch.

And so her Prince was born.

Before they knew it their childhood was disappearing behind them and Johnny and Meena were graduating high school and moving onto the next stage of their lives. The two had remained tight throughout the trials of high school, despite Johnny’s sudden cool kid status and Meena’s position among the faceless nerds. Johnny made time for her nearly everyday, effectively making her envied by every girl in school. Meena didn’t care. Johnny made her feel special, made her feel safe, and she wouldhold onto that no matter what.

They breezed through high school and ended up going to the same in-state college. The universe continued to work in their favor as they were put into the same dorm. Johnny found himself only just down the hall from his best friend and so they returned to their childhood pass times. Only this time the blanket forts came with Netflix binges, the ice cream trucks turned into late night take out, the jam sessions turned matured as did their synchronized voices, and imaginary adventures turned into campus expeditions.

Life was perfect. The only thing missing was that extra part of their relationship that they both secretly longed for. A small but equally gargantuan change that could happen if they just said three little words. But neither was sure enough to risk their perfect dynamic, so things stayed the same. And they were content.

Until a very important letter arrived at Meena’s mailbox.

She picks me uh uh up from the ground,

Whenever she’s around, whenever she’s around,

She picks me uh uh up from the groooound

And I’m never coming down.

Johnny and Meena were cuddled up in her extra large dorm bed, one of the advantages of being a larger mammal, eating ice cream and staring at the hefty packet of paperwork that would change both of their lives forever. Since Johnny had arrived in her room the only sound that could be heard was the occasional sigh and the sound of a spoon scraping up the last of the ice cream. After over an hour of close, tense silence Meena rested her head on Johnny’s chest and glared at the packet.

“Wh-what do you think my Prince?” She whispered, her voice vulnerable and watery with tears.

Johnny knew that there was only one right answer to that question. Meena had gone to the university to pursue a career in culinary arts while Johny studied business and mechanics. She had done so exceptionally in her program that the college had contacted a sister university in Furance and worked out an exchange year for Meena. The opportunity was once in a lifetime and a good way for her to developher stellar skills to another level.

But it was on another continent, away from him.

His heart was aching and screaming for him to beg her not to go, to take him with her, to stay with him always. But his brain knew that just because he loved Meena with his entire being and was afraid to lose her it was still no reason to deny her something that would only make her life better. But that didn’t make it easy.

They sat in silence for awhile longer before Johnny’s mouth started to work again and he gave her his answer, “Ya should go.”

“R-Really?!” Meena sat up and stared at him incredulously, tears beginning to gather in her eyes. It was that glint of excitement in her eyes that made Johnny’s mind up for him. He couldn’t deny her.

“Of course Meena.” He stroked her face with one hand and gave her a watery smile,

“Ya cannae let this chance pass ya by.”

Meena nodded slowly and then dove back into his embrace, her body shaking with nerves and excitement. Johnny felt his shirt wet with her tears and in response a few salty drops escaped his brown eyes.

“I’m gonna miss you Johnny.” She suddenly whispered and Johnny tightened his embrace.

“I’ll always be 'ere for ya Princess.” He whispered and for the rest of the night they just existed together, without words.

Suddenly time sped up and Johnny was standing at the entrance to the terminal with his parents and Meena’s family, watching the love of his life walk away for a year in Furance. His heart broke when the door to the gate closed and any chance of this being a cruel trick evaporated. He vaguely remembered his mother ushering him out to the car and driving him back to his dorm where he collapsed into his bed.

Suddenly everything felt empty, especially that big hole in his chest.

Just like the night sky comes alive I just wanna make her my starlight,

She’s like a full moon, hot like the sun, shines a light on everyone my starlight,

Oh Oooh she’s my starlight

My starlight,

And so the Princess left her Prince.

The year without his heart passed at a snail’s pace and Johnny found himself counting down the days until Meena came back. Sure they still MuzzleTimed every week, but it wasn’t the same as having her close to him. The only positive thing that came out of their year of separation was a new resilience in Johnny. The year without her had reminded him that he needed to make the most beautiful mammal in the world his, at all costs. She was worth it.

When the day came for Meena to fly home, Johnny arrived at the airport an hour early, so hopped up on caffeine that he was practically bouncing out of his seat. He hadn’t been able to sleep the night before, his mind was in such a whirlwind, so he had resorted to his favorite crutch, caffeine. Four cups of coffee and a ROAR energy drink later he was standing at the terminal, staring intensely at the door that ad broken his hear a year ago.

Eventually his parents and Meena’s family showed up and then they were all waiting in anticipation for their light to come back into their lives. Johnny felt her approach before he saw her, his body taught with readiness and his heart pounding like a jackhammer. just her being close did that to him.

And then she was bursting through that door, all smile and happy tears as she was all but tackled by her mother. When her mom finally let go, her grandparent swooped in and gathered up their angel, who by now was crying and smiling like if she stopped the world would end. Johnny’s breath stopped when her family released her and she caught sight of him.

There was a new twinkle in her eyes as she stepped forward and Johnny took that as his cue. He ran to her and swept her up into a hug that ended up in her being lifted off the ground and spun around ecstatically. She laughed through her blubbering tears and hugged him with such a fierceness that Johnny felt her warmth down to the very inside of his bones. Now that Meena was once more in his arms Johnny felt his growing resolve harden into a stone that sat low in his stomach and demanded to be addressed. But now wasn’t the time. For now, he was content with holding her and swearing to himself that he would never let go.

“Welcome home Princess.” He whispered brokenly and he thought he felt her heart skip a beat and heart breath shudder out of her chest. He held onto her the longest, but eventually they had to let go of each other and leave the airport. Meena took a few moments to greet Johnny’s parents, who had been watching their display patiently. As they were walking out of the terminal, Meena’s mother to her right, her grandparents to her left, and Johnny hovering wherever he could, Eloise looked up at her husband with a smirk.

“I’m telling you. That boy is gonnah marry that little girl.” Marcus just chuckled and nodded his agreement.

When love is found (when love is found)

Unchained unbound (unchained unbound)

You’ll hear the sound of your heart beat.

Won’t have to try (won’t have to try)

You’ll feel alive

You won’t believe your eyes

And so the Princess came home

A week later and Johnny was standing outside of Meena’s new dorm room, pacing and muttering to himself. His sweaty hand was clasping a bouquet of daisies and his other one was nervously mussing up his hair. Johnny cursed under his breath and once more glanced at the intimidating door. It didn’t budge.

Johnny took a couple deep breaths and attempted to convince himself that telling his best friend that he had been in love with her from the moment he laid eyes on her wasn’t scary. It was petrifying. What finally drove him to knock on the door was the tiny optimistic thought that persistently insisted that she would fall into his arms and he would have everything that he ever wanted. His hand was shaking as he knocked and he wondered if Meena had even heard the whisper of a knock.

She had.

Meena opened the door with her signature sunny smile and Johnny felt his vocal chords and heart fail simultaneously. Her baby blues lit up when she realized who was waiting outside and she gently pulled him into the room. Spread all around the room were packing boxes still filled with stuff. She was in the middle of settling back into his life, her life, and now he was about turn everything on its head.

Still unable to speak he shoved the flower’s into Meena’s hands. She didn’t seem fazed by his oddly nervous behavior, instead inhaling the flowers’ scents deeply and hugging the bouquet close to her chest.

“They’re beautiful Johnny thank you.” She said softly and Johnny as pleased to hear that her nervous stutter had all but faded away completely. There was something new, something more confident about the way that Meena held herself and acted. It was a big change from her normal behavior, but it was not unwelcome. In fact it only made Johnny love her more. She could grow, adapt, learn and that was a beautiful thing to witness. His Princess was blooming into a herself, finally accepting her curves, her shyness, her skills. She found Meena in Paris.

“Yer welcome.” He finally choked out as he watched Meena find a vase and fill it with water for her flowers. Her movements were graceful and muted as she gave her utmost attention to her task. Johnny was easily mesmerized by her, just like he always had been. She was the most beautiful mammal in the world after all. Before he could lose his courage, Johnny cleared his throat and brought her attention back to him.

“Meena. I don’t kna ‘ow ter say this…. I’ve never 'ad the bloomin’ words until na… Well I mean I kinda 'ave them. “ Johnny said haltingly, his nervous gaze leveled in Meena, who was blinking at him in confusion, her expression unreadable. Johnny’s nerves spiked but he couldn’t stop himself. The words just kept flowing out, his heart was doing the talking not his brain.

"Ya were always so good at banishin’ every thought from me head. It’s a gift and a curse at the bloomin’ same time. Ya stop me Horse and Cart, ya ’re the chuffin’ center of me thoughts, ya ’re the bleedin’ starlight guidin’ me home. Ya ‘re me everythin’ and I ‘ave loved ya since ya first stood on me doorstep.” He knew that he was rambling but his admission still drew a startled gasp and a glisten from her expressive eyes.

“This year apart was…. agony. And I decided that I needed ter at least tell ya ‘a I feel in case ya leef me again.” His voice quieted and he drew up the remnants of his usually ginormous grin, trying to lighten the situation.

“Oh Johnny.” Meena’s eyes watered and Johnny felt his heart splinter at her tone of voice. But that didn’t stop him, nothing could stop him now, especially not common sense. He could only stand there and wait for her response, heart in his hands for her to take.

“I’ve loved you too, since the moment that you gave me that little stone. I won’t leave you again. I couldn’t bear it.” She whispered and Johnny’s heart did happy little flips in his chest. She collapsed into his strong embrace and suddenly Johnny found himself kissing the most beautiful mammal in the world.

Life was perfect again.

Just like the night sky comes alive I just wanna make her my starlight,

She’s like a full moon, hot like the sun, shines a light on everyone my starlight,

Oh Oooh she’s my starlight

My starlight,

It all began with a tentative knock on the door.

#sing the movie #johnny sing #meena sing #childhood sweethearts #my starlight

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unwillingadventurer · 7 years

Text

Thank you Tim Pieraccini for sending us two of your First Doctor era (Barbara focused) ficlets for our celebratory weekend.

Here they be. Read away.

Questions But No Answers

The console room of the TARDIS was only dimly illuminated; although there was no night in the timeless vortex through which the ship travelled, we followed the rhythms of our bodies and when we slept, the ship seemed to sleep with us.

For a moment I thought I was alone. Then I saw the Doctor’s still figure hunched on one of the portable stools, leaning over the console.

I stood in the doorway, wondering if I should disturb him. His back was turned and I couldn’t tell if he was dozing or merely deep in thought. I had come to the console room in the hope of finding him, but now I was unsure exactly what I wanted to say.

Then his head twitched slightly, his hair catching the faint gleam from one of the console indicators. I scuffed my shoe on the floor to let him know I was there and began to walk towards him. He turned at once, half-rising from the stool. ‘Eh? Who’s there? Susan, is th…’ He stood straight upright, his head turning away suddenly.

I could guess what was going through his mind. Susan had only recently left us, and it would be some time before he got used to her absence. ‘It’s me, Doctor. Barbara.’

He stepped up to the console. ‘Well, of course it is. What do you think I…’ He let the words trail off

And bent his head to the console, apparently concentrating intently on one of the readouts. I hesitated, considering retreat.

‘Can’t sleep, hmn?’ said the Doctor, breaking our awkward silence. ‘Do you want something from the medical cabinet?’

‘No. No, thank you.’ I stepped closer to him. He raised his eyes to mine, blinking hard. His hand fished for the handkerchief he carried in his top pocket, but after a brief tug at the material he let his hand fall. ‘Well?’

I frowned. ‘I’m sorry..?’

‘You came in here with something on your mind. What is it, then? Spit it out child, spit it out.’

‘Um…’ My mind was blank for a moment. ‘I don’t really know quite…how to put this…’

‘As simply as possible. You can always qualify it later, if you feel the need.’

‘Yes…’ Still I held back. I looked down at the console, conscious of his keen gaze. I couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Doctor, do you…do you believe in God? In a God?’

‘Do you?’

I looked at him, meaning to chide him for evasiveness, but he wagged a finger at me. ‘I can hardly answer a question like that until I know the position from which it is asked – now can I?’

‘I…suppose not.’

‘Well?’

‘I think…no. I was brought up to believe but now…now I don’t think I can.’ I faced him for a moment before turning away. ‘Even…even before all this,’ I gestured vaguely around me, ‘I had doubts. But now, after all the cruelty, the killing I’ve seen…I can’t believe a benevolent creator would allow such things.’

‘Does a god have to be benevolent?’

‘There’s a different name for one who isn’t.’

‘Mmn.’ He put his head slightly on one side. ‘It’s interesting, isn’t it, that on your world the belief in a real devil faded much more rapidly than belief in God. Perhaps…perhaps the majority of people do not see the universe in quite such dark tones as you do.’

‘The majority of people haven’t seen what I’ve seen.’

‘Indeed no!’ He stepped up to my side, his finger jabbing at me in the air again. ‘The splendour and variety of the worlds you have seen are known only to a privileged few. Even among my people, your experiences would be accounted remarkable.’

‘Are you saying I should be grateful to have been terrorised by the Daleks? Or the Voord? Or to have witnessed the barbarism of the Aztecs’ blood sacrifices?’

‘Why not? Alongside the things you mention we have encountered the nobility of the Thals, the gentleness of the Sensorites, the wisdom of Autloc, the courage of Arbitan…need I continue?’

‘All right.’ I leaned on the console, closing my eyes. ‘I know what you’re saying. Everywhere, there’s a spirited resistance to evil, a struggle to make life better – but in the end, what does any of it achieve? Arbitan is dead, many of the Thals died…everyone dies.’

The Doctor’s hand came to rest on my sleeve. I looked at him. ‘So,’ he challenged me, putting his head back, ‘death is the problem, is it? You feel that eternal life might resolve some of your doubts?’

‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘No, of course not. I’ve thought about that. I can’t conceive of anything worse than going on forever. But…but…’ I was seeking desperately for words to express the gnawing inside me. ‘What is it all for? We live for seventy, eighty years – for what? Just to die?’

He was silent for a moment. Then he turned away. ‘And if there were a God, as your people have conceived Him, how do you think He would answer such a question?’

I stared at his back, not knowing what to say. ‘I…’

‘After all, what does God exist for? How does an eternal being see eternity?’ He turned back to me. ‘How can we hope to imagine the mind of such an entity? Purpose? Meaning? How would you define those words in order to make them comprehensible to a creature that might span infinity?’

‘And perhaps…perhaps words like suffering and misery might also have little meaning?’ I suggested a trifle sourly.

‘Perhaps. You see, you must ask yourself how these questions would sound to the being you intend to put them to – and how the answers might sound to you.’

‘I see what you mean. There might be no common frames of reference.’

‘Exactly! For example, for example…what questions do you imagine an ant would ask you? The level of intelligence, not to mention the scale, is so different – consider trying to explain something as simple as a pair of scissors. It is doubtful the ant would even see you as another living creature – if an ant could grasp the concept of living.’ His hand rested on my sleeve again. ‘If there is a guiding intelligence behind the universe, you and I are in no position to interrogate it.’

‘So we should just accept? Just—’

‘Some things, certainly.’ He smiled slightly. ‘Like the fact that it is very late, and we are both too tired to think clearly.’

I didn’t respond at once. There were still so many things I wanted to ask. He saw my hesitation and turned me slightly so I was facing him. ‘I have no answers for you, my dear. As I have tried to point out, there may be no answers that have any meaning for you and me. You witness suffering and cruelty and you wish to make sense of what you see. That may not be possible. Not in this lifetime. But,’ he raised his finger again, ‘there are things we can do, each of us, every day. Better to concentrate on those. Don’t waste your time looking for answers you can never hope to find.’

‘I can’t just live blindly from day to day, Doctor. It isn’t enough.’

‘ “Blindly”? Who said anything about not looking where you’re going?’ He patted my arm. ‘It is good to know your destination – even if it is only in the short term. But don’t let that prevent you from enjoying the journey.’

End.

Homecoming

It was not what I had imagined.

Something was wrong and I could not define what it was. Everything around me was familiar and welcome – and at the same time alien and subtly terrifying. It was my world, my home – and it was not.

I had not imagined it was possible for a place to change so much in such a short time. I had expected superficial developments, and I had quickly found them; Churchill and Nehru were dead – Kennedy too, to judge from the snippets of news I had caught – the Beatles had become an international phenomenon, something rather disturbing was happening in Vietnam, and London was now the centre of what seemed to be a kind of cultural revolution.

And the day before Ian and I had returned, a man had walked in space. That had made me smile, but at the same time something cold had clutched at my heart. I had seen the earth in the future, desolate and overrun by Daleks. Had we drawn attention to themselves by our attempts to conquer space?

Thinking about that had made me realise what had changed. It was not really the planet itself; it was something in me, the way I saw my home. It no longer seemed safe. Two years ago my imagination had been earthbound, limited to this one world, the past I knew and the future that had seemed to promise steady progress and improvement of the human lot. Now nothing seemed certain. Earth was one of so many planets, humankind one of an uncountable number of races. The unfolding story of history, once a source of wonder and inspiration to me, now seemed a fragile thread in the weave of the universe, in danger of being snapped by violent extra-terrestrial invasion or cosmic disaster. Who could tell what the future would bring? Humanity was not the favoured child of the universe, the sole source of intelligence and invention. To the Daleks and Mechanoids humans were potential slaves or nuisances to be crushed; to races like the Moroks we were simply a curiosity, museum exhibits.

And where did I fit into this picture? Who was Barbara Wright? What was I to do, knowing what I knew? After all that I had seen and experienced, the dangers I had faced, the obstacles and terrors I had overcome, could I slip quietly back into the life that I had been living? How was that possible? How could I simply forget?

As far as I could tell, Ian was untroubled by such thoughts. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the sights and sounds of London – as I had when we had first returned. Now I felt isolated, unable to express my fears and doubts even to the one person I had thought would understand.

Ian was sitting back in the upholstered seat, staring around the pub with a kind of quiet joy. He felt my eyes on him and inclined his head, his eyes sparkling and the familiar, easy smile coming to his lips. ‘What a sombre face!’

‘Sorry.’ I took refuge behind my glass, gulping the bitter liquid almost frantically. When I put the glass down with a thump, Ian was still watching me.

‘What is it?’

‘It...nothing.’ I tried to smile, but my lips felt tight and awkward.

‘Come on.’ He slid closer, his arm curving around my shoulders. ‘If you can't tell me, who can you tell?’

My back stiffened at his touch; I was not certain why. Perhaps it was the slightly patronising note in his voice. He felt me tense, and almost drew back. Then his arm settled and his free hand came to rest on mine as I gripped my glass. ‘What's wrong?’

‘I...I don't know. I'm not sure.’

‘Well...’ He struggled for a moment, trying to find something to say. ‘We're home, Barbara. Earth. After so long, after all those dangers, all that yearning and hoping...we're back.’

I bit back a sarcastic reply. I felt his eyes on my face, but I could not look at him.

‘Are you missing the Doctor and Vicki?’

That was not it at all. ‘Yes. A bit.’

‘That's only natural. I do, too, of course. But we made a decision, the only decision we could possibly make. You're not regretting it?’

‘Of course not.’ But the words, as I said them, were flat and meaningless.

‘Then what is it?’

I desperately wished he would let me go. Something about his physical proximity made me feel like screaming. He did not understand, and there was no evidence he ever would. I needed space to think, to breathe; I needed to feel free.

‘Barbara...’

I suppressed a whimper of desperation. ‘Can we go?’ I said. ‘I want to walk.’

He drew back. ‘Okay. Um...how about St James's Park?’

‘Yes. Fine.’ I stood up quickly, snatching up my cheap jacket and almost pushing past Ian in my haste to get out into the open.

Once outside I paused and pulled on the jacket, turning up the collar against the lightly spitting rain. Ian came through the doors with a degree of caution, watching me carefully.

‘Are you ill or something? Did you feel sick?’

‘A bit.’ I began to walk, not waiting for him to come up beside me. He hurried to catch up. We walked for some moments in silence. It was early evening; the sun was still spraying light over the London skyline, and the traffic was quite heavy. We stopped at the kerb and Ian put a hand on my arm.

‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

I closed my eyes for a moment, wondering if I had the strength to make him understand. ‘It's... everything.’

He gestured helplessly. ‘What do you mean, “everything”?’

We were clear to cross, and I darted away, swallowing as my throat swelled with a sob. He came after me, catching me at the other side. He spun me to face him.

‘Barbara! Talk to me. What is it?’

I looked into his uncomprehending eyes for a few moments. Then my own eyes dropped. ‘What are we going to do, Ian?’

‘I don't know what you mean.’ He shook me. ‘Look! Look around you! We made it! Home! Where we wanted to be!’

‘Are we?’

‘What do you mean? Barbara, I can't—’

‘We're two years late! I know, I know we said it didn't matter, but have you thought about what it means? We've used almost all the money the Doctor gave us just eating and finding a place to stay. We can't just walk into our old jobs – can you see any education authority letting either of us teach after an unexplained absence like this? And what are we going to tell our families? Surely not the truth!’

My voice had risen; several passers-by glanced in our direction. Ian looked around and then drew me quickly to a bench. He pushed me gently into a sitting position and then sat facing me. His expression was completely serious for the first time since we had returned.

‘I have thought about it. We knew it wouldn't all be plain sailing. But...surely the important thing is that we're here. We made it. And after all we've been through, are we really going to be daunted by education authorities and a few awkward family conversations?’

‘But what are we going to tell them?’

There was a tiny smile on his lips. ‘I wonder if the most plausible story might be that we eloped.’

‘No.’ The word escaped before I could stop it.

He appeared slightly startled, but not hurt. ‘Then we'll have to come up with something else. But it won't be easy.’

‘We could pretend our disappearances were unconnected—’

‘No. Gone the same night, back at the same time? Our families are bound to have been in touch with each other – and, if we didn't disappear together, we'll have no reason to see each other now we're back.’ He paused. ‘Unless that's what you want.’

‘No. Of course not.’ I had no idea what I wanted. I looked away from him, squeezing my eyes shut against the tears that came from nowhere.

‘Hey...’ His hand came to rest against my shoulder. ‘It'll be all right.’

I nodded briefly, drawing in a deep breath. ‘As you say, after all we've been through, it does seem ridiculous to be defeated by the resumption of our normal lives.’

‘That's right.’ He patted my shoulder and stood up. ‘I think the rain's getting heavier. We should give the park a miss – get back to the room.’

‘All right.’ I got to my feet, and allowed him to link his arm through mine. The rain fell, the traffic roared, the sky darkened slowly - and none of it seemed real to me as we walked through the familiar streets of what had once been home.

#one era family weekend #ficlets #great stuffs

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jonghyundroppedthesoap · 7 years

Text

My Number One Fan

Chapter 2 Pairing: JongKey Word Count: 3,162 Summary: Kibum goes to the same, run-down bar every week to watch the man of his affections sing his heart out with a mere guitar for company. He wasn’t expecting the coffee, nor the beautiful personality within the singer. And he definitely wasn’t expecting to fall in love.

A/N: originally posted on @ourshineeshrine

Kibum gulped thickly, scuffing his shoes against the soft carpet beneath his feet as he kept his face hidden from the disappointed glares on his parent’s faces. He scolded himself internally yet again at his ignorance of the time, however his guilt didn’t seem too overwhelming with the thought of Jonghyun resting at the front of his mind. He had been reckless, and he knew that. However thoughts of Jonghyun had been plaguing his mind for weeks, and he would’ve regretted it deeply had he ignored the opportunity to stay and talk with the older male. He was beyond glad he had done so as well, because now he was on cloud nine despite the current circumstances and had even scored a coffee date with the gorgeous man. Thinking too deeply about the present situation, Kibum was knocked out of his reverie by the harsh, disappointed tone of his father.

“Kim Kibum, how dare you leave this house without our permission? Do you know what could’ve happened to you, young man?” he began scoldingly, Kibum having no other desire at that moment than to run and hide beneath the thick blankets on his bed.

The student remained silent, having no want to worsen their mood, and opted for nodding his head gently beneath the shield of his fringe.

“Do you think that when we leave the house, that’s an express invitation for you to do the same? Where were you, Kibum?” continued Kibum’s mother, a softer tone to her voice as she reprimanded the boy.

“I-I was at Amber’s house,” he lied smoothly, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he awaited their reply.

“And why on earth were you at her house to begin with? At this time of night, no less!”

“We were doing a project. A, um…group project for school.” Kibum responded, mustering as much confidence as he could into his voice so that they would believe the made up tale.

He heard his father sigh loudly, and could only imagine his mother rolling her eyes exhaustedly at his reply. Kibum crossed his fingers behind his back, the silence in the room thickening as each second ticked by on the clock leisurely.

“Alright, Kibum. Just please…tell us next time before you do something like that. We worry, you know?” spoke his mother gently, unknowingly provoking Kibum to breathe a huge sigh of relief.

“Thanks umma, appa; I won’t do it again. I’m a little tired so I’m going to go to bed…good night. Sleep well,” Kibum stated, nodding softly to the two of them before trudging his way upstairs and into his small, yet cosy bedroom.

Changing into his pyjamas which consisted of a tight, black tank top and pink, flannelette pants, Kibum then brushed his teeth and washed his face, doing so with a consistent smile beaming on his face. Despite the small scolding from his parents, and the fact that he had to lie to avoid serious trouble, Kibum was still giddy inside, the events from that night swimming in his mind and forming butterflies in his stomach. Finally sliding under the covers of his bed, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts drift elsewhere, tossing and turning in anticipation for the days to come. It was with the thoughts of coffee dates, handsome singers and couple selcas that Kibum finally drifted off, an unsettled excitement floating within him throughout all of his (satisfying) dreams.

Despite the fact that many stories convey waking up as a beautiful moment with sunlight peaking in through the curtains and fluttering eyelashes, Kibum’s awakening was quite the contrary. The calming silence in the room was disturbed only by Kibum’s light snoring, a peaceful atmosphere filling the room as the boy in question slept peacefully. The silence wasn’t to last much longer however, a loud ringing sound appearing out of nowhere and surprising the occupant of the soft, double bed. Grumbling angrily into his pillow, Kibum blindly reached out for his phone and disabled the aggravating alarm, rolling over and burying himself beneath the blankets.

“I forgot all about school,” he whined to himself hopelessly, all of a sudden pushing all of his blankets off whilst sporting an angry glare.

Practically falling out of his bed, Kibum stumbled over to his wardrobe and opened it with a new found determination in his eyes. He browsed through all of the clothing in his closet, being particularly picky with what he chose to wear. 10 minutes later, he had a fashionable outfit chosen out and a designer pair of shoes to go with it.

He trudged to the bathroom and turned the knobs of the shower, adjusting it to the perfect heat. Shedding his pyjamas, he hopped in and let the hot water fall on his back, releasing all of his built up tension and awakening him fully. He washed thoroughly with his favourite strawberry body wash, and shampooed his hair with the matching product. Brushing his teeth in the shower to save time, Kibum stood under the shower head for an additional five minutes before turning it off and wrapping a towel around his waist. He dried himself of each and every droplet before changing into his chosen outfit, spending another fifteen minutes adjusting his hair and gelling it into place.

Grabbing his school bag and a piece of toast on the way out, Kibum began the trek to school, still not having gone for his driver’s license. As he scuffed his feet along the sidewalk, he suddenly remembered yesterday’s events and stopped dead in his tracks. He blinked a few times before hurriedly fishing his phone out of his pocket. Scrolling impatiently through his contacts to letter ‘J’, he frowned at the absence of Jonghyun’s name. Kibum bit his lip worriedly, scrolling back up slowly through to the top just to make sure Jonghyun hadn’t made a mistake. The hope in Kibum’s heart was slowly fading away as he reached ‘A’, but all of a sudden his breath hitched in his throat at the newly saved contact.

‘❤ Jonghyun’

So it hadn’t been a dream. Kibum breathed a sigh of relief he didn’t even realise he had been holding before a huge smile spread over his face and a light crimson brushed his cheeks. He practically skipped the rest of the way to school, feeling too happy inside to care about what anybody else was thinking. He eventually reached the school gates and changed his demeanour immediately, walking inside casually as he suppressed his excitement.

He strolled through the hallway with his head down, reaching his locker and shoving his bag inside. He pulled out his textbooks for first period, closing it gently and making his way to homeroom despite the fact that he was twenty minutes early. He was met with an empty classroom bar his best friend Amber, who was carelessly roaming through the (usually locked) teacher’s drawer.

“Hey, Amber!” greeted Key warmly, dumping his books on his desk and shooting Amber a curious look.

“’Sup, Kibum.” replied Amber nonchalantly, giving her hand a wave as she continued her browsing.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked with a laugh, raising an eyebrow as he made his way over to her.

“I’m looking for my god damn phone. That bitch of a teacher took it for no reason yesterday,” replied Amber angrily, not shooting Kibum a second glance as she rummaged through the contents with haste.

“She probably took it because you were texting in class, but I mean, whatever suits you, I suppose.” commented Kibum, an amused smirk appearing on his face as he sat himself on the teacher’s desk.

“How’d you get the key, anyhow?”

“I got my friend Ailee to get a copy of it for me…she’s the year level representative so it wasn’t too hard.” responded Amber, cheering silently as she plucked her phone from the depths of the drawer.

“But my God, how much shit does she have in here? A hoarder, I reckon.” she added, shoving her phone in her pocket and locking the drawer once again.

“Anyway…how are you, Kibum?”

“Really good, to be honest…Oh by the way, if my parents ask, I was at your house last night doing a group project,” answered Kibum, avoiding eye contact shyly at the knowing look Amber was giving him.

“Kibum, the party animal? What on earth were you up to, really?” chuckled Amber, smirking mischievously as she raised an eyebrow in the male’s direction.

“Oh you know…Just at a local bar,” shrugged Kibum offhandedly, cowering at the shocked look on Amber’s face.

“A bar?! Kibum…you haven’t been drinking yourself silly, have you?” she exclaimed, a look of concern masking her features.

“Wha- God no! Of course not! I’ve just been watching some live performances, is all…” defended Kibum, waving his hands in front of his face with a look of horror upon his face.

“Oh…well that’s cool I guess. Better than doing drugs.” nodded Amber with a shrug, head turning to the classroom door as a group of students walked inside.

“Damn, class is starting soon…” mumbled Kibum, sliding off the desk and slipping into his own seat, Amber right in tow.

One by one, their classmates began to file into the room, taking their seats with a yawn as they chatted eagerly with the friends whom they hadn’t seen all weekend. Kibum made small talk with Amber, who happened to sit next to him, as he sorted out his desk ready for the first class of the day.

Homeroom went by without incident, as did English, and before he knew it Kibum was heading out to lunch with his cafeteria food safely in his grasp. Amber usually ate with her other friends at lunch, being quite the social bug and conversing with almost every student in the school. Kibum didn’t mind eating alone every lunchtime, as it gave him time to think by himself and just relax; however sometimes he missed the company and wished he had at least one person to talk to as he ate.

Unfortunately, despite Kibum’s confidence and friendly nature, he wasn’t very popular among the other students as he often kept to himself and was discriminated against because of his flamboyant nature. It was a known fact throughout the school that Kibum was very feminine, and because of that, people automatically assumed he was gay. Not to say Kibum wasn’t gay, because he very much was; but that didn’t mean he wanted his fellow friends, family and peers knowing about it. Kibum wasn’t ashamed of himself. Nor was he afraid to show his true personality. But Kibum knew that if people were to find out, they would judge him, only seeing him as ‘the gay boy’ who went to Jawoon High School. Not Kibum, the 19-year-old boy who studied hard and loved to dance.

The student walked silently to the dance studio, opening the door softly and slinking inside with ease. He sat himself away from the mirror, not wanting his loneliness to be rubbed in his face as he ate his lunch in solitude. Taking the chicken wrap out of his lunch bag, Kibum took a large, first bite, chewing softly as he retrieved his phone from his pocket. Turning it on and opening his contacts, Kibum smiled softly as his eyes landed on Jonghyun’s name, ironically the first one on the list. He contemplated texting the older male now instead of after school, however just as he was about to make his decision, a voice from behind caused his heart to just about jump out of his chest.

“Jonghyun, huh? Doesn’t sound like someone who goes to our school,” spoke the voice, Kibum whipping his head around quickly like a deer caught in headlights.

“T-Taemin? What are you doing here?” stuttered Key nervously, holding his wrap tightly and standing up in a flash.

“I came here to practice my dance routine…but I see it’s already occupied.”

“You know I always hang out here at lunch…why aren’t you with your friend, Kai, or whatever?” questioned Kibum, hastily shoving his phone back into his pocket before shooting the younger boy a glare.

“He’s hanging out with his new friend, Kyungsoo. But I really don’t see how that’s any of your concern.” responded Taemin, raising a slight eyebrow at Kibum as he strolled towards the stereo.

“Can’t you hang out somewhere else? Like, the tennis courts? Or the oval?”

“That eager to get rid of me, are we? Just so you know, it’s none of your business where I hang out. There’s plenty of room for both of us.” argued Taemin, pressing play on the stereo and adjusting the volume so it blasted out loudly.

Kibum exhaled angrily and crossed his arms over his chest. All he had wanted to do that lunch was eat his lunch in solitude and perhaps text Jonghyun whilst he was at it. Taemin however, seemed to have other plans.

It wasn’t as if he hated the younger boy; he barely knew him, after all. However, last year Kibum had been the only male dancer at their school and could often use the dance studio without interruption, freely breaking out into all kinds of moves without the worry of being caught. But now, ever since Taemin had become a first year, Kibum could barely use the room alone anymore as the younger seemed to be practicing there at every moment possible. And if that wasn’t enough to hurt Kibum’s pride, the fact that Taemin was a better dancer than him certainly was. Kibum wasn’t the jealous type, and even acknowledged the fact that the Taemin was certainly very talented for his age; however it was the boy’s personality that angered him the most.

Taemin wasn’t a bully, and he definitely wasn’t mean to anybody. He didn’t bring any harm to the other students (or anyone for that matter), and he studied hard like everybody else. No… it was the cockiness in which Taemin possessed that got to Kibum, riling the older boy up every single time they interacted. The freshman knew very well he was a superior dancer to Kibum, and didn’t hide that fact very well at all, often making small remarks about their skill differences or acting as if he owned the place.

“I guess I’ll have to eat elsewhere then…” resigned Kibum with a sigh, trudging out of the dance room without taking a second glance back at Taemin.

If by chance, Kibum had looked back at the younger before he left, he would’ve noticed a mask of worry on the boy’s face as he watched Kibum open the door and leave.

Kibum chewed on his wrap half-heartedly as he made his way towards the oval, screwing his face up in distaste as he laid eyes on the many students chatting away merrily with their friends. Reaching a shady, secluded spot under a tree, Kibum plopped himself down gloomily, attempting to avoid the pitying and disgusted looks upon his classmates’ faces.

After what seemed like forever, the bell concluding lunch finally rang, and Kibum couldn’t be happier to leave the oval and head back to class where he wasn’t required to talk to anyone.

Maths and History went by like a breeze, and Kibum couldn’t hold in his excited grin as the end of day bell rang. The students hurriedly packed their things away and bustled out of the classroom with drained smiles on their faces, relieved for the day to finally be over so that they could hang out with friends and just relax. Kibum wasn’t to be excluded from this group of people, as he was equally as eager to get out of there and text Jonghyun (whom had been on his mind all day). He hustled towards his locker and shoved his books inside hastily, slinging his bag over his blazer-clad shoulder before leaving the school with impatience.

Jonghyun checked his phone for the umpteenth time that day, frowning at the lack of messages he had received. He had been waiting impatiently all day for Kibum to message him, and was beginning to worry that the younger boy had forgotten all about him. Burying his face into his hands, Jonghyun rubbed his eyes tiredly, not having been able to sleep the night before. His mind had been plagued with thoughts of Kibum until the wee hours of the morning- the boy’s beautiful face, his cute laugh, his cat-like eyes and his soothing voice. But most of all, the boy’s personality had resided in his head. His shy gazes, the unique humour he possessed, his infuriating lip bites and most especially his inner diva which had only appeared briefly throughout their conversation.

“Jonghyun-ah…why do you look so down?” spoke the concerned voice of his sister, causing Jonghyun to jump in surprise at the sudden company.

“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry,” he replied casually, checking his phone once again only to sigh in disappointment.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Jonghyun. There’s something on your mind. Could it be…a girl?”

Oh that’s right, Jonghyun was reminded harshly. He still hadn’t come out to his family. Yet another problem in his life he had to deal with eventually.

“Something like that, Seodam...” he mumbled, gaze flickering to her for a second before it returned back down to his phone.

“What on your phone could be so important that you’re ignoring me, huh?” she questioned mischievously, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest knowingly.

“I’m just waiting for a text. That’s all, noona.” replied Jonghyun flatly, grumbling incoherently before lying flat on the couch and throwing his phone across the room onto the other sofa.

“Wah! That’s expensive, Jonghyun-ah…” commented Seodam disapprovingly, furrowing her brows as she made her way over to the couch.

Leaning over the arm rest, Seodam’s eyes widened before a cheeky smirk made its way onto her face.

“Ahem. ‘Jonghyun-ssi! I’m sorry I’m just messaging now; I had to attend school first. I had so much fun yesterday, thank you for driving me home! Are you still on for our coffee date?’” imitated Seodam in a particularly girly voice, Jonghyun sitting up immediately as she read the text message aloud.

“’Your biggest fan…Kibum?’” she finished, tilting her head to the side in confusion. “But Jonghyun…Kibum is a boy’s name.”

Jonghyun practically dashed across to Seodam, ripping the phone from her grasp frantically.

“You think I don’t know that?” he retorted, eyes unknowingly lighting up in joy as he read over the message himself.

“Jonghyun, you’re gay?!” she exclaimed, hand coming up to slap over her mouth in surprise.

“Wha- No! Don’t talk so loud, you idiot!”

“So you are?”

Jonghyun sighed in annoyance and gave his sister the best glare he could muster. He trudged over to the couch once again and practically fell onto it, burying his face into the pillow.

“No…” he grumbled, “Kibum just happens to be a very pretty boy.”

#jongkey #chaptered #romance #drama #high school au #fanfic #mnof #2

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mayoperry-blog · 7 years

Text

The Diner

A short story I wrote for creative writing 1 in freshman year, I believe. The story was based off of flash fiction, but there were no restrictions on the piece other than a word limit. Again, because of tumblr’s format, all spacing and correct format for dialogue and paragraphs has gone askew.

The Diner I pulled up to the parking spot and killed the engine but didn’t exit the car. The stench from the car was soaked into my clothes and hung around me like a cloud. I turned off the radio and leaned my forehead on the steering wheel. Country music wafted out of my car and into the lot and my eyes closed for a minute. “I’m here. R U?” My phone screen read. I pulled my sunglasses from atop my curls and placed them on nose and picked up my jacket. I stepped out onto the pavement and started the trek from the end of the parking lot to the restaurant entrance. As I walked, I scoffed at the sign in front of the door trying to attract customers that had faded years ago and was not readable. I removed my sunglasses and hooked them in my white t-shirt pocket that was all too bright for the grimy parking lot. I kicked a soda can with the toe of my boot and entered the diner. Dirtied windows looked out into an even dirtier parking lot and the glass panel that separated the diner from the rest of the world hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned in years. Booths were crammed along the walls with the material of every seat worn and cracked. Seat stuffing and bent springs were poking through the surface and the blue grey linoleum floor oddly complimented the wallpaper peeling off of the panel. Sunlight reflected off of the divots in the tables and the light fixtures. Rusty hinges rendered dying doors almost unusable and the kitchen sink was piled high with dishes. I locked eyes with Christopher as he motioned for me to join him. I settled into the booth and laid my jacket across my lap, finally looking at him. “How are you?” I asked. “I’m fine. Menu?” Christopher held out the pamphlet. I took the leaflet and scanned my options and settled on a sandwich. Christopher’s shirt cuffs were buttoned and he toyed with them in his hand as he looked at me over the table shining in the electric light. The people of the diner must have known a nice tip was coming in his arrival in his nice shoes and neatly pressed shirt—all nicer and neater than this diner put together. His shoes were new which I noticed and they tapped against the root of the table, but he made sure they didn’t get scuffed. His hair was cut and shone under the bright light. It seemed less perfect than it did under the natural light outside, and his teeth didn’t shine as he smiled like they might outside. This diner took away the color from the people and everything seemed duller and more desperate. His crisp blazer draped across the back of the booth was out of place and was easily more expensive than the table before him. Christopher poked at his French Onion soup, stirring the dish and avoiding eye contact. “What’s wrong?” I said. “You’re quiet. And your fists are clenched.” I pointed out. “What? Oh.” Christopher massaged his hands while looking up at me. “Why is it like this? The same thing every time we need to meet.” He put his spoon down on the saucer beside him, giving off a clang from the metal hitting porcelain. “You’ve never complained, so what’s changed? I think this place is fine, and it’s not to far from my work.” I spoke slowly like I was talking to a child. “Then why are we here, and not closer to the city? I-“ “You know why we’re here. This is what I can afford.” “I told you, I’ll pay for you. Splitting the check always complicated.” “Not this again. I will pay for myself. I can do it.” “We’re so far from everything, and frankly, I’m tired of soup every week.” “Then order something else.” I retorted. I looked him square in the eyes before taking a sip of my soda. I sighed and continued. “Why are we meeting again? Who died?” “I just wanted to check up on you, is that wrong?” Christopher countered. He reached into his bag and started sifting through papers. I nodded my head. “I’ll be back.” I said curtly before sliding out of the booth. Christopher kept his head down, not bothering to ask where I was going. I grabbed my jacket and put it on before heading towards the back exit of the restaurant. I leaned against the brick building and pulled a stray cigarette and a lighter out of my jacket. The bricks had been heating in the sun and were warming my back as I put the cigarette in between my teeth and tried to ignite the dying lighter. I puffed on the cigarette and reveled in the calming feeling of the smoke filling my lungs. I let out another mouthful of smoke and watched as the wind carried away the cloud instead of leaving it to hang over me. Picking up a stone, I weighed it in my hand before hurling it across the abandoned back lot. “You’re killing yourself. I always tell you to stop.” Christopher says when he sees burned out butt in between my fingers. “They literally suck the life out of you.” “Jesus, you scared me.” I told him as I snuffed out the cigarette on the wall. “And who cares what you think?” “I care.” He snatched the butt from my hand and threw it on the ground and then proceeded to dust off his hands like he had dirt on his palms. “I’ve told you. This is how it started for him, too.” “Oh stop it. You know I’m not like him, Chris.” I scoffed and popped a stick of gum in my mouth. I tossed the silver wrapper into a patch of sunlight on the ground and continued. “Is that what this is about? I thought we were done with that!” “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Matty.” I looked at my younger brother in disbelief before pushing my way past him and re-entering the diner. I ran my hands along the walls of the hall as I walked back in doors. I stopped to admire a photograph on the wall of a waiter holding a pitcher in an attempt to ignore my brother. Christopher followed closely and tried to reason with me. “You were blind to everything, but I saw it!” “What did you see Christopher?” I asked him sarcastically. I already knew every detail to the speech that I had heard for years. “Him! Going downhill! And I saw you, growing up without direction! You can’t turn out like him!” I sat down in the booth and picked up my sandwich and took a bite. “Have you seen him recently, Chris?” I asked as ham scraps fell out of my mouth. “He showed up to my house a while ago. Asked for a second chance, he wanted to meet my kids. He said he wanted to catch up, a whole bunch of bullshit if you ask me. He then asked me for money. The nerve.” “Why didn’t he ask me? He’s visited me before, never asked me for money.” I leaned in towards my younger brother and waited for his answer. “You know why, Matty.” Christopher sighed and rolled up the sleeves of his all too fancy button-down. “Do I? Christopher?” I challenged him. “Do I know why he asks you and not me?” “It’s because you have no money! You’re barely scraping by with your studio that’s falling apart in your hands! Your income is based off of late shifts at Gelson’s and handyman jobs from Craigslist! That jacket is 12 years old and you only come here because it’s the only food that you can afford that doesn’t come from a drive in, served to you by a high schooler who has a piggybank on his desk holding more money than your bank account, Matthew!” Christopher shouted. I stood up and walked over to Christopher and glared at him, but he kept yelling. “He came to me, Matty! He came to me because he knows that, with me, he has a shot at getting some real cash! He wants to hold a check in his hand, not a roll of quarters!”  I reached out and punched my brother in the face. Christopher looked at me in shock and reached up to feel his nose, which was bleeding at the bridge. He stood up and roughly pushed me back. I stumbled into a metal chair before righting myself. Christopher stepped out into the open center of the diner, drawing even more attention to us. He stood in a sun spot, lighting up my brother like a god. I pulled off my jacket and tossed it back to the table and walked towards my brother. “He went to you, only because he thinks he still has a chance! He thinks he hasn’t messed up with you yet!” I growled. I ran my fingers through my hair in anger. “He’s screwed with both of us, only you’ve never been able to deal with the fact that he is gone.” Christopher spat. “I moved on! I knew he wasn’t coming back! I knew that the only father figure I’d have was going to be my slacker older brother who couldn’t even maintain straight Cs in his sophomore year of high school!” I shook my head to myself slowly before turning on my heel and kicking over a aluminum chair. Christopher laughed to himself and leisurely walked over to the diner counter and leaned against the cold metal surface. I took a quick glance around the room and finally noticed all the people watching the family feud that was nothing close to the television show. Christopher looked at me again, but only this time his eyes weren’t as bright, his smirk had been wiped off his face. “Why do you defend him?” Christopher chuckled. “You didn’t see him. You were too caught up in the novelty of high school, and the memories of dad that you didn’t see it. You only saw the family portraits, not the cracked frame that held the photograph. You only saw Christmas presents being handed out, not the gifts wrapped in old newspaper, instead of papers adorned with red nosed reindeer and striped candy canes!” Christopher grabbed my elbow and held it while his voice bounced off of the walls of the diner. “The only family photo I remember is the one with a tear down the middle! The gifts I remember are cheap toys handed to me in a stained paper bag in passing! You remember sitting in the shot gun seat of that god awful Range Rover, but the only thing I remember sitting in the passenger seat was a box crammed with belongings as he drove off!” “Chris, you’re exaggerating it! This is all in your head, it’s-” “Stop defending him, Matty!” Christopher smashed his fist into the table that he stood by and then slumped into a chair, defeated. I looked up from my crunched position, leaning over the back of a chair. I made eye contact with my brother, our cold lunches forgotten. By now, the diner had started to move again. Women with messy buns and lipstick bustled about, taking orders and talking in overly sweet southern accents through clenched teeth. The sun had set and the restaurant was half empty. Sounds of clanking dishes and muted shouts of “Order up!” were wafting through the rusty doors of the kitchen. I motioned for my brother to sit with me and put the fight in the past. Christopher was hesitant but soon joined me in the booth to finish our lunch. He straightened his tie and brushed off the seat before sitting down. We sat and ate in silence and listened to the wind pick up outside that rattled the thin windows of the diner. “You know, I’m not mad anymore. He’s gone.” I said while I pushed my sandwich pieces around my plate. Christopher nodded at me and raised his cup in agreement. We sat in silence for a while. “I’m done, are you?” Christopher tossed some dollar bills on the table and stood up. “Let’s go.” I stood up and put on my jacket. Christopher took a final sip of his drink and turned towards the door. Suddenly, a man put his hand on Christopher’s shoulder. Christopher turned to face the man and see what he wanted. “Christopher?” The man asked. I took a small step closer to my younger brother as he addressed the man who had touched him. The man wore a sweater that was two sizes too big and ridden with stains. His jeans were ripped in more places than one and his shoes were holding together by a thread. The only out of place thing in the diner infested with dirt was the young child in the man’s arms. She couldn’t have been older than two by the looks of her chubby cheeks and pigtails in her hair. “How do you know my name…Sir?” Christopher said and took a step backwards. “Do you not recognize your own father, boys?” The man asked with a hopeful smile. Christopher reached out and grabbed my elbow and squeezed it with all his strength. I tensed and my breath sped up. I stepped in front of my younger brother and looked down on the man that used to be my father. “Norman.” I addressed him. I tried to even my breath, but failed. “How did you find us?” “I saw you here when you pulled up.” He confessed. “I live around here.” “You found a home?” Christopher asked with a raised eyebrow. “I live around here. In the homeless shelter down the street.” My jaw dropped. The man I knew when he was my father was tall and built with muscle. He was short-haired and blue eyed. The man in front of me was the complete opposite. His back was curved and his skin was hanging off of his body. His veins were showing through his skin and his chin was covered in stubble. The eyes that looked at me were glazed over and dead. “This,” Norman smiled when he finally noticed the child in his arms. “Is Emily.” “Daughter?” I asked sadly. “But not for long.” Norman responded. He placed the girl on her two feet and then he put his hands in his pockets. “I can’t take care of her. She’s getting older and hard to take care of.” “Put her up for adoption. Problem solved. We need to go.” Christopher answered and turned to pull open the door. I nodded and followed my brother toward the exit. “I can’t. I already have a family for her.” Norman explained. He grabbed the little girl’s hand and helped her into a chair facing the window. “Great. Go find them. I don’t want to look at you anymore.” Christopher said and turned his back to me. He rubbed his eyes and tried to hide the sniffling from his crying. “Good luck with her…sir.” I nodded and led my brother out of the diner and down the parking lot. Christopher kicked a rock in front of him and kept his head down. He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and stared at the little moon reflection in his polished shoes. I kept my hand on his shoulder and turned him in the right direction. I opened the door to his car and waited for him to get into the seat. The wind blew my hair into my face and whipped the back of my legs. The sun had disappeared and the moonlight failed to illuminate the parking lot. The diner’s neon sign had all but died and left only three glowing letters. My boot print created a path in the layer of dirt covering the parking lot from the diner to my brother’s car. “Hey! Wait!” I turned to see who was running towards us and Christopher leaned his head out of the car door. Norman jogged to us while holding his child on his hip. She played with her father’s hair as he came to a stop in front of the car and shifted her to his other hip. My brother looked at Norman and waited for an explanation. “You-you’re the family.” Norman said as he tried to catch his breath. “You’ll take her, right?” I backed up a couple of steps and opened my mouth to speak. I stood with my jaw to the floor but didn’t say anything. The wind dried out my mouth and made it taste like sandpaper. “You’ll keep her, Matty?” Norman asked me. I shook my head slowly and headed to my car, not looking back at Norman or my brother. I sat in my car and watched the man turn to my brother who still sat in his car with the door open. I saw him mouth the same words as his hair whipped him in the face. I noticed Norman eying the car seat in the back of Christopher’s car as he spoke to my brother and tried to persuade him. Christopher looked at Norman as he held out the young girl who had no idea what was happening and reached into his pocket to pull out something. My brother handed our father a crumpled handful of what seemed to be dollar bills and slowly shut the door of his car. Christopher started his engine and I started to back out of the parking spot. I drove past the man cradling the young girl with the pig tails in the middle of the parking lot and I watched as he made no attempt to stop my brother as he drove off. I kept an eye on my rear view mirror as the man holding the child became smaller and smaller and was finally swallowed by dust and night. I turned the wheel of my car and sped off in an opposite direction.

#creative writing 1 #assignment #april 2015 #flash fiction

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