Tumgik
#curry song turned out before last year
thus-spoke-lo · 7 months
Text
cw: gn!reader; modern AU; pining
Tumblr media
Thinking of a messy, “are they or aren’t they?” type of friendship with Sanji.
Sanji doesn’t need to ask what your coffee order is anymore—he shows up at your desk with your latte as soon as you sit down in the morning. You brought lunch to work but you ask if he wants to go out and get something anyway; you trade off who drives, taking the opportunity to play curated playlists for each other that serve as the soundtrack to your conversations. You buy this time, curry from the hole-in-the wall shop where he knows the owner, telling him it’s the least you can do for the daily coffees. You offer each other tastes of what you ordered, exchanging bites over the cramped folding table in front of the restaurant.
You call him and tell him that you’re home safe when you go out, per his request—he’s the first person you tell when you’re out drinking, just in case something happens. He’s the first to offer to come pick you up when you seem like you shouldn’t be driving home—walks you to your door with an arm around your waist, makes sure you have a bottle of water to sip on while he scrounges around in your fridge for something that will soak up the alcohol. Sanji listens to you prattle on about the band you saw and complain about how expensive liquor is while he makes you the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had, and he strokes your hair when you fall asleep on his lap, lets himself out after a while and locks up with the key you gave him for emergencies.
You find yourself texting him just to talk—giving thorough reviews of whatever movie you’re watching alone, feeding him snippets of gossip when you’re out at brunch. In turn, he texts you moment-to-moment reactions during the new episode of a show you both watch, eventually asking if you want to come over and watch it with him. You find yourself dropping everything to say yes every time. It’s more fun to watch with someone else, you tell yourself, that’s all it is—even though you declined your friend’s invitation to come over and watch the very same show just a little while ago.
And sometimes—more often than you would ever admit—those silly texts about movies and what you had for dinner turn to phone calls about your parents, your anxieties, your dreams. Sometimes they last until bedtime, sometimes your earbuds die before ever you hang up, sometimes one of you falls asleep and the other listens to quiet breaths on the other end of the line. It feels like home.
Strangers mistake you for a couple with alarming regularity—you each throw up your hands and laugh nervously, quickly denying anything but friendship to the well-meaning waiter at the bistro where you always meet for drinks, or the smiling purveyor of a booth at the farmer’s market where Sanji helps you shop for the week. Your friends and co-workers snicker and ask when you’re going to give up and just go out already, and you give the same song and dance like always—you’re just good friends, you don’t like each other that way, the thought had never even crossed your minds.
But it had, in ways you refused to acknowledge. It was in the way Sanji’s stomach churned when you’d tell him about a date you’d gone on the night before. It was in the crushing feeling in your chest when he’d talk about the pretty woman at the bar that gave him her number. It was in the way relationships never seemed to work out for either of you, always secretly holding strangers to standards they’d never meet, to expectations they’d never fulfill. But you’d never admit it, never try to say it, even to yourselves, with your whole heart.
No, you’d never let yourselves believe that there could be love there in the lingering glances during pointless work meetings, in the warmth of memorized birthdays and personal anniversaries (it would be three years tomorrow that he got that new-used car, and you already had a cake ready). There could be love there, in the corners where fear couldn’t settle—fear that he would laugh at you, fear that you would reject him, fear that all you’d ever have is this and saying one wrong thing could bring it all crashing down. There could be love there, in the silence of a car ride home, sitting in traffic and watching the first glowing embers of the sun beginning to set, wondering if your hand on his thigh or his fingers brushing your forearm would be crossing a line.
There could be love there, if you’d let it in.
341 notes · View notes
royalarms · 9 days
Text
GET TO KNOW THE WRITER .
Tumblr media
what made you pick up the current muse(s) you have? i love noctis . final fantasy xv is my favorite game of all time and i've put ungodly hours into it , but fun fact ! i actually wrote prompto from 2016-2020/2021ish ( i dont remember haha ) but immediately the game became my favorite final fantasy game , and then eventually topped my passion for kingdom hearts and crisis core and just . became my number one . i still wanted a way to experience and express my love for it , but my personality had shifted sooo much over the past several years and prompto just didn't fit for me anymore , so i opted for noctis . gave him a go and ended up connecting with him on a level i would have never though LOL . i've always really really loved and enjoyed his character but writing a protagonist always gave me the willies so i never ventured into it . now im stuck here .
is there anything you don’t like to write? there are several things i WON'T write , but i don't know if there's anything i particularly dislike . i feel like if i have the right writing partner we can make most anything fun .
is there anything you really enjoy writing? i love writing things i've never written before ! new characters , new interactions , cool plots i've never written out , etc . i like to keep it exciting .
do you write in silence or do you play music? i either listen to lyricless music or write in silence . every once in awhile i can write with songs with lyrics on but it has to be really quiet . i'll turn on my character playlists in those moments , but i honestly think i do my best writing in silence .
do you plan your replies or wing them? both ! i don't have an explanation here , it just depends on the thread and the plot (if any) and when and how inspiration strikes .
do you enjoy shipping? yes . as long as the age gap isn't weird or intense toxicity is going on , i'm USUALLY down for most things :)
what’s your alias/name? aster >:) age? 25 birthday? march 29 favorite color? red ! favorite song? ohhh shoot . i love linkin park for my favorite band , but favorite SONG ? let me check my most replayed on spotify LOL . um. scatterbrain by kxllswxtch , voices in my head by falling in reverse , and numb by the used 💀 all of them are negative tw if anyone wants to listen last movie you watched? i literally do not know , i don't watch a lot of movies last show you watched? the wit/cher last song you listened to? listening to squishy caterpillars riding on bullets by istasha ( negative n drug tw ) ............. favorite food? curry and adobo :) favorite season? spring ! do you have a tumblr best friend? i dont love the phrase "tumblr best friend" idk what that entails but i have three ppl i love dearly and talk to a lot ! @otlaw , @starshcwer , @onegil ❤️❤️❤️
tagged by: i stole thisss
tagging : you should steal it too :)
8 notes · View notes
carlos-in-glasses · 9 months
Text
Tag ten people you want to get to know better
Thank you for the tag @welcometololaland @reyesstrand @bonheur-cafe @alrightbuckaroo @ladytessa74 @rosedavid @lemonlyman-dotcom @taralaurel @theghostofashton ❤️
Please also enjoy this giant grumpy baby in a gurney as a special bonus:
Tumblr media
Relationship Status: In October it'll be five years of living in sin with a man who just told me off because I accidentally knocked over our cuddly toy panda.
Song stuck in my head: "I Didn't Know I Was Looking for Love" by Everything But the Girl. I don't think I've ever had it in my head before, but right now for some reason I do!
Last song I listened to: Clearly going through a 90s thing, because it was the Knebworth 96' version of "Slide Away" by Oasis, which I also had in my head earlier big time stylie. NOW THAT YOU'RE MIIIIINNNEEEEE WE'LL FIND A WAAAAAAAYYYYY---
Three favourite foods: My mum's chicken curry specifically; dark chocolate; salted pretzels.
Last thing I Googled: Boringly, for work, it was "memorandum of understanding"; but yesterday I was down a rabbit hole Googling the Titanic wreck due to recent terrifying events....
Dream trip: A walking holiday somewhere rainy and green. I'd love to visit the Californian redwoods and then venture farther up into the PNW.
Anything I want right now: I have constant low-grade anxiety at the moment - I'd like it to stop but I don't think it will because of life-things :(
If you could be any animal, what would you be and why?: I already am a golden retriever so I'll stay with that so I don't get confused. I would like to stick my head out of the window of a moving car so my lovely floppy ears flap in the air.
Would you rather have the power to read minds or fly?: Darling, I'd trade both for the power to heal or turn back time. But if there's no trade-deal available, I'll fly.
Tagging with no pressure and of course ignore if you've done this/don't want to: @goodways @heartstringsduet @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @never-blooms @freneticfloetry @paperstorm @thisbuildinghasfeelings @actuallysara @reasonandfaithinharmony @catanisspicy @hoko-onchi-writes @howlingsaturn @largepeachicedtea @bubblesandroses8 @noxsoulmate @meditating-honey-badger - this is more than 10 I'm out of control! Rainbow hearts for everyone ❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜
24 notes · View notes
nuatthebeach · 1 year
Text
you knew that i'm a mastermind, and now you're mine
comment here on AO3.
mastermind may be an unlikely choice from Taylor Swift's Midnights, but i hope this short fic explains why it's the right one. more on that here.
gifted to @corneliaavenue for ranting with me about this damn album and finding new ways to apply its songs to hinny every day.
At first glance, the press can feel quite irritating.
Not in the she's-Harry-bloody-Potter's-wife sort of way - though there is plenty of that kind too, don't get her wrong - but in the you-are-famous-so-you-must-be-asked-all-sorts-of-intrusive-questions kind of way.
Over the years, she's come up with methods to circumvent those, and she finds herself fairly satisfied with the results.
Ginny flicks her eyes to her watch and claps her palms together. "Right, you lot. You know the rules: one hour, free for all," she raises her eyebrows in question, "Except for?"
"Respect boundaries, no use of passive aggressive questions, don't bring up Mr. Potter, limit discussions to Quidditch but deviations are allowed if not intrusively personal," the small press group chants obediently before one adult with rough skin tacks on, "And absolutely zero tolerance for any - and I quote from you directly - '1950s shite that implies anything about being the Chosen One's baby factory.' We should know better, and we should be better."
She grins, eyes brightening. "Correct, Peter! You learn quick! How are the kids, by the way? Sarah finally crawling?"
"Yes, Mrs. Potter, but we've got a new problem, unfortunately. Changing her nappy has become a bit difficult."
Ginny can tell. The man's hairline is already beginning to recede at the tender age of thirty eight, poor thing. She's not too much of a cow to point that out, of course.
"Ah, well, changing a nappy is a two person job," she states instead, "Maybe get Meghan to hold her arms down?"
"That won't stop her kicking, I suppose. But it is a start."
"And you, Sully?" she turns her attention to the lanky man standing in the back right, the words 'Highway to Hell' spilled colorfully on his shirt, ever the lover of Muggle music that he is. "Did you try that Indian restaurant I told you about last meeting? Remember we talked about expanding your palate to something a bit more…tasteful?"
He smiles a gap-filled smile, his remaining enamel a perfect match to the withering gray of his hair. At least one can't sue The Daily Prophet for ageism, she thinks off-handedly.
"Yes, I did. The curries were to die for. I've got a recommendation for you too, if you'd like."
Remembering his past insistence that she should give a taste for haggis, a quite fascinating Scottish delicacy of a sheep's heart, liver, and lungs mixed intricately with oatmeal and onions, Ginny fights to keep the smile on her face.
"Er, yeah, Sully, let's circle back to that, for sure."
One woman in the front raises her brightly manicured hand, practically bouncing in her eagerness to ask her first question. Ginny obliges, noting that she's among the newer, younger faces. "Hi, Gi - er, Mrs. Potter…I'm Jasmine! I've been cheering for you since your starting position with the Harpies! As someone who has also grown up in a testosterone-fueled house, I can tell you that seeing you earn a place in every league, every tournament you've been in has just - I am honor - I mean, you're just so amazing, and I - fuck, okay, I'll wrap this up."
Ginny laughs, startled but pleasantly so. She mouths a quick 'thank you,' touched beyond words.
Jasmine takes a deep breath and struggles to morph her expression to the likes of the other serious faces around her, self-consciously tucking a piece of chestnut hair behind her ear. Ginny wishes she wouldn't. Her energy is refreshing. She promises to tell her this one day.
"Since your projected wins have been accurate thus far, my question is, what do the stats say about the likelihood of the upcoming game resulting in the Chudley Cannons ranking above the Ballycastle Bats for the first time in seven years? They've certainly pulled their weight this season."
"Well, if you asked my brother, he'd say 100%, but since I'm obligated to tell the objective truth…" They all laugh appreciatively, and Jasmine's smile returns to the avid nature it once was. "On a more informative note, though, I'd say the realistic chances are…"
And this goes on for a while, the push and pull of conversation and banter, like gentle waves yielding to an easy tide, and this, this is the energy Ginny wishes she had been surrounded with throughout her professional life so far. She had never once blamed this particular lack on Harry, of course, for only a dimwit would believe he had somehow orchestrated this whole thing.
And if he still believes this sometimes, he's her dimwit, so he doesn't really count.
And it's not like she cares about what other people think.
Though it is another thing entirely to say it can't be a pain in the arse sometimes. A nail in an already infected foot.
But she refuses to let that bring her down.
It's her life, and she weaves the web of her own destiny. After all, she's spent enough time letting people use shears to tear them down.
"Mrs. Potter, I don't believe you ever addressed your oldest rumor back in your Hogwarts days?"
Ah, she spoke too soon. The Shear Personified.
"It's been overheard from several of your old classmates that Mr. Potter has identified you in his Amortentia during potions class." Oh, Jeffree, don't do it. You were quiet for so long. As you should have remained. "I mean, has there ever been an instance where you slipped in a love potion, let's say, in his pumpkin juice during breakfast? At least once?" I could have introduced you to Aunt Muriel, and you could have been miserable gossips together. "It's just a bit hard to believe - "
She doesn't even have to open her mouth because all of a sudden, the small crowd starts to chatter angrily, glaring at the admittedly social-cues-lacking middle-aged man.
"Boo," gap-toothed Sully chants, throwing his unlit cigarette butt in an aimless direction.
"Poor form, mate," Peter's head shaking causes a child's toy to go off in his nappy bag. "You should know the rules by now."
"Get. Out." This high-pitched but firm squeak is from Jasmine herself, and it's honestly more effective than any of the group's efforts thus far.
Ginny looks around at the mayhem, touched that her little fan circle is responding so strongly on her behalf.
It means the world, truly, considering that she'd gotten comfortable with the accusations and hate for so long, she forgot it had ever bothered her.
The turn of her lips, though slight, is full of awe, taking in the sight around her.
When the din finally quiets enough, she catches the end of Jeffree's defensive words: "All I am saying is that they were adolescents when they first got together, and reports say - "
"Who gives a damn what reports say?!"
"Er, thank you, Jasmine. Reports say that he was soon on the run for months, and - and - " he falters when he sees Ginny's cutthroat eyes, clearing his throat, "even at the last game, there are images of Mr. Potter staring in a 'daze that rivals a sacrificial victim ensnared by an enchantress,' to quote your own colleague Rita Skeeter - "
"Well, I'm glad Rita finds me enchanting," Ginny cuts in dryly, "But what are these images that you keep babbling about? At least have the gall to put your money where your mouth is before throwing accusations in the middle of a private press meeting."
With irritatingly un-shaky hands, Jeffree pulls out the "Exclusive Celebrity Papers," a Rita Skeeter new edition - as if she's written anything else in the past - and jabs at the pictures with one stubby finger.
She narrows her eyes, observing grainy-image-Harry gaping at grainy-image-Ginny, who had been commentating that day for the recent Appleby Arrows and Tutshill Tornados match, his gaze utterly distracted and…unfocused.
That is peculiar, Ginny wonders. Was it possible that he was stupefied earlier that day at work? No, the spell doesn't usually last that long, and he would have told her if he was, and besides, she's seen that look before she just can't place it -
And then, Ginny sees where exactly he's ogling at, and everything immediately clicks together.
"I know love potions are supposed to bring about feelings of lust, but I hate to break it to you, those trousers are known to do the same."
Her crowd laughs appreciatively, and Jasmine lets out a hearty whoop.
At this point, Jeffree's cheeks are a deep maroon.
"That - that's not very appropriate."
Ginny rolls her eyes. "Neither are your questions. I have a fit arse. My husband knows this. The sun rises in the east. Celery is a shite vegetable. Life goes on."
"Oh, please."
Great, here comes Ginny's least favorite part of these press meetings. She had been foolish to think it was put in the past, but alas.
When a man feels hurt that their ego isn't stroked, they spend their time feeling the need to let everyone know, thinking they'll care.
Like a child crying for attention. Only with these types of men, it's not a phase.
"Let's not pretend that everyone here is not wondering the same thing," the prat starts, "What, you think they care what restaurant taste you have? Your daycare advice? We all came here for one thing. A story."
This sends the room in a heated flurry again, but Ginny cuts it short, her biting remark a crisp breeze on a two-in-the-morning walk home.
"I don't need a love potion for my own husband to want me. And I don't care what you think your opinion is."
She skips, of course, the rant thrumming deep within her veins about how she, of all people, would know on a personal level what it's like to lose autonomy and would be the last to take it away from someone else. Such an obvious argument would only go over this dense sack's head.
Besides, she doesn't owe anyone any explanation.
Instead, she settles the building friction in the room with a cool: "But if you dare insult anyone in this room again, you'll find that the next story you cover is the one outside the toilets of the Ministry. And spoiler alert, entries into the departments are not all they use them for."
The rest of the press - no, her friends - cheers in delighted unison, Jasmine going so far as to hold the door for Jeffree's exit.
Sully swipes Rita's paper from his hand and rips it in two.
xxx
Harry laughs, listening attentively to Ginny's recount of the entire debacle, peppering remarks of "it is a great arse" and "if I see Jeffree covering the toilet entries I'll be sure to leave the seat up" and "ah, classic Sully. Maybe we should try the haggis he's always talking about," to which Ginny replies "or maybe we shouldn't" and grins as he affirms "yeah, maybe we shouldn't."
When their low-lit living room falls to a hush, Harry leans into Ginny's side, refilling her wine without her asking, and she ponders at how being with him just fits.
Like dominoes cascading in a line.
She puts her glass down and snuggles under his chin, preferring his clean scent as her method of intoxication instead.
"It's amazing," he breaks the companionable silence after a while, rubbing her back.
She lifts her head curiously.
"Only you could turn around a whole group of paparazzi and make them not only respect your boundaries but adore you. As a person. You just win over people so easily."
Ginny laughs and playfully nudges her elbow into his side, pressing her forehead to his. She knows he's really saying You win me over too, you know. Every day.
And all the rich colors of the grass around the world can't capture the natural comfort that his sage eyes make her feel.
She just has one final, teasing question to ask him.
"I mean, are you really surprised?"
His smirk is wide.
"Not in the least."
80 notes · View notes
dira333 · 7 months
Text
Fall into me - Chouji x reader
Song: Fall into me - Forest Blakk
Tumblr media
The day that I met you
The world had just spit me out
.
Where you came from, Heaven was promised to those who fell for the cause, but hell was reserved for those who were enemies, traitors, or cowards. It was as easy as that and as difficult. Because where do those go that don’t die?
You had turned to the closest hidden village, hoping against all odds that they would not spit you out.
.
Konoha had been just a name before then, attached to even more names.
Orochimaru. 
Sasuke Uchiha.
The Uzumaki Clan.
Just a few steps into the village you saw a group of Shinobi standing together. A woman with blond hair and two men. Your eyes followed them as you walked past, always on edge, always on the lookout. 
A butterfly flew past you, tiny blue wings fluttering in the wind.
The bigger one of the two men held out his hand for the tiny creature, let it rest on his fingertip with a smile on his hand.
When he noticed you staring, you turned and fled.
.
Sure I'd never be found
Then you saw me for me
.
It’s not easy finding your place like Konoha.
Everyone knows everyone and gossip is almost as important as regular training.
Two months into your time here you earn yourself the name “ice princess” because you never show emotion.
Don’t they know that it’s dangerous to be vulnerable?
Haven’t they fought too?
.
“Do you want some?” Choji asks from his place by the fire. He offers you some of the stew he’s been preparing.
It’s the first time one of you has broken the silence since leaving Konoha for this mission.
You shake your head and watch him take the first spoonful into his mouth.
He sighs blissfully and smiles, offering you the bowl again.
“It’s not poisoned.” He tells you. “I tested it.”
You dig in this time, shame curling in your stomach at him having found you out. But shame is quickly displaced with the warmth of his food. It’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted, rich in flavor but even richer in meaning. 
Despite his size, Choji’s the first to make space for you.
His eyes might not be as powerful as others, but he’s the first one to see you for what you are.
.
You said close your eyes
I got you now
.
You don’t eat food unless you’re sure it’s not poisoned.
You don’t sleep or sit or stand with your back to the door or the window. 
You don’t talk unless directly questioned.
And as if it’s nothing to him, Choji has molded himself around you.
On missions, he offers you his food after he’s tried it. 
At group dinners he asks if you want to share your portion, claiming that the portion sizes will be too big for you anyway.
On the rare occasions that you have to sleep in a room with the bed placed between the bed and the window, he curls around you like a giant shield.
He asks questions. Just to hear your answer.
.
“Did you prefer the tomatoes or the peppers?”
“Can you taste the curry powder?”
“What does that cloud look like to you?”
“Did you sleep well last night?”
.
Fall into me and I'll catch you, darlin
We'll dance in the street like nobody's watching
.
Relationships used to be for different people.
People who could go to bed without worrying if they’d wake up tomorrow.
But somewhere along the lines friendship blurred into something more, and trust grew into love.
You’ve learned to let go, knowing Choji will be there to catch you.
.
“I’ve prepared some Bento’s.” He tells you in the morning before he leaves for a mission. “Eat the one with fish first. Mother expects you for dinner tomorrow.”
“Why?” You ask, ignoring the looks you’re getting. You’d rather drop dead than not see him leave properly.
Choji snorts. “She likes you. She wants you around for dinner like usual.”
“But you’re not going to be there.” You remind him, old fears rearing their ugly heads again.
He takes your hand in his, his large palm swallowing yours.
His eyes are warm when he looks at you, able to melt the ice around your heart any day of the year. 
“I’m not the only one who cares about you. I’m just the one who loves you the most.”
.
I'm drunk on your voice high on the moment
I'd fall for you twice if that's what you wanted
.
Your laughter rings through the room, a carefree sound.
Choji’s snorting in tune, clearly more amused by your reaction than Choza’s story. 
After all, he’s heard it again and again.
Your laughter is much more pleasing to him and his hand finds yours under the table.
“Has Choji told you about the time he managed to bring a whole cake onto a mission?”
Chouza asks. “The fifteenth generation isn’t the only one who can tell some stories.”
You shake your head no, still trying to gather yourself after your laughing fit.
Under the table, you press his hand three times and he can’t help the lovestruck smile breaking free. 
You haven’t been able to say it yet, words scaring you more than actions, but you’ve told him in your own ways how you feel.
He knows, his parents know, your friends know that you love him, that he loves you.
There’s a ring in the first drawer of his nightstand, a folder of possible apartments he wants you to look at, and your toothbrush in his bathroom at his parent's house.
He’d fall for you twice if that’s what you wanted and he’s able to wait as long as you need.
You’re his and he’s yours and that’s all that matters.
.
I'd give you my life from now 'til forever
I'm falling in love with you
Over and over again
.
Your wedding is a small affair.
Chouza is the only one left standing of the fifteenth generation of Ino-Shika-Chou, unable to keep from shedding tears when he hears your vows.
“I give you my life. From now on until forever. I am falling in love with you, over and over again.”
Your voice doesn’t shake when you speak, your hands secure in his.
You have been through war together.
After this, everything else will be easy.
.
And I knew my heart wasn't mine
On the day that I met you
My whole world came alive
.
You’ve fought a war, learned to survive in situations that would kill anyone else, have won the fight against eating disorders and paranoia.
But parenthood is a different kind of fight.
There are mornings when Chouji sits by your bed and has to beg for every sip of ginger tea you’re forcing down.
There are nights you sneak out of the house to sit with Chouza, wallowing in a fit of survivor’s guilt.
Some days you miss being Anbu, other days you’re afraid of ever going back. 
Some days your body grows and your heart seems to shrink until the only thing that’s left is the love for Chouji and Chouji alone.
.
Love doesn’t have to be like diamonds.
It doesn’t have to endure pressure to earn it’s worth.
But when it endures it gains a preciousness never imagined.
You’d given your heart to Chouji years ago, felt it beat in his hands where it was safe whenever he smiled at you.
But the day that you met your child, the world came alive again.
You found meaning in the eyes of those you loved.
“Fall into me and I'll catch you.” 
18 notes · View notes
whoneedsapublisher · 2 years
Text
Ending
Weird little NozoNico inspired somewhat by Death of a Bachelor. I think this is techinically like my second or third fic to be inspired by that song but not actually really connect to it directly.
Words: ~1400
Summary: Nico finds herself outside, late at night, with a glass of whiskey and a feeling she can't quite pin down.
Also on Ao3
*******************************
Nico plays with her lighter idly as she stares off into the city, still bustling even this late at night. She’s spent most of her life in Tokyo, but she always remembers what it was like when she went to go visit the countryside, seeing the whole town go completely dark at night, pitch blackness broken only by stars and moonlight. Here, though, darkness is kept in corners and fringes, with light spilling out from countless sources into the unyielding night.
She’s never smoked, but she still has the lighter. It’s a nice one, not some cheap plastic one. Nico doesn’t know if it’s actually steel or some kind of alloy. It could be titanium for all she knows. But it’s comfortingly heavy and hard, and the some kind of silver grey, so it’s definitely some kind of metal.
She runs her thumb along the wheel of it, silently, not hard or fast enough to spark it, just feeling the rough indentations. And then, with a click, she snaps it shut and takes a sip of her whiskey.
A cool breeze blows past her, mostly blocked by dividers on the balcony but still enough to ruffle her clothing a little. It’s not late enough in the year to be cold yet, but summer is certainly over. Cocoro’s last summer vacation has already come to an end, and she’s doubtlessly already studying for exams. She’s always been serious.
The lighter belonged to her father, once upon a time. Nico had asked him once why he had it, since he didn’t smoke either. He’d told her that it was for his work. Nico hadn’t understood at the time, but she did now. Her father was the kind of man who always had a light for a coworker or a superior along with a smile.
Nico wasn’t that kind of person. She’d never demurely lit some middle management asshole’s cigar in an attempt to curry favour. She’d lit cigarettes for a couple of ex-girlfriends, though. And she’d used it to burn photos. There was a certain flourish to that which had been… satisfying. An emotional closure.
She flicks the lighter open again. Her thumb rests on the wheel once more, but this time she doesn’t move it. She sets her glass down and stares out a far away patch of neon that she faintly recognizes. She’s walked down that street before, late enough for the neon to be on and blazing against the night.
It’s weird that her and Nozomi are together.
It wouldn’t have been weird if they’d gotten together years and year ago, back in college. Or even highschool. But they didn’t. Nico only had eyes for Maki. Nozomi was enchanted by Eli and Honoka in equal measure. The two of them were friends, and nothing else. And over the years, they’d drifted apart. When Nico was trying to annoy Maki, she’d say “she got our friends in the divorce”, and there was some truth to that. μ’s hadn’t all turned their back on her or anything, but there was a period where Nico and Maki really didn’t have any desire to be at the same event, and every time Nico was the one who stepped back, missing out on meetups with their old friends to avoid seeing Maki.
Eventually, the two of them could bear to see each other’s faces again, and their friend group had come back together. But by then, Nico had gotten closer to her other friends, friends from college and the idol scene who’d only even known Maki as “Nico’s girlfriend”.
But Nico and Nozomi, even if they were at different schools, were still in the same graduating class. And in a fit of nostalgia, Nozomi had called Nico up in their last year of college to invite her to a graduation party. If it had been the same day as the graduation party her college friends were throwing, Nico probably would have turned it down. But as luck would have it, they were different dates, and Nico had no reason not to accept. In the end, Nico and Nozomi had ended up staying up late in the garden behind Nozomi’s apartment building, drinking and chatting, and their friendship had rekindled. From there, they’d met up more and more, and something a little more than friendship started to grow.
And now… here they are.
She’s not entirely sure why she feels like this. She should be happy. She is happy, genuinely. She likes dating Nozomi. She likes holding her hand when they walk together, she likes going on dates with her, she likes cuddling with her at home and watching movies. And she doesn’t regret having sex with her, crossing that last line together and ending up sweaty and exhausted, tangled up together in dirty sheets with their bodies intertwined. She was happy to fall asleep in Nozomi’s arms, her head full of happy fluff and sizzling sparks.
But when she woke hours later, and the two of them had separated in their sleep, a strange feeling had gripped Nico. She’d dressed herself, tucked Nozomi under the covers so she wouldn’t catch cold, and made her way out to the balcony with a drink to think.
About what, she isn’t sure. But some part of her is uneasy. Can’t bring itself to just lie back down next to her girlfriend and drift off into a blissful sleep.
She feels like something has been altered, taken away. Like the world is different than it was when she’d started the day. The feeling nags at her, a pit of unease in her stomach.
She flicks the lighter closed again, and suddenly, a memory is jolted loose, floating to the front of her brain.
She’s holding Maki in her arms. It’s a little silly. Maki is still taller than her, and yet she’s curled up in Nico’s arms, balled up and pressed against her as Nico holds her like she’s the smaller oner.
“Nico,” she says, and her tone isn’t abrasive or sarcastic or angry. It’s soft, and happy. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Nico says. It’s easier to say than she thought it would be. She doesn’t even think about what saying it means. Doesn’t think over what stage of their relationship it is, whether it’s really appropriate to say it so casually. Maybe it’s the endorphins, or warmth of Maki against her bare skin, but the words slip out of her mouth so easily.
Maki smiles at her, a genuine, open smile, something that feels so rare to see off the stage, and kisses her, and Nico can’t help but feel pleased about saying that she loves her if that’s what it gets her. Who cares if it’s too early or too late?
Maki would have never asked. But in that moment, if she’d asked if Nico would love her forever, Nico would have said yes without a second thought.
Ah. And that’s what it was.
Nico hasn’t been a nun since her and Maki broke up. There’s been other girlfriends. Nico would probably even say that might have she loved some of them. Some of them they broke up before that developed, but at least one… maybe she could have said those words, eventually, if they’d stayed together. And that moment of cuddling isn’t unique either- she’s had sex with other girls since Maki and her took each other’s virginity, even before her and Nozomi.
But at any point during all that, if someone had asked her if she was still in love with Maki, could she have really truthfully said the answer was no? Even if she didn’t want to get back together with Maki, even if she knew why they broke up and why they were both better off for it, her feelings persisted.
And now, when Nico looks back on the memory of that night, that’s all it is. A memory. Something in the past. When Nico thinks about who she loves, Maki’s face no longer comes to her mind.
It’s been many years. But Nico’s first love has finally ended. Fully, absolutely, and permanently.
It’s a melancholy thing. Perhaps, secretly, some part of her had liked the romantic notion of clinging to her first love forever. Had liked the idea of soulmates, of a grand romantic tragedy where they were the only one for each other but could never be together. But now it’s over.
Nico sets the lighter down on the table gently, and then raises her glass to the twinkling city below.
“To first love,” she says quietly.
4 notes · View notes
crimsonblackrose · 2 years
Text
Tagged by @wicked-jade Thank you!
Current time: 12:01
Current status: Single
Favorite food: ice cream, hotteok, jajamyeong, japanese curry, a simple grilled fish or eel with rice, salmon, lasagna, pizza.
Song stuck in my head: I’m listening to a playlist so what’s currently playing is “Claudia” by FINNEAS
Favorite colors: blue, purple, teal, black
Last thing I googled: Avanti 1984 convertible/ Avanti timeline. Not sure if this would interest anyone, but it got cut from my article so I’ll put it here.
I’m a little wordy on the rest of this so I’m sticking it under a read more
There was a Avanti II red convertible prototype used in various film productions in the 80s including like one scene of the karate kid. The idea I assume was that it’d promo for the expected release of the first ever Avanti convertible slated to come out in 1984, I found press releases for this. So if you google like red car karate kid you get Avanti 1984 convertible, despite that not being what the car actually is and there being little information about the actual car. Which is weird. After days of research I realized that the 1984 production of Avanti’s all had to be recalled. They were supposed to use a very special racing paint, and I don’t know if it was the resin bumpers or the fiberglass parts, or just a new paint not used on this type of car before, but the paint just refused to stick. And like this issue happened fast, leading to a mass recall of all the produced 1984 models because they were under factory warranty. Which meant Avanti had to foot the bill. And subsequently went bankrupt for like the models 3rd or 4th time. When it passed over to new ownership, again, they finally picked up the convertibles and actually produced them in 1987.
All of this meaning that the convertible from the movie and a bunch of other random things is one of a kind and the advertisement for the models you suppose it was meant for don’t actually exist, or if that character owned that car it would’ve started peeling and turned pretty ugly fast and thus would’ve had to be sent back to the factory/Avanti in 1984/1985. It also means, for some bizarre reason despite being like a famous film and TV car, you can’t find it anywhere.  Or at least I couldn’t.
So what does this mean? This means in the world of the movies, if he has this brand new 1984 Avanti convertible and not the prototype, as most people assume it’s meant to be, then shortly after his sensei tries to murder him and he loses pretty much everything and falls apart due to trauma, his nearly $40,000 car (that’s how much they were expected to go for according to the press release) also starts to chip and fall apart on him.
Something I want to do right now:
Get everything that is on my creative back burner and to do list off of it. I have 2 fanfics that are close to being done that I’d like to finish and get off my plate. One is much closer to being done then the other.
I have the audio of one podcast episode sitting on my computer and that has been for a year that a friend has very patiently been waiting for me to edit, transcribe and upload, but I’ll need to record new audio explaining that it’s the last episode and a year old due to reasons and check with the friend I interviewed if they’d like to add any changes since it’s been a year.
I have a series on Italy that needs to be written up from my notes, the photos need to be pulled from my storage and uploaded to my travel blog/portfolio. I have 3-4 different novel first drafts that are sitting unfinished on my computer in various states of revision. I have a partial started butterfly needlepoint I need to finish, a whole bunch of yarn I was going to turn into scarves, a bunch of kits for making little crochet ghosts that I need to learn how to do. I need to find a violin repair shop and guitar repair shop and take both instruments in and see what the estimate for the repairs would be and then sign up for lessons. I need to revise my resume and update everything and apply to the job I have open in a tab. I need to start job hunting. I need to start some sort of financial planning so I can move out or like start that process. (No one has asked me to, but I miss living on my own)
I need to figure out how to find a local array of doctors because I’ve lived here now for 2ish years and with my insurance is being a pain I haven’t been able to figure out or find a basic primary care doctor, eye doctor, dentist ect and get overwhelmed every time I try because the system is a mess.
I need to reach out and respond to friends who I haven’t talked to since before my dad got sick. I need to read the books on grief my aunt gave me and dig around in the EAP while I still have access to it to look at their grief files.
I accidentally invited myself to a wedding and I need to see when that is and talk to the bride and either determine that I’m not going or make plans to go.
(Leaning towards not going because I just don’t have the energy but I owe a gift, and feel awful.)
I need to figure out a routine that gets me moving and out of the house, yet I’m so overwhelmed with everything on my to do list that are like indoor in front of computer things that I just don’t. One of my friends I think started rollerblading so I kind of want to reach out and see if she wants to meet up and try doing that together. I’ve asked my aunt to do archery and kayaking with me but there’s been no movement on either front yet.
I need to read the ten chapters for book club on Friday.
So essentially I want to sleep and do nothing because this list is overwhelming and maybe play the video games I haven’t.
Dream trip:
I have many. I’ve been wanting to do a cruise. When I was little we did Disney cruises with my grandparents and I’d kind of hoped to do one after getting back but *gestures vaguely*. I want it to be one that goes to other countries, so like the one that does Europe and just knock a whole bunch of “famous sites” off my list in one fell swoop. But I’m not going any time soon.
I want to go to House on the Rock and do a road trip with friends. I want to do a trip of the west coast and east coast. I want to see the parks. I want to go to Hawaii and Alaska. I want to visit my friend in Peru, and visit another friend in Canada. I want to make up the trip to New Zealand that I had to cancel. I want to do another trip with my aunt and uncle (not the speedy ones my last trip was with) and one with my cousins, I want to go somewhere with my sisters. I want to see my friends.
Tagging if you want to:
(I apologize if you’ve already been tagged)
@hatethatoneguy @zerrah @kellmeo
2 notes · View notes
theday · 3 years
Text
sighs
2 notes · View notes
pamplemousseparadox · 2 years
Text
(Prompt 13: dancing)
Lin had already been fretting for hours when there was a knock at the door. At the last minute, she blew out the candles lined up on the counter. It’s too much, she thought, before bending open the door. 
“Whatever you’re making, it smells amazing,” Kya said, sauntering in. She tossed her silvery hair with a soft smile before leaning against the counter. “I could smell it all the way from the door downstairs.”
“Spicy curry.”
“How spicy?”
Lin raised an eyebrow. “Depends. How spicy do you like it?”
“As spicy as you can make it.” Kya grabbed the spoon, dipping it into the sauce. She licked the back of it, flicking her gaze down to Lin. “A tiny bit more, and it’s perfect.”
Lin nodded, tossing in the seeds she’d set aside earlier. She was pleased that Kya liked her food with a kick, too. It made cooking for her more fun. “So, busy day on the island?”
“Not so much busy as completely out of control,” Kya said with a laugh. “I love those kids with all my heart, but they do wear you out. You’re lucky you didn’t meet Su’s until they were old enough to fend for themselves.” She tilted her head. “Did you blow out candles before I got here?”
“No.”
“The wick is still smoldering, Lin.”
“Fine, yes.”
Kya moved behind Lin, trapping her against the counter, an arm on either side. “You lit candles for me!”
“Don’t make some big thing of it.”
“Why did you blow them out?”
“I thought it might be... too much.”
“We’re too old for too much, Lin.” Kya released her, striking a match and relighting them. “My favorite scent, too.”
“You mentioned that you liked it.”
Kya’s brow furrowed. “When did I mention that?”
“That trip to Ember Island.”
“Lin, that was thirty-odd years ago.”
“Mhmm.” 
Kya rested a hand on the gramophone, giving Lin a strange look. “This record, too?”
“What do you mean?”
“It was playing on the radio that time you drove me home last year.”
Lin shifted uncomfortably, focusing on stirring the sauce before removing it from the heat. She knew it had been too much, no matter what Kya said. “It’s just a coincidence.”
“No it’s not,” Kya said softly. “Lin, did you think this was a date?”
“No.” Lin’s face burned, and she turned to busy herself in the cupboard, where Kya wouldn’t see the shame written all over her face. Stupid, Lin, she thought.
The song began to play, and her stomach lurched. In a second, Kya’s hands were on her waist. 
“Good,” Kya whispered in her ear. “I was hoping it was a date, too.” She turned Lin around, slipping an arm around her waist, and taking Lin’s hand in her own. 
Lin didn’t say anything. It was like a dream, or something too fragile to touch, and yet she could feel Kya’s gently elevated pulse, and her own soft, shallow breaths. 
They danced long after the song had ended, swaying in each other’s arms. Kya didn’t leave until morning. 
36 notes · View notes
aiiwa · 3 years
Text
BEAUTIFUL IN BLUE — IWAIZUMI HAJIME.
Tumblr media
— iwaizumi hajime.
⤷ genre: college au - fluff / smut
⤷ warnings: cursing, mature content and themes. smut: fingering (vaginal and anal), unprotected sex. kind of proof read but if you see a typo...no you didn’t.
⤷ word count: 6.4k
— a/n: set in the “FRESHMAN YEAR” universe, and is a continuation of “PRETTY IN PINK” - which i suggest reading before this. for those who wanted some real action after pretty in pink, this is for you <3.
Tumblr media
a couple of weeks had passed since the incident. at least that’s what you had been addressing the day you had sent photos of you modelling your new lingerie to iwa, as. things had seemingly returned back to normal, photo unmentioned, and still your steady friendship continued with the oblivious brunette.
and now november had announced its arrival, with your boots beginning to disappear under crunchy oceans of cherry, merigold and bronze, and the potent, musky-sweet smell of browning leaves swirling around the air. it was the tell tale sign that fall was well and truly here, and what better of a time to drive out of town for the day, and celebrate momijigari.
at least that’s what you had told yourself before, what was meant to be a two hour drive, turned into over three hours spent in a car with the oversized toddlers know as your best friends.
“i’m hungry~!” whined toddler number one from behind you.
mattsun outstretched his long arms, reaching around the passenger seat you sat in, in an attempt to steal more of your snacks. you had made sure everyone knew to bring their own food and water, double- no, triple checked everyone was on the same page. but of course it was no surprise that mattsun was the only one to turn up empty handed. so when his grabby hands slapped against your cheeks for the nth time, you angled your face and snapped your jaw right on his thumb.
mattsun shrieks, jolting back away from you. “fucking hell, y/n!”
twisting around in your seat, you smirk, watching as he checked over the distinct bite mark on his red thumb.
“ha, serves you right.” pipes the figure slouched next to mattsun in the back seat. “ugh i need to take a leak.”
the peach-haired, number two toddler was none other than makki. he’d woken up cranky that morning, and it only seemed to worsen when he’d been shoved into the back with the chatty mattsun. within the first ten minutes he had tried to suffocate the latter with his pillow, and when that didn’t work, he took to blasting music in his headphones and facing himself towards the window for majority of the ride. only engaging with everyone when you began snacking, and he had decided to drink all of his juice just to spite mattsun.
“oi, iwa! control your gremlin!”
“shut up.”
“no, you shut up! you didn’t even want to share your juice with me!”
“i will literally piss on you right now.”
losing interest in the bickering duo behind you, your attention diverted to the third, brooding toddler beside you in the driver’s seat. you had spent majority of the drive admiring the way iwa handled himself behind the wheel; the flex of his arms under the fitted cotton of his blue long sleeve as he turned the wheel, and how the pads of his long fingers would tap against the worn leather to the beat of whatever tune began playing on shuffle. yet out of everything, it was when iwa took to mumbling the lyrics of whichever cheesy love song you were belting out to, that you found yourself falling even deeper into the pit of your affections for him.
throughout the drive, iwa had mostly managed to ignore the others’ antics - with your intervention of course. but with how tight his grip on the steering wheel had become from the squabbling in the backseat, and the dark look brewing under his cap; it was clear how close he was to losing his cool.
extending your arm out in front of him, you offer the hershey bar in your hand, brushing it against the pout of his bottom lip. iwa’s olive eyes glance questioningly at you from the side, to which you only offer a small grin.
“take a bite.” you order. the, ‘you look like you need it,’ is silent, but obvious in the way you prod the treat at his closed mouth.
“mmph-”
his eyes returned to the road before him as he parted his lips, pink tongue making a brief appearance before he took a small bite of your chocolate. you attempt to retract your arm, until iwa moves one hand to grab your wrist; bringing you back to him to take a bigger bite of the sweet, thumb rubbing against the inner side of your palm.
the corner of his mouth tugs upwards, as he mumbles a small, “thank you.”
heat floods your cheeks, and you catch yourself before you drop the chocolate on his lap. distracted by the deafening beat of your heart pounding in your ears, you don’t notice the silence that fills the car, or the not-so subtle click of mattsun snapping a photo of the two of you in the front and sending it to the group chat. you’re pulled out of your slight trance, by a flash of peach entering your field of view.
“that was disgusting...ly sweet. and now i suddenly need to puke, so hurry it up would you.”
as makki leans back, mattsun is quick to replace him, popping his head between you and iwa.
“don’t just ignore me, y/n, feed me chocolate too!”
rolling your eyes, you shove the bar in his mouth; the rest of you three laugh as he falls back into his seat, all the while he happily munches on the treat.
a little time passes before iwa’s flicking his indicator, signalling his turn into the free parking space outside the nature reserve. he shifts the gear into park before everyone piles out - makki walking over to wrap his thick, fossil grey scarf around your neck, the cashmere soft against your skin; while mattsun offers to carry your little backpack, only sending you a sly smile when you question his reasoning for taking the bag from you. you hug iwa’s offered arm to your chest, as the four of you start trekking along the uneven pathways leading towards lake kawaguchi. the walk isn’t necessarily long, but none of you are in a rush - strolling leisurely and enjoying the atmosphere.
and when you finally reach the end of your walk, you still yourself, awestruck by the beauty surrounding you. the glassy lake shimmering under the afternoon rays, crisp maple leaves painted red, swaying to the breezy flow of the cool wind, and the tinkling laughter from young children running about on the golden fields - filled your chest with warmth.
“it’s so beautiful here.”
your voice comes out as a whisper for only iwa’s ears to hear; with makki off to relieve himself and mattsun trailing after him, acting as if you didn’t see him rummaging through your snacks. iwa only hums in agreement, missing the way he hasn’t even acknowledged the view, his gaze set solely on you.
this is what the tradition of momijigari meant; taking time away from your busy schedule to spend a moment to enjoy this small piece of life. and of course, capturing the moment with some of your favourite people on camera. so when you busied yourself with taking photos with the towering men, it really shouldn’t have surprised you when your phone began to buzz with an incoming facetime call.
sliding your thumb across the screen to answer the call, you’re greeted by the sight of oikawa’s toothy grin; illuminated by a bright light you knew had to be artificial, since it was nearing two a.m. in argentina.
“yahoo, y/n-chan! you didn’t think i’d miss out on a photoshoot did you? i already missed out on you feeding me chocolate!” you shoot an embarrassed glanced at iwa, noticing the slight furrow between his brows and the faint dust of pink across his cheeks.
“photoshoot…?” a confused makki mumbles behind you.
mattsun leans over your shoulder, shoving his face in the camera. “oi, isn’t it late for you?”
you raise a single shaped brow as oikawa scoffs, brushing his fingers through his perfectly styled hair. “the pretty face of this group has finally blessed you, and that’s all you have to say?” mattsun scrunches his face in offence, as oikawa continues. “besides, i may be in a different country but i refuse to miss out!”
and it was because of his soft pout that you found yourself posing with your phone by your face, making sure to catch oikawa’s best angles; having long given up on questioning the setter and his antics. the so-called photoshoot came to an abrupt end later on when a tired and cranky oikawa yawned, apparently ruining another photo according to him, and iwa’s finger just so happened to slip and disconnect the video call.
“he’s stubborn.” was all he had said when you, makki and mattsun side eyed him. “we should head back home before it gets late.”
the drive back to tokyo seemed relatively faster than the journey to fujikawaguchiko. it was as if your body went into autopilot as you sat behind the wheel, this time taking responsibility as the driver while the boys napped; only coming to when you were parking iwa’s truck into their apartment’s parking lot, moments after the sun had set.
it was a silent and unanimous decision to order take out for dinner, the four of you seated around the black walnut dining table to dig in. meal times with the boys were hectic, and competitive for the most part - it was survival of the fittest. you were often being challenged by mattsun - tonight having lost the last few gyoza to him.
though it became obvious who the real loser was when mattsun flopped his head onto your lap, while you were lounging out on the settee.
“y/n~” mattsun drawled out. “rub my belly, it hurts!”
“no.”
“please, y/n~! my one and only best friend, the moon to my stars, the curry to my rice-”
he releases a satisfied sigh once you reach a hand out to press your palm against his stomach, rubbing soothing circles to stop his whining; and you catch makki roll his beady eyes at the two of you, as he flicks through suggested films to watch on netflix. iwa strolls into the living room, pillows and a comforter stacked in his arms; laying them neatly on the couch he shares with you on movie nights.
“oh, iwa, could you send me the photos please?” he nods his head once, barely glancing over at you and mattsun; pulling out his phone and dropping himself unceremoniously across the adjacent sofa. “thank you.” you call out once your phone pings with several notifications.
still rubbing mattsun’s stomach, your free hand casually scrolls through the pictures from today.
you snicker to yourself at the first series of chaotic images. a selfie with smushed faces pressed together and a phone-sized oikawa tucked right under your jaw, a blurry pic of the boys throwing vermillion leaves at each other, and even a timed snapshot where you, mattsun and makki had leapt on iwa’s back - your legs wrapped around his torso, while makki squished you from behind, and mattsun had flopped himself on top of the pile. there was even a shot of the aftermath, your phone and oikawa somehow surviving the tumble, and a deadpanned iwa staring straight at the camera as the three of you behind him cackled with your heads thrown back.
at least a few wholesome pictures had been captured. a sweet group photo with all of you huddled by each other in front of a vibrant maple tree; you and iwa were flanked by mattsun and makki respectively, as oikawa was held between you and iwa like a prized trophy. even a rare moment where makki and mattsun had their arms hooked around each other, with easy going grins on both of their faces, had been caught.
butterflies erupted in your tummy, fluttering about once you swiped to the next photo. it was a candid shot of you and iwa standing by the brilliant blue lake front. you were leaning into his side, holding two leaves at the top of your head to mimic cat ears, face tilted upwards. giggling, your eyes were shut, and only now can you see that you missed the soft smile iwa donned looking down at you.
it was almost painful to admit that together you looked like a couple, and it didn’t help that most times you even acted as such. sneaking a glance at the man in question, you watch him chatting quietly to makki, gripping your phone tightly in your grasp at the sound of him laughing at whatever snide comment escaped your peach-haired friend. you couldn’t help but sigh, being in love with one of your best friends only got harder each day.
unknowingly you had already swiped to the last photo iwa had sent, so when you return your gaze the screen, you shriek; dropping your phone flat on mattsun’s face.
“um, what the fuck, ow.”
iwa’s sharp eyes shoot towards you instantly. “what’s wrong?”
you only shake your head, warmth filling your cheeks and an itch you just can’t scratch prickling under your skin. makki only shrugs, shifting his attention back to the television. iwa is more hesitant, the feeling of his olive eyes giving you a once over does nothing to calm your nerves from being sent into overdrive. when he finally turns away, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
“ugh, what even had you going even more crazy than usual all of a sudden?” mattsun groans from your lap. as he reaches to lift your phone off of his face, you’re quick to snatch the device away.
“n-nothing!” he only raises a thick brow at your defensive tone, before grabbing your hand to continue your ministrations.
glancing around the room, you pull the screen close to your face; taking in the photo, you felt your mouth run dry. 
there was no way this could have been sent to you on purpose - because the sight of a shirtless iwa at his second home, the gym, was definitely not taken at lake kawaguchi. anyone with eyes could tell how ripped iwa was under his fitted shirts. but over the past few months you had noticed that he’d run off to the gym more often; and it was obvious in the way his clothes struggled to stretch over his bulked up build these days.
it was a mid work out, mirror selfie; iwa’s dark, mocha coloured hair plastered to his forehead, bare chest glistening from the sweat dripping down from his neck. he was seated on the rubber floor, one long, tanned leg stretched out in front of him with the other bent at the knee, elbow resting loosely against his leg. your eyes greedily took in the defined dips of his toned stomach, dark snail trail leading downwards to the evident bulge of his grey shorts; the hem cutting into the flexed muscles of his thighs.
the heat pooling between your thighs as your imagination ran wild was just about to peak when-
“oi, y/n.” you almost jump, locking your screen, and blinking away the dazed look in your eyes. when your vision cleared, you found makki standing in front of you. “we’re gonna watch the movie now.”
“oh, right.”
mattsun rolls off your lap with a groan, complaining to makki about who is gonna rub his belly now, while you stand up. shuffling over to iwa, he stretches before shifting and making room for you to squeeze in next to him.
“c’mere.” he mumbles, throwing his arm around you and pulling you into his side.
the beat of your pounding heart is almost deafening in your ears, you’re near to hyperventilating, as your mind is sent into overdrive. the two of you were always cuddling platonically during movies, ever since the one time you had complained about being cold in their apartment. but this time was different. ‘is this how he felt when you had sent a picture of your new lingerie?’ you think to yourself. you spend the next hour deep in your thoughts, completely lost to whatever is happening in the sci-fi film makki had chosen, and when the end credits start rolling on the screen - iwa announces he’ll drop you off back to your dorm.
it’s close to midnight; so makki wishes you a goodnight, as a sleepy mattsun rests against his shoulder, making grabby hands for you not to go. you wave as you leave, following after iwa who opens the passenger side door of his truck, helping you jump up into the seat, before closing the door and making his way to the driver’s side.
your dorm isn’t too far from their apartment complex, so you’re not surprised at how quick the ride is. the street is unusually busy, yet completely void of any roaming students. and with no private parking for students, iwa’s forced to pull up near a secluded cluster of tall trees, a bit away from the dorm entrance.
“i’ll walk you in.” iwa says, leaving no room for argument. he reaches for his phone, as a message flashes across his screen. “oh, oikawa asked why you’ve been ignoring his messages.”
“huh?” you flip your own phone in your hand, watching as the facial recognition unlocks and suddenly iwa’s gym selfie is on full display for the both of you. it takes a moment for you to process the situation, and all you can manage is a simple, “oh,” as you resist the urge to fling your phone out of the window.
“nice photo.” iwa pipes up, you don’t even try to look at him, but the smirk in his tone is evident. “where’d you get it?”
his question throws you off, and you’re quick to turn your head to narrow your eyes at him. “what do you mean? iwa, you literally sent it to me?!”
“really? shit i must have done it by accident.”
“an accident?”
“yeah, like what you did to me. remember?”
you gasp, moving back almost as if you’ve been struck, while iwa simply laughs at your expression. a full on belly laugh that has him throwing his head back, illuminated by the glow emitting through his open moon roof. you should’ve been dwelling in the embarrassment that came with him turning your own words back on you - yet you found your own laughter mixing in with his. only when both of you had calmed down a bit, did an electrified silence fill the car.
fiddling with your phone in your lap, the strands of hair curtaining the sides of your face, is brushed aside and tucked behind the cuff of your ear. glancing at iwa, the corner of his mouth is pulled up into a fond smile as his thumb caresses the shell of your ear.
“sorry for teasing you, pretty lady. couldn’t help myself after you sent me that picture looking all pretty in pink.”
“i…” words escape you as his large hand trails down the side of your cheek. you’re suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to do something - it’s almost at the tip of your tongue, before you grab at his wrist and whisper a, “fuck it.”
leaning over the middle, you reach a hand to hold the back of his head as your lips press against his own. lips even softer than they appeared, the lingering taste of his wild cherry lip balm, the same one you owned, tasted sweeter than you remembered. after a moment, of the kiss not being reciprocated, you pull back.
“just had to do it once.” you murmur, lips still tingling.
iwa’s minty breath fans across your face as he releases an airy sigh. “then let’s do it a second time.”
this time his hand wraps loosely around your neck, pulling you towards him, and slanting his mouth over yours. you moan into the kiss as his tongue darts out to tease your lower lip. leaning into him, you almost keel forward as this time he pulls away. slightly breathless, you open your eyes to take in the barely restrained lust and adoration in his handsome features, mimicking you’re own.
“third time’s a charm, right?”
the devilish grin iwa gives you in response to your innocently posed question, has you climbing over the centre console. at the same time he’s rolling the chair back away from the leather steering wheel, making space for you to slide onto his lap and straddle him. molding your lips to his, the feeling of your tongue exploring his mouth and you grinding into him slowly; has him release a hiss as his hands grab at the fullness of your ass.
tugging at his collar, your words are muffled against his mouth. “take this off, now.”
he chuckles at your demand, pulling the hem of his shirt past the bulk of his shoulders and over his head - blindly throwing it to the backseat. you drag your eyes over the sight of his broad chest, taking in every delicious dip of his stomach; leaning forward, your tongue licks a tentative stripe along his neck, that has iwa’s breath hitch before peppering wet kisses along his skin. your hands roam around his toned body, while his own larger ones slide under your top; a searing hot trail following his exploration of your body. he draws small circles at your hips, leading up to hold your waist and bring your even closer against him.
“your turn, baby.” he whispers to you, fisting the bottom half of your top. “be fair to me, i wanna see more of you.”
sitting up straight in his lap, you slip the thin top over your head; following his suit in flinging it to the backseat. your hair brushed past your bare shoulders, exposed skin feeling the chill of the autumn night; but the look in iwa’s olive eyes, irradiated by the moonlight streaming in from the uncovered moonroof, was scorching hot. rough palms, flat against your smooth skin, slid over your tummy, teasing the sheer mesh of your bra, before playing with the baby blue ribbons on the straps.
“y/n.” iwa groans out, tracing the floral stitching and feeling the hardened nubs of your nipples under the fabric. with the moon haloing behind you, the way he stares up at you is so raw and intense, it has you frozen in anticipation. “you look so fucking beautiful in blue.”
he doesn’t wait for your response as he reaches behind you to unhook your bra, freeing your breasts from its confines. iwa’s quick to take a pebbled nub into his hot mouth, suckling as his fingers tweak the other. your fingers thread through his dark locks, when he moves and switches his focus; a lewd string of saliva dragging from your nipple to his pink tongue. stuttered grinding from his mouth distracting you, had you reaching a hand between each other to palm his erection - wanting to ease some of the tension. but iwa’s quick to snatch your hand away.
“iwa...let me touch you?”
releasing you from his mouth, he kisses the pout from your lips. “no, baby, don’t worry about me.”
“why not?” you whine.
“i wanna make you feel real good, gotta prep you for me first. is that okay with you, baby?” he only smiles softly as you start to relax against him. “i need to know if you’re okay with this. care about you so much, i just want you to be comfortable. let me know if you wanna stop right now.”
“no, h-haji...please, i don’t want to stop. i want you so bad. i need you, ah-”
your consent was all he needed before he pulls you back into him, kissing you so slow you feel dizzy; his hands travel low on your body, working the button of your jeans, as your fingers dig into his shoulders. when he breaks away from you, he helps you slip out of the dark denim, tugging each pant leg off until all you wearing is the stringy, baby blue panties that leaves little to the imagination.
“fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.” iwa groans out, rubbing a hand across his face as you giggle lightly. while you hover over him, he quickly strips off his pants, kicking them off onto the floor before grabbing onto your hips. “flip around on me, baby. that’s right, face the front.”
settling down onto his lap, the thin cotton of his briefs does nothing to hide the print of his hard-on he’s sporting underneath. and with your back pressed to his warm chest, you roll your hips teasingly into him.
“come on, haji...let me help you.” you huff, continuing to grind against him.
“oi, cut it out.”
his grip on your hips tighten in warning, and you gasp as he manhandles you easily. shifting you around so that the heel of your left foot digs into his thigh, the other secured at the edge of the leather wheel; he has your legs wide open. before you can even think about any stragglers catching you so vulnerable; iwa hooks his arm under your thigh, pads of his fingers brushing over your clothed pussy.
“haaaa~” you breathe out, hips jerking into his touch.
“fuck baby, your panties are soaked.” he continues to tease you over the drenched crotch of your panties. iwa rubs lazy circles, casually sliding under the material to play with your silk folds. his touches have you yearning for more, as you feel yourself slowly going insane as he starts to coat his fingers in your slick.
“mmm...touch me, haji...properly.”
wriggling around in his embrace, you keen once he pulls his hand away from you; holding his fingers before you, showing off how they glisten so prettily in under the moon. and then you watch over your shoulder as he leads his hand to his mouth, and licks his fingers clean.
“you taste so fucking sweet.” he’s quick to bring his fingers back to your drooling pussy, coating his fingers once again, but this time bringing them to your own lips. “here, have a taste for yourself.”
opening your mouth, iwa wastes no time pressing his long digits flat against your tongue. sucking on his fingers, you savour the saccharine essence of your pussy; moaning at your own flavour sending your tastebuds into overdrive. iwa hums, heated gaze taking in the way you take his fingers in your mouth; he slowly pulls them back out with a pop - smiling softly at the way you stare at him, all wide-eyed and wanton.
“should we get you out of these messy panties now, baby?”
at your eager nods, iwa presses a kiss to your shoulder as he has you lift your hips up; slipping your soaked panties off, and placing them on the passenger seat side the two of you. sitting you back down against him, he hooks both arms around the undersides of your thighs, grabbing at your soft flesh and spreading you wide open for him. you whimper when a big hand cups your sex, rough palm brushing against your throbbing clit.
“shh.” iwa coos, entranced with how you’re rolling your hips to grind against his hand. “i got you.”
he presses his thumb against your clit, circling the sensitive bud peaking past your puffy lips; as his middle finger teases your slit. slowly he pushes his finger inside you, a heavy, relieved moan escapes your throat, as he easily slides in and out of you. through heavy lidded eyes you watch as fog clouds the windows of iwa’s truck, the glass steamy; while perspiration collects between your bodies. you’re brought back to focus on iwa, when he teases a second finger against your slit, dipping inside you and stretching you out even more. hissing, you clench around him; the lewd squelches as he fucks you with his thick fingers, has you digging your heels into his thigh and the steering wheel.
the way iwa’s fingers reaches deeper inside than you could ever on your own, and the added stimulation to your clit, has the tightening coil in your belly snap as you cum all over his hand.
“oh baby, feels good doesn’t it?”
“yeshhh...h-haji, mmph-”
he doesn’t stop pumping you with his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm to the end. even when you feel the high descend, twitching at the slight overstim, you expect him to stop. but all he does is bury his face in the crook between your shoulder and neck, dragging his teeth across the sensitive skin as the hand not occupied with your pussy, fondles your ass. you lean into him, mewling at his touches when your breath hitches at a new sensation.
“haji, no! it’s dirty!”
the hand at your ass had moved to pet at your puckered hole - completely drenched in your cum, he was sure he could slide a single finger in with ease. and he was right. the feeling of your tight hole being prodded, stretched by the tip of his forefinger, before sucking the entire digit inside - had you throwing your head back in pleasure.
“f-ah-uck! oh shit, nghhh!”
“you gonna cum again for me, baby?”
the feeling of both your ass and pussy being stuffed full of iwa’s fingers is overwhelming. you’re a panting and moaning mess, writhing on top of him. and when the back of your head is thrown back into iwa’s shoulder, all you can see is hazy stars in the sky as you stare up, completely intoxicated by the feeling of his fingers moving inside you - brushing against the thin barrier of skin between your two holes. the familiar pressure in your tummy has you bucking your hips and crying out.
“you’re squeezing my fingers so tight.” he maintains the same steady pace, fucking his fingers into you nice and deep, while working your sensitive clit. its only a few seconds later he hits a particular spot that has you jolting forward, crying out at your sudden release. “shit, that’s right, i can feel you cumming all over my hands again, baby.”
you can barely think straight as your body trembles from the aftershocks of your second orgasm. still in a daze, iwa eases his fingers out of your twitching holes, and you groan at the empty feeling.
“you okay?” iwa asks, wrapping his arm around your waist. you nod, chest heaving as you attempt to steady your breathing. “you think you can cum one more time from my fingers-”
“no!” you grab at his wrists when he moves to play with you again. “i need you inside me, haji. please.”
whatever calm iwa had possessed while pleasuring you had vanished at your words. sticky hands lifted you up by your waist, turning you around to straddle him - while he slightly lowered the back of his seat. lip locked, your hands find themselves wrapped around the nape of his neck, while iwa’s hands grab at your body - stilling your wriggling form as he grinds up into you.
without breaking the kiss, you reach down and ease your fingers under the elastic waistband of his briefs; hand brushing against the tip of iwa’s cock. that earns you a muffled groan as he allows you to hover over him and slide the boxer briefs down his muscled thighs. your mouth salivates at the sight of his cock slapping against his toned stomach. he was easily the biggest you’d ever seen, with a thick vein on the underside, and a red, angry tip leaking pre-cum.
“fuck, you’re so big haji.”
he hisses when your hand touches him, you can barely wrap your fingers around him; and you start to question if he could even fit inside you. iwa notices the slight hesitation in your movements.
“we don’t have to.” he reassures, brushing the hair out of your lust filled eyes. “i can play with you some more, or i can eat you out in the back seat-”
“-haji.” you cut him off, stroke him before lining him at your dripping entrance, grinding the leaking tip across your slit. “i’ve wanted this for so long.” lowering yourself, you gasp at the delicious stretch of his tip entering you. “i’ve wanted you for so long. don’t hold back, give me everything.” and with that, you completely impale yourself on his cock.
“fuck, y/n, i can feel you clamping down on me- shit baby, you gotta move.”
lifting one leg at a time, you shift around off of your knees, steadying yourself on your tip toes; before grabbing onto iwa’s shoulders and starting to slowly ride him. his hands roam across your body freely, loving squeezes trailed in their path, as praise after praise is whispered out to you.
“you take my cock so well, fuck.”
your fingers dig into his shoulder blades as you quicken your pace. bouncing yourself faster on his fat cock, iwa’s attention is drawn to to the way your breasts move in front of him; massaging the soft flesh, and then leaning forward to smush his face between them.
“could stay right here forever.” his muffled voice croons. 
you whimper at the feeling of his hot tongue dragging a wet trail down the valley between your breasts, and you’re certain plum love bites will have bloomed across your chest by sunrise. your arms shoot up to press against the foggy glass of the moon roof above you, palms pressed flat against the steamy window, handprints painted on the transparent screen - as you bounce harder and faster. the lewd sound of your ass slapping against his thighs and of your pussy sucking him in with each stroke; shows how desperate you are to cum again.
“you’ll cum on my cock, won’t you baby? i can feel how close you are, shit, you’re so close aren’t you?”
the way you ride him gradually becomes sloppier the closer you are to cumming, so when he holds your waist and helps you bounce on him, you cry out in relief.
“f-fuck, feels s’g-good, haji! nghh, yes, yes, yes-!”
only as he reaches a hand down to roll your sensitive clit between his index and thumb, do you fall apart on his cock. your velvety walls spasm around him as he continues to fuck you through your high in chase of his own, overstimming you even more as you cream all over him, tongue lolling out. the sheer intensity of your orgasm has you collapsing forward onto his heaving chest, a babbling mess, while he holds you to him.
“you made such a mess on me, baby.” he huffs out.
“h-haji.” you whimper into his neck, arms looped around his. “s’too sensitive, haaa~”
your knees are by his hips, the tops of your feet pressed against his inner thighs, as he rolls his hips into you. large hands slide down your spine, over the curve of your ass to knead the smooth flesh in his palms.
“just hold on to me baby. you got one last one for me, don’t you?” all you can do is nod, releasing an onslaught of mewls and moans. “that’s a good girl, fuck.”
iwa is relentless in pursuit of his own orgasm - fucking into you at a punishing pace that has your mouth jar open in a silent cry, his truck jolting with each snap of his hips. your juices completely drench his cock, allowing him to slide in and out of you with ease, and you’re sure by now your pussy has been shaped out by the imprint of his cock. you can feel him throbbing inside of you, close to his climax; while his fingers dig into your ass shoving you down on his cock, and hitting your sweet spot over and over that you can’t help but gush all over him yet again.
“h-ah-ji, hnghh!” you sob, your body spent and thighs slick with your cum.
iwa only lasts a little longer with the way you were clenching down on him; pulling out of your fucked out pussy, and setting you on his thighs. he fists his cock in his hand, jerking himself a few times before thick, white cum spurts out - coating his entire hand and painting his stomach.
“mmm baby, that was fucking amazing.” he growls out, leaning back into the seat to catch his breath. “d’you feel okay?”
you only hum, entranced by how much cum he spilled. or wasted, you thought to yourself.
“can you reach over to the back and grab the towel in my gym bag, gotta clean us up…” your lack of focus has iwa trailing off. “y/n?”
“we don’t need the towel.”
reaching for the hand covered in his seed, you bring it to your mouth. iwa tries to question what you meant by that, though he’s cut off when you lick a tentative strip across his palm. gathering his cum on your tongue, you swirl his essence around in your mouth, before swallowing. you make a show of taking each finger in your mouth, sucking his cum clean. once his hand is licked clean, you slide down his lap; ready to do the same over his abs.
“you’re so good to me, y/n.” iwa runs his fingers through your hair, and then pats your head. “y/n?” he calls out again, still petting your head just as your about to trace the dips of his stomach with your tongue.
“hmm?”
“y/n? y/n?”
you move back away from him. “what?”
“y/n? oi, y/n? wake up!”
iwa watches as you jolt up from where you had fallen asleep on his lap. makki, who had been hovering over you, moves away as you try to swat at him - a confused look on your face.
“huh?”
“you fell asleep.” makki informs her. “you were interrupting the movie. if you’re that tired, just sleep in one of our rooms.”
lazed out on the other couch, mattsun pipes up; “yeah, you were making these ugly noises and then iwa said you licked his hand, what a weirdo.”
he only clears his throat awkwardly, finding a sudden interest in the beige walls of their living room. he misses the horrified expression on your pretty face, scrunched up in utter embarrassment, before you turn to start arguing with mattsun.
iwa was grateful for the pillow resting over lap, hiding the evident hard-on he was sporting. he wanted to argue with mattsun too, because the sounds you made were definitely far from ugly.
Tumblr media
© 2020 AIIWA. please do not copy, modify or repost my work.
943 notes · View notes
phoebe-delia · 3 years
Text
@julcheninred Jules, you seemed to like the headcanon of Draco singing "Don't Cry For Me Argentina," and I loved your addition of Harry drumming like Angel so much that I just had to explore this little world. I hope you enjoy it. <3
CW: there's a part of one of the songs where a dog dies; it's in the lyrics.
"I had to let it happen, I had to change. Couldn't stay all my life down at heel. Looking out of the window, staying out of the sun," Draco closed his eyes, allowing the water to sluice down his body and wet his hair like rain.
He wasn't in the shower, not really. In his head, he was dressed in his finest attire and standing on the balcony of the Casa Rosada, addressing his beloved descamisados and thanking them for electing his husband the president of Argentina.
"Don't cry for me, Argentina. The truth is, I never left you. All through my wild days, my mad existence; I kept my promise, don't keep your distance." In his head, the crowd was listening, rapt and teary from his moving ballad.
"And all you have to do is look at me to know, that every word...Is true," Draco held the last note, the sound resonating quite well against the tile walls of the shower. As he shampooed his hair, he imagined the swell of the violins, the applause of his grateful public, and the sparkling Argentine night sky.
****
Harry made sure that Draco was well into his shower before he connected his mobile to the speakers and turned up the volume. He pressed play and, while the intro began, grabbed the wooden spoons from the kitchen. He stepped into the living room right on cue, grinning.
"Today for you, tomorrow for me!"
He began lightly drumming on the walls, briefly regretting the absence of a ten-gallon plastic pickle tub to do Angel's song justice.
Alas, needs must.
"It was my lucky day today, on Avenue A, when a lady in a limousine drove my way. She said, 'Darling, be a dear, haven't slept in a year, I need your help to make my neighbor's yappy dog disappear!'"
Harry sang along with Angel, drumming on the coffee table, the back of the couch, the counter, the walls, and the door.
"Today for you, tomorrow for me. Today for you, tomorrow for me!"
Harry felt the beat of the music flow through him, electric and joyful as he recited the comedic lyrics.
"Now who could foretell that it would go so well? But sure as I am here, that dog is now in doggy hell!"
He moved into the kitchen drumming on the fridge and the cabinets.
"Today for you, tomorrow for me! Today for you, tomorrow for me!"
This was the best part—when he could just flow with the music, let himself focus on keeping with the beat, imagining he was wearing Angel's flamboyant costume.
"Today for you, tomorrow...for me!" Harry finished with a flourish, spinning back into the living room with one arm in the air above his head. He landed turned toward the door to the bathroom, which was open to reveal a smirking Draco with a towel wrapped around his waist.
"Having fun?"
Harry turned off the music with a flick of his fingers and raised an eyebrow. "Sí, Evita."
Draco blushed, silent for a moment before he spoke again. "Wanna watch Chicago toni—"
"Yes."
"Good. I'll be Velma and—"
"I'll be Roxie, yes, like usual."
"Okay, yes."
Harry grabbed his coat and keys. "I'll get the curry."
"I'll get dressed and then move the furniture."
Harry smiled as he opened the door. "Good."
"Good." Draco nodded and turned to walk back to the bedroom when he heard the front door close. With Harry gone, he could imagine himself walking the rainy streets of Paris in peace.
"On my own..."
My ask box is empty!! Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).
Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!
37 notes · View notes
a3shithole · 3 years
Note
Hi! If requests are open could i request Masumi with a new reader who just joined the spring truope (who at first is really quiet but when they open up their chaotic side comes out) and he finds himself slowly falling for them and moving on from Izumi?
Bonus if the reader is a meme lord and does the most weird/cursed things for funzies and enjoys making their friends laugh with their stupid shenanigans.
This is such an interesting idea! I feel honored to receive this, thank you for requesting! ⌒°ʚ(ෆ❛ั ᴗ ❛ัʃƪ)ɞ♡°⌒
This will be my third time writing him, and all of them are from requests haha (≡^∇^≡) I honestly had a hard time writing chaotic reader, let alone a meme lord type of person, so I'm sorry in advance that this turns really cringy (^^")
Sorry that I'm slow at doing requests, I was too absorbed into A3!'s last event (Various Vow of Love) haha >///<
Also happy early birthday Masumi! Hope you like this and have a nice day 🌻
Masumi x reader (gender-neutral)
Reader is a new member of Spring Troupe
1294 word
Tumblr media Tumblr media
He's been frowning ever since this morning.
Masumi usually still half-asleep when it's time for morning rehearsal, but his eyes turn wide open, as soon as the Director walks into the room. With a stranger. Closely stand near Izumi.
That stranger is you.
Izumi introduces you as the new member for Spring Troupe from now on. You meekly said your name to everyone in the room. The members of Spring Troupe welcomed you with open arms, making sure you adapt to the new environment feeling comfortable. Except for Masumi.
He despises how physically close you are to the Director on the whole rehearsal. He is jealous of how the Director gave her full attention to you. And he almost tackles you--thanks to Chikage and Itaru who holds him--because you praised how tasty Izumi's curry at lunchtime, and resulting in you getting an extra portion from her.
He hates you as the new rookie who's trying to steal the Director away from him.
You are aware of how Masumi has been staring at you since you arrived here. You just didn't understand what did you do to upset him.
"Don't mind him," you turned your head to the other member of Spring Troupe that's been playing on his phone--Itaru was it?
Easier said than done
You exhaled, not realizing you've been holding your breath. You are shy when you are in a new place, but with the addition of someone having vendetta towards you on the first day?
"Umm... Did I do something wrong to him?" you asked the gamer besides you.
"Nope. It's just him being his usual self," he answered casually while still focusing on attacking a slime creature on his phone.
"He is extremely inflated when it comes to the Director, you see~"
"Infatuate. And he's been like that towards the Director for years now. I'm sorry you're experiencing this on your first day."
You just nod to the foreigner and the playwright as a response. While it's a bit of a relief that it was not your fault for him to stare at you full of hatred, if looks could kill, you'd be dead by now.
You yelped in surprise when you realized Masumi stood beside you, staring you down like a small critter getting cornered by a predator. Before you even open your mouth to ask him, he cut you off with a harsh tone.
"Don't go near the Director."
"Masumi!"
And just like that, he went back to his room.
It was a short sentence coming out from his mouth, yet you felt like part of your soul just left your body. It's going to be such a long journey being on this troupe, you thought.
.
It's been a month since you joined Mankai Company and being part of the Spring troupe. You are mostly silent for the first two weeks, not knowing what to say and only answering stuff if it's directly aimed at you. Masumi still glares at you whenever the Director interacts with you, but that's about it.
But as time goes by, getting a bit more comfortable with everyone on the troupe, doing rehearsal is fun. You start to open up, revealing your true, loud personality to the rest of the members. And with that, Spring Troupe slowly rivals the energy of the Summer Troupe with you in the troupe. Poor Tsuzuru basically got another nuisance to take care of, he felt like he grew more white hair every time watching your shenanigans.
But it was also a fresh atmosphere for the spring troupe. Every rehearsal became so colorful and fun with you around. You love everyone in Mankai, and so do they.
And something changed with Masumi.
Every time you crack some jokes or do some stupid stuff, you do notice he always stares at you. Like, observing your every movement. Not with the ill-intent he does the first few days you join the troupe. Because when you stare back at him, he averted his gaze away from you.
Is he perhaps shy?
Because of that, you have a new mission to do; being besties with Usui Masumi!
"Bruh," you said, poking a certain gamer besides you, "how do you befriend an emo psycho?"
"You don't."
"Man, you're useless."
He throws the towel drenched with his sweats, making you shriek in disgust.
"That is so not pogchamp, dude," you said, throwing the towel back, away from your face to Itaru who is just dabbing.
"Please stop. You two are hurting me," Tsuzuru said from the other side of the room. You and Itaru look at each other and unanimously agree to do an outdated viral dance, earning a loud groan from the playwright.
.
"Masumiii! Check your LIME!" you yelled across the room one day. You've been trying your best to be close with Usui Masumi. And you're not going to lie, but it's so hard, especially with his lack of response in general.
"No."
"But I sent you some banger memes!"
"Don't care."
"It's Director's faves!"
And with the speed of light, he unlocked his phone to see the abomination you sent into his inbox.
"...why is this ugly dog hitting another dog with a baseball bat?"
"That's you."
"...what?"
You scoot closer to him as he scrolls on his phone, looking at all the crap you sent to him. You just laugh and try to explain each individual picture to him. It's amusing to see him so bewildered.
"Why are you sending me all these unfunny pictures?"
"You make friends by sending them memes! I think it's working, don't you think?!"
"No."
"Gah, so cold!"
"Ooh! Is that the Shoes Camel meme?"
You jumped when one of your fellow troupe mates chimed in to see at Masumi's screen, "Close Ronron! But the name's Suez Canal!"
You two start chatting animately about the recent accident-that-ended-up-being-a-meme, while also edging Masumi to also be involved in the conversation. Then the other four members of Spring Troupe slowly join into your conversation.
It feels weird, Masumi thought to himself.
On how natural you lift up the atmosphere in an instant, even though everything that came out of your mouth sounds ridiculous for him.
Maybe he judged you a bit harshly just because...
What, jealousy?
Why?
.
Masumi is confused.
This feeling...
He was so sure that he is so in love with the Director, he even prepared their wedding plan and their honeymoon.
Was.
And then you entered Mankai. And his life.
Never in his life, he felt this conflicted.
Recently he catches himself thinking about you randomly. When listening to a song. Or eating his lunch.
And he feels warm when you're around. The way you talk to him is... different. It doesn't feel like this when he talks to Izumi.
...why was he so obsessed with Izumi to begin with anyway?
Masumi is indeed confused.
"Hey," he jolted from a sudden touch from someone on his shoulder. Turning his head, you are standing behind him, with concern plastered on your face.
"You've been standing here for a long time, are you okay?" he relaxed a bit, "...yeah."
You might be annoying at times, but not the over-bearing type from his view, but you know when to tone down your usual energy, "hmm... just know that if you need any help, I'm here for you. I might be useless, but I'm not as useless as the 'G' in Lasagna!"
He realizes that maybe, he was too naïve for clinging onto what he felt for Izumi. He needs to grow as a person, sure, he loves Izumi. But he now realizes it's not that kind of love. With his newfound feeling towards you, however. It feels different.
For the first time, you see a smile on his face.
Tumblr media
96 notes · View notes
mypunkpansexualtwin · 3 years
Text
Noticing the Little Things
-shows up a week late to Kiss Ryuji Day with Starbucks- I’ve contributed to a fandom event! mo you didn’t contribute shit I’ve contributed! Took a break from Misguided Wingman, so instead of a WIP Wednesday, y’all are getting 6.6k words of fluff instead!
Under a cut cause that’s a little much, and link to AO3 in the reblogs cause tumblr does terrible things to posts with links in them.
Hey, come meet my mom!
Ryuji had sprung the offer on him last minute via dead of the night text. It wasn’t as though he’d been trying to catch Ren off guard intentionally; it was more a matter of this being her first full day off in nearly a month that hadn’t fallen through for one reason or another. Ren had quickly learned that those sorts of days were few and far between, and notoriously difficult to plan around because of it. Even rarer were the days where both Sakamotos’ schedules lined up for a full day of quality time, especially now with the addition of Phantom Thievery. And Ryuji had offered to share this once in a blue moon opportunity with his best friend. Naturally, even as tired as he’d been when the message came through, Ren had jumped at the chance. For once it (mostly) didn’t have anything to do with his crush on his best friend that could have been viewed from space, Ren was just excited to finally meet the woman whose praises Ryuji’d been singing since they met.
The next morning, Ryuji had texted him again uncharacteristically bright and early--especially for a Sunday--hoping to put their heads together for something nice to do for her. He didn’t want her to do a bunch of work on one of her rare days off and Ren didn’t blame him one bit. He pitched the idea of takeout; no effort to cook, no dishes to wash, only trash to take out after. Ryuji shot it down, hesitant to admit that they couldn’t quite afford enough takeout for all three of them this late in the month and even less willing to ask Ren to cover the whole thing. Which meant going out to eat somewhere was probably also a no-go. And then Ren was struck by divine inspiration.
Or rather, he looked down at the breakfast that Sojiro had so kindly prepared for him before Leblanc opened. And then he texted Ryuji.
What if I made curry?
And that was how he ended up spending the rest of his morning at the grocery store, picking through produce with such a critical eye that it would have brought a tear to Sojiro’s. He’d assured Ryuji several times over that it was no trouble, he needed the practice anyway and he’d gotten some sizable bonuses from a couple of his jobs, so the shopping was no issue. Ren sent the list of what he needed and, after a little more convincing, Ryuji had sent back a list of what they didn’t already have in the apartment, as well as a promise to have the kitchen ready when he arrived and to do dishes after all of his friend’s hard work. On top of the rest of his list, Ren added a nice tuna filet for Morgana, who’d be stuck in Yongen all day rather than risk getting anyone in trouble for bringing the not-a-cat to the Sakamoto apartment.
Ren double checked his bags and tried to shake off the feeling that he was missing something while Morgana halfheartedly berated him between bites of fish for being left behind. Halfway down the stairs to the cafe, it hit Ren and he couldn’t help but feel a little dumb for forgetting. His thumbs skated over his phone screen to ask Ryuji a question, only to get a question himself from Sojiro.
“Got everything you need to impress your mother-in-law, kid?” His tone was teasing as he looked over the boy’s armful of groceries. Ren sputtered an objection that was less actual coherent words and more disconnected, indignant noises, red as the bell peppers he’d selected as his caretaker chuckled. His phone buzzed as Ryuji’s answer came in.
“Actually…” Ren managed after the worst of the heat faded from his cheeks. “I was wondering if I could borrow a couple of things?”
-----
“Out.” Ren commanded, brandishing a freshly washed carrot like a dagger and flicking the water off of it at his friend.
“Hey! It’s my kitchen!” Ryuji argued but stepped back anyways with his hands up in a vain attempt to shield himself from the droplets.
“They’re my groceries. Go sit, I’m cooking.” Ren retorted and turned back to the cutting board. Sakamoto-san’s laugh could be heard from the living room, not that that was very far. It was a small apartment and the kitchen and living room weren’t so much two separate rooms as they were one room about the size of Leblanc’s attic interrupted by a short stretch of countertop. When he’d first come in, Sakamoto-san had scooped up the groceries from Ren’s arms before he’d gotten half a word of greeting out, Ryuji had dragged him off for a quick tour of the apartment, and he’d come back to everything he’d need laid out in a neat array next to the stove in the five minutes he’d been distracted.
“He fusses if he doesn’t get to help.” She explained while Ren worked. “He does it to me, too, y’know.” He couldn’t help but wonder with a roll of his eyes where ever could his best friend have gotten that habit from?
“Oh I fuss if I don’t get to help?” The blond asked dryly and then helpfully voiced Ren’s inner sarcastic inquiry: “Wonder where I picked that up?” A smile found its way onto Ren’s face as they continued bantering back and forth while he worked, Sakamoto-san sipping on tea in front of the television and Ryuji leaning on the counter from the living room side to watch his best friend cook.
It was comfortable, but not quite in the same way Leblanc had become; the cafe was a place to rest, to breathe, to hide. His attic bedroom felt undeniably safe, but was somehow paradoxically isolated from the world around it and almost entirely devoid of privacy. The apartment, though… With the sound of the tv providing soft background noise to Ryuji and his mother’s easy conversation and the smell of curry spices filling every corner of the small space, it felt safe in a way that felt like home, in a way the attic hadn’t quite managed yet, in a way his own home hadn’t really felt since he was a little kid. Something tense in Ren’s chest unwound and he hadn’t realized he was humming until Ryuji and Sakamoto-san had stopped talking to listen. It wasn’t even particularly good, at least as far as he was concerned, but it was the only way to get rid of the Velvet Room’s mysterious song when it got stuck in his head like it lived there. The silence stretched for an uncomfortable beat when he realized he had an audience.
“Um.” He glanced up from the frying pan for a moment, then quickly back down to it to hide his blush after meeting two matching sets of wide, brown eyes watching him. Nothing like an unblinking stare to make one self-conscious. “S-sorry. Did I interrupt you two?”
“Oh no, not at all! You have a lovely voice, Ren. Don’t let us stop you.” Sakamoto-san insisted with a kind smile that turned a little too knowing as she glanced over at her son.
“Yeah, man, you ain’t gotta quit ‘cause of us.” Ryuji affirmed, still watching him with a grin and a warm, wide-eyed look that the other boy couldn’t quite put a name to. “And she’s right, you’re pretty good. Hell, maybe we shoulda gone to that karaoke place for real the one time so you could show off.” Heat rose to Ren’s face that had nothing to do with the food he was cooking.
“Well, we could always go back, make that our next celebration after-- uh,” Ren quickly changed course before he accidentally blurted out ‘after the next change of heart’ in front of Sakamoto-san, “after exams. Get everyone together, take turns picking songs, that sort of thing.” Ren suggested. “Of course, that means you’d have to sing, too.”
“No way--!” The blond tried to object before his mother cut him off in her own excitement.
“Oh that sounds so fun!” She grinned more widely, with a mischievous gleam in her eye. Ren had seen an identical look on her son’s face enough times to slightly dread whatever she was about to say. “Maybe you boys could do a duet? I know a few songs that’d--”
“Mommmm!” Ryuji groaned indignantly while Ren smothered a laugh and prayed any color in his cheeks could be written off as a result of leaning over the hot stove.
-----
Ren watched a flurry of movement from where he’d gotten up to stir the curry and break out the pour-over setup. Boss had only let him borrow this one because it had been chipped a few years prior--still functional, but no longer restaurant quality--and because Ren had laid the flattery on especially thick when he begged to use it.
“Ooh, you’re gonna make coffee? I’ll be right back, I know what else’ll go perfect with it!” Ryuji had jumped up and all but bolted for the door. “Be right back!”
“Wait, I was just--” He tried to tell the blond, but the door had already snapped shut before he could finish, “--setting it up.” He sighed and offered a helpless shrug to Sakamoto-san. “It’s supposed to go with the curry, but that’s going to be simmering for a while.”
Sakamoto-san chuckled and smiled fondly in the direction her son had disappeared. “You know how excitable he can be, and he’s been looking forward to introducing us for a couple of months now.” She stood and stretched with a groan, then walked over and leaned on the counter. Ren could practically feel her gaze on him as he worked; even with as warm and casual as the look on her face was, something in her eyes felt scrutinizing. He was being sized up with no idea as to why. Sakamoto-san’s smile stayed in place, as gentle as before when she asked, “why not brew us each a cup anyway? Ryuji’s been raving about the one you made him and how well it’d go with old lady Ueda’s ginger peach danishes since the beginning of summer. And since he’s even less of a coffee drinker than I am, I’m eager to see the master at work.”
“If you want to see the master at work, you’ll have to come by Leblanc and meet So-- um, Sakura-san.” He explained with a nervous, slightly forced chuckle of his own. After a moment of internal debate, Ren nodded. “But I did bring enough for everyone to have a couple of cups. Couldn’t hurt to see if you like it as much as Ryuji does. Maybe I’ll impress you just as much, Sakamoto-san.” That had been exactly why he was doing this, why he had worked so hard to convince Boss to part with even a little of his cafe equipment.
She barked a laugh at that and startled Ren enough that he nearly knocked over the bag of coffee he’d traded away a full week of work for. “Two things. Three, actually. One, please just call me Hana. Because, two, I’ve been impressed with you for months, kid. And, three, don’t beat yourself up if you can’t impress me as much as Ryuji ‘cause that’s gonna be an awfully high bar to clear. I don’t know exactly what you did to do it, but you pulled him out of…” Hana-san trailed off with a sigh, and then continued with a slightly thick edge to her voice, “out of a pretty dark place, y’know. My boy adores you.”
With that and the overwhelming warmth in her eyes, Ren could feel his own throat tightening, but he managed to choke out a weak, “O-okay.” And then he couldn’t force anything else out. How were you supposed to react to hearing your probably-unrequited-crush’s mom tell you that said crush adored you? As if she could read the question on his face, she reached over to clap him on the shoulder encouragingly.
“Don’t worry about sayin’ anything, My sunshine’s told me you’re not much of a talker. Just make sure you keep showin’ him how much he means to you too, alright?”
“I will. Thank you, Hana-san.” He finally replied and got the same annoyed frown he’d gotten from Ryuji two days into their friendship, when he’d met his new nickname with Ryuji’s family name. Although responding to Renren with Sakamoto back then had been an attempt at teasing on Ren’s part, calling Sakamoto-san by just her given name felt like too much.
The door creaked open and pulled her attention off of Ren as Ryuji came bouncing through, nearly forgetting to kick off his shoes in his excitement to deliver the prized pastries.
“You weren’t kidding when you said this one was formal, sunshine.” She sighed. “And damn, I’ve never seen you make that trip so fast. You that excited to show off to your Renren? ” Ryuji squawked in offense and Ren could feel his face flame at how she’d emphasized his nickname.
“N-nah, he could probably sense that I was just about to ask about embarrassing baby pictures is all.” Ren deflected as he went back to prepping their coffee.
The only thing better than the look of utter betrayal Ryuji gave him was the one of unbridled delight on Hana-san’s face.
-----
Dinner had passed cheerfully, if somewhat raucously, as Hana-san and Ryuji regaled their guest with stories about Ryuji’s childhood, and the boys entertained her with stories about their time together since the beginning of the school year. Ren felt himself opening up more and more easily as the meal had gone by and even shared a few stories from his time working at Leblanc, as well as the specifics behind balancing the night’s coffee and curry. As per usual, Ryuji didn’t really seem to be absorbing the specifics, but seemed more than happy to watch his friend talk about something he was enthusiastic about. Ren was even openly laughing by the end of dinner while he and Ryuji recounted the time they had met up for lunch after separately incurring Ushimaru’s wrath by falling asleep in class, then bursting out laughing at each other’s identical chalk bruises on their foreheads. They didn’t mention that each of them still had the other’s half of the subsequent selfie set as their phone’s home screen.
Afterwards, the atmosphere in the apartment settled a little when Ryuji shooed both his mother and his best friend out of the kitchen to sort out leftovers and wash dishes. In the meantime, Ren and Hana-san sat in comfortable quiet in the living room while half-watching the talk show on tv and enjoying the last of the coffee and danishes. Ryuji had been spot-on, Ren noted, the flavor paired beautifully with what he’d been secretly calling the Kidd Blend since he first got his right hand man’s seal of approval. As per usual, even if Ryuji didn’t have a head for the specifics, his instincts were unparalleled.
“He’s got good taste, right?” Hana-san remarked as she watched Ren’s thoughtful chewing. He nodded. Again with that uncanny ability to read him; it would have been unsettling if he hadn’t already been used to it from Ryuji and just figured that she was where he got it from. She cracked a smile after taking another sip from her coffee and said, “I gotta admit, I was skeptical when he said it was good enough to go with our favorite dessert. Figured he was just talking you up again ‘cause I’ve never had a cup of coffee I actually liked. I only drink it if I need the caffeine fix. But this? This is damn good.” Hana-san drained the cup and let out a satisfied sigh before she settled back a little further into her seat.
At that point Ren had been keeping a running tally of how many little gestures and features Hana-san and her son had in common. Despite their differences physically--where Ryuji was tall and all lean, hard lines, Hana-san was considerably shorter than her son and built soft and sturdy--there was no denying they were mother and son with as many quirks and features as they had in common. The same warm, brown eyes that tilted upwards just a little at the outer corners; the same bright smile that lit up their entire faces and laughter that filled every corner of the room; the same animated manner of speaking, all open expression and wild gestures to tell a story; the same bright quality to their voices, loud and boisterous without being overwhelming. The same way of making him feel like he’d known them all his life within the span of a few hours. That last one was about when he’d lost count, and therefore couldn’t say where he was when he noted that even with the difference in their specific posture, the two even relaxed the same way when they sat. Ryuji tended to sprawl out and Hana-san seemed more comfortable curling up when she sat, but they both had something loose and open about the way they sat, something oddly approachable.
“You’re always welcome to come by Leblanc, Hana-san.” Ren said with a smile, then added somewhat proudly, “Although I’ll have to direct Boss since Ryuji only gets coffee when I make it.”
“We’ll see if I get some time. And seriously, kid, just Hana is fine. I’ve heard enough about you from Ryuji that I feel like I already know you.” She insisted.
“Wh- really?” His head snapped up from his drink. He knew that he and Ryuji were best friends, probably the closest friends that either of them had ever had. But he hadn’t actually thought about the fact that that meant Ryuji talked about him to other people. It was probably silly the way something that obvious could warm him from the inside and fill his chest with butterflies, but it did.
“Oh yeah. Honestly, I knew I liked you before he ever even said your name. It was like out of nowhere his grades started picking back up, I wasn’t getting any more calls about him skipping classes, he seemed motivated again, like he hadn’t been since…” Hana-san looked over at Ryuji, busy and oblivious in the kitchen, as her face darkened and her voice dropped before she continued, “since before that sonofabitch broke my boy’s leg.” The bitterness passed after a moment and she fixed Ren with a gaze brimming with that same overwhelming warmth and kindness from before. “I knew that whoever it was that brought my boy’s smile back… that was someone I wanted to meet, y’know? That was someone I wanted to thank. So, thanks Ren. You brought my sunshine back.”
“I… You’re welcome.” Ren mumbled. “It’s not…” He stopped himself from saying it wasn’t a big deal because that definitely wasn’t true. “I mean, he did just as much for me.” Then he took a sip from his coffee, at a loss for what else to say.
“I’m sure he did, he’s a good boy. But this is me thanking you, not him.” She shrugged as she watched him drink and her smile went crooked as her voice took on a teasing lilt. “Still, I guess if Hana is too informal for you, you could always just call me Mom. Might as well get in the habit now, right?”
So. Hot coffee coming out of one’s nose was very painful. That was the immediate sensation that momentarily distracted Ren from the shock of Hana-san’s statement. She jumped up in surprise as he choked on his drink, then quickly grabbed a dish towel from the nearby counter and handed it to him. He coughed a few times and wiped at the surprisingly little amount of coffee that he’d gotten on himself, before finally clearing his throat and wheezing out, “Excuse me?”
Hana-san was very clearly trying not to laugh at him while she gave him another of those warm smiles that just confused him this time. “I know you two are dating, I’m not blind, kid.” Ren’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Hard. It prompted another coughing fit and Hana-san couldn’t hold back from laughing this time. “Even if I was, I still would’ve picked up on it. You two are too obvious. It’s sweet, really. The way you light up when you’re watchin’ him? And the first time I finally got your name out of him, you were suddenly the only thing he wanted to talk about. ‘ Hey mom, I’m hanging out with Ren today, don’t worry ‘bout dinner for me, we’re gonna get ramen. Man, can’t believe Ren’s never been to a real arcade before. His hometown didn’t really have one, so I’m gonna show him my favorite tomorrow. Hey mom, me and Ren are going to the gym today, yeah we’re gonna be running, yeah I’m running again, didn’t I tell you? Nah, I don’t need anything for my birthday, I know money’s tight this week and Renren’s taking me fishing so it’s all good. Hey, did you know Ren hung the moon? Ain’t that sweet of him? I should do somethin’ to say thanks.’ Like I said, kid. Ryuji adores you.” Hana finished softly. Almost ruefully, but he missed that part. Ren’s head was spinning, out of sheer confusion and excitement and terror and hope that he’d been aggressively stomping down for months, as well as the fact that all the blood in his body seemed determined to rush to his face all at once.
“He… told you we’re dating?” He managed hoarsely, eyes flicking to Ryuji still washing dishes and still completely oblivious to their conversation with the water running. Did… Had Ryuji confessed to him without Ren realizing? Had those moments he’d dismissed as wishful thinking, bein’ free and my place is next to you, actually been what he hadn’t dared even hope for?
Had he been dating Ryuji Sakamoto this entire goddamn time without even realizing it?
“Well, no. At first I thought it was because he was nervous about coming out to me. I did what I could to let him know it wasn’t an issue, and since he never really changed how he talked about you, I figured he must have just been so excited to have such a wonderful boyfriend that he just... forgot to tell me.”
Ren barked out a rough laugh and then winced at the way it grated on his scalded sinuses. “Then that would make two of us, Hana-san. If I had realized this was that kind of ‘come meet my mom,’ I would’ve convinced Sojiro to let me bring one of the top-shelf blends.” A hollow laugh escaped him as Hana-san’s face fell.
“Oh. Oh… Ah shit, I’m so sorry! I went and made things awkward with him now, haven’t I?” She winced apologetically and looked down at the dishtowel when Ren handed it back. “And wasted that fantastic coffee on top of it, too. You’re sure you’re okay?” Ren waved the apology off.
“It’s fine, please don’t worry about it, Hana-san.” She frowned at him and he finally relented. “Hana. I just... have a couple questions for him now. That I have no idea how I’m gonna ask.” He ran a hand through his hair and glanced back at Ryuji again, who was nearly done cleaning up the kitchen.
“Well, good luck when you do. But I don’t think you’re gonna need it.” She assured him with a wink and a gentle clap on the shoulder. “So, if that wasn’t the top shelf stuff, what was it? Besides still pretty damn killer, obviously.”
“Huh? Oh. Second from the top. Still took some serious convincing and I’ll be working behind the counter at Leblanc all week to make up for it.” Ren flashed Hana a tired smile. “Worth it, though. Every non-coffee-drinker I impress is a win in my book.”
Her laugh in response took the sting out of his embarrassment. And his slightly burnt throat. “Well then, guess I will have to find a minute to come by, enjoy me some coffee, curry, and a captive audience.” Hana grinned and Ren couldn’t help but return it.
“I’ll look forward to the company.”
-----
Rather than walk straight to the closest station, Ren and Ryuji had decided to take the scenic route and loop through a nearby park once first. Ren stuck close to the blond, given that he was a lot more familiar with the area as one of his go-to running practice routes. That and, while it was refreshingly cool for Ryuji outside the apartment, Ren ran colder than his friend and was starting to get uncomfortably chilly. As if on cue, Ryuji fell into step right next to him and threw an arm around his shoulder, and Ren felt himself immediately relax into the touch to leech his right hand man’s body heat.
“I’m really glad you finally got to meet my mom. Glad you hit it off with her, gotta admit I was kinda nervous at first.” Ryuji finally said.
“Really? Why?”
“Well you know after my old man took off, it was just me ‘n her, yeah?” Ren nodded. “Even when I had other friends before… everything, Mom was always my best friend. Lame, right?” Ryuji gave a halfhearted, self-deprecating laugh. Ren nudged his shoulder a little more firmly against the blond, not willing to let the disparagement pass uncontested.
“Not at all, she’s pretty great. Wish I was half as close with my folks as you two are.”
“Right. Yeah, she is. Anyways, yeah, mom was always my best friend. So when you turned up--and it’s not like she said anything so I could be wrong--but when you turned up I think she was a little jealous? Not like tellin’ me not to hang out with you or anythin’, she’s been real glad to see me with friends again! But I was kinda worried she felt…” The blond trailed off, waving his free hand vaguely as he tried to come up with the right word.
“Pushed aside?” Ren supplied.
“Exactly! So even after I knew she’d warmed up to you after hearin’ about you so much, I was kinda nervous that she wouldn’t get along with you. So yeah, I’m glad you guys hit it off.”
“I’m glad, too.” He couldn’t help but wonder if Hana had told Ryuji what she’d told him, how she knew she liked Ren as soon as Ryuji started getting back on his feet again. There was no way she’d told him she was certain they were dating, although that probably would have made bringing it up easier for Ren, if no less awkward. It wasn’t as though he could just blurt out ‘hey are we dating, your mom was pretty convinced I’m your boyfriend and I’m really hoping she was right’. Well okay, he could if he could work up the nerve, but that was a pretty big ‘if.’
“Hey.” Ren could hear the frown in Ryuji’s voice and didn’t have time to react before his glasses were being tugged off his face and tucked into the collar of the other boy’s shirt. “You’re doin’ that thing again, where you’re overthinkin’ somethin’ and you disappear behind your damn glasses. What’s up?”
Ren blinked up at Ryuji a few times, barely registering that, huh, that was a habit of his wasn’t it, before the words “Why sunshine?” fell out of his mouth.
“Huh?” Ryuji fixed him with a puzzled look that shifted into one of flushed embarrassment as the question registered. “Oh, right, the nickname. Uh, my hair, mostly.”
“Makes sense. This is gonna sound dumb, but even though I know you bleach it, I was still surprised that your mom’s brunette.” Ren admitted. “I guess part of me was expecting her to be blonde, too.”
“I was actually aimin’ for her color the first time we bleached mine.” Ryuji admitted, then frowned like he hadn’t meant to say anything.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I didn’t… I wasn’t always so gung-ho about the whole ‘fine, you’re gonna call me a punk, I’ll give you an effin’ punk’ thing, y’know? That didn’t really click all the way into place ‘til I got Kidd.” The blond took a slightly shaky breath and exhaled deeply before shooting his friend a questioning glance. Ren nodded for him to continue. He wasn’t going to push and Ryuji knew that, but he was definitely curious. “Right. So, this was back when my leg was still healin’ last year. Had a rough day on it, came home feelin’ like ten kindsa shit, like bad enough I went straight to the bathroom and threw up I hurt so damn bad. And as I’m washin’ my face after, I catch how my face looks in the mirror and… and I look like just as much shit as I feel.” Ren could feel how sharply Ryuji spat the hollow, bitter laugh before he continued, “specifically, I looked just like my old man whenever he was hungover. Effin’ hated it, seein’ a face I had damn near blocked out ‘cause it’d been so long since I saw it just starin’ back at me from the mirror.” Ren wrapped his arm around his best friend’s shoulders the same way Ryuji’s was draped across his, then gave his best shot at a comforting squeeze.
Ryuji shot him a crooked smile and brightened as he kept talking. “Anyways, I told Mom what happened and asked if we could dye it the same color as hers. And she was totally down for it. So she went out, got a bleach kit, annnnnd when we used it, we totally overshot it. I lost track of time and turned my hair bright freakin’ yellow and patchy as hell, too,” he laughed. “And man, we laughed harder than we had in months at that. She spent the rest of the night callin’ me sunshine to mess with me, but it was nice seein’ her really smile again, y’know? So when she asked me the next day what kind of dye I wanted to cover it up with, I told her to grab more bleach and we’d try and even it out cause the blond grew on me. And honestly? The name did, too.” Ryuji shook Ren’s shoulder in warning. “But don’t tell her I said that.”
“My lips are sealed. It suits you, though. The name,” Ren affirmed and ruffled his hand through the shock of surprisingly soft, blond hair, “and the look.” Ryuji swatted his hand away with a laugh and let it settle back on his shoulder.
“Yeah. Long as I can get away with it, I’m keepin’ it.” Ryuji stretched and fixed Ren with a look. “Aight, now what were you actually thinkin’ about?”
“Uh, w-well.” Shit. Nothing else came to mind through the haze of mild panic that struck Ren. No excuses, no delays, no deflections. Oh, to hell with it, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Time to just rip the bandage off. “Your mom thinks we’re dating and you just forgot to tell her because you got caught up in being excited about it.”
“WHAT?!” Ryuji yelped and jumped back like he’d been burned. Not the best reaction, but Ren was already determined to just get it all out.
“Yeah. And as soon as she put it like that, I suddenly wasn’t sure that I just… hadn’t realized I’d accepted a confession at some point.” He explained, eyes fixed on the path in front of them. Ryuji laughed, high and nervous, bordering on slightly hysterical.
“Wh-when would I have even--”
“My place is next to you.” Ren’s heart was hammering in his chest hard enough that he was worried it might crack a rib or five.
“...oh. Right. Okay, yeah, that’s… that’s fair.” Ryuji had stopped walking and was frowning at the concrete as he scuffed the toe of his shoe at it. “So you been tryin’ to let me down easy or somethin? Don’t worry about it, dude, that wasn’t…” He trailed off and Ren finally turned to face him. The pang that squeezed his heart left him breathless when he saw the look of utter disappointment on Ryuji’s face. Ren was frozen, even as something in the back of his head screamed at him to fix it before Ryuji got the wrong idea. The blond straightened up with a laugh that sounded more like a scoff and ran a hand through his hair. “Man, that explains all the ‘you know you can tell me anything’ conversations she’s been tryin’ to have lately. I was worried she’d caught on about the Phantom Thief stuff, but she just… God, do I even wanna know what you told her?”
Ren practically jumped at the opening. “I told her if I’d known it was that kind of ‘hey come meet my mom’ that I would have brought better coffee.” He tried to look his best friend in the eye as he confessed, but just… couldn’t. Better to focus on getting the words out however he could. “I haven’t been trying to figure out how to let you down easy, kind of the opposite, actually.” He did his best to ignore the quiet intake of breath that got, or the way Ryuji tensed in his peripheral vision. “I’ve been working up the courage to ask and bracing myself for when you shot me down. I… I really like you.”
“...forreal?” Ryuji’s voice was soft with disbelief.
“Yeah.” Ren’s voice cracked, nerves finally getting the better of him. But he could at least answer, even if he still couldn’t look the other boy in the eye.
“You… You like me? Like, like-like me?”
“Yes. Have for a while, now. I might... “ Ren cleared his throat and tried again. “I might be a little past just like at this point, honestly.”
A breathless, disbelieving chuckle followed by, “Seriously?”
“Mhm.” A stiff nod.
“Why?” Ryuji’s tone had escalated from disbelief to full-on incredulity, sapping away all of Ren’s nerves in favor of sheer indignance when he whipped around to his best friend.
“How could I not?!” Ren nearly shouted, just self-aware enough to be glad they were alone. “You’re brave, so goddamn brave and so goddamn kind, protecting people--total strangers, sometimes--and expecting nothing back! You’re ridiculously good-looking and have an amazing smile and the best laugh I’ve ever heard, not to mention you’re just so damn compassionate? Quick to help people and even quicker to apologize when you mess up, even with just the little mistakes, and you always mean it and try to do better. And I’ve never in my life met someone as loyal as you, never had someone that I could rely on the way I rely on you!” Ren ranted, slightly light-headed from how quickly the words just poured out of him. “For fuck’s sake, you saved my life when I was just some guy off the street! The Phantom Thieves wouldn’t exist at all without you, and I… I would have spent the rest of the year, maybe even the rest of my life hiding if I hadn’t met you--”
“Hey.”
“Huh?” When had Ryuji stepped so close? How had Ren not noticed those warm, calloused hands cupping his jaw and tipping his head back up to look back at a face that wore an achingly-sweet expression of pure admiration, tempered only by the hint of apprehension at the corners of those warm, brown eyes Ren was such a sucker for?
“I’m gonna kiss you now. Izzat okay?”
“Please.” Ren whispered as his heart jumped up into his throat and Ryuji’s flushed face drew closer.
Both boys’ eyes fluttered shut at the first brush of lips, soft and deliberate. The second was just as gentle, just as careful, even as Ryuji’s fingers twitched against Ren’s jaw like it was taking all of his self control not to just dive in. Like he’d been thinking about how to do it right, planning it for a while, and that thought made Ren’s stomach flip. He slid one hand up the nape of Ryuji’s neck and buried his fingers in his hair at the third kiss, and wrapped his free arm around the blond’s waist to pull him closer partway through the fourth. From there, he lost count. It was the seventh or eighth kiss that found him pressed up against a nearby tree, and something like the thirteenth before nerves gave way to excitement and one of them deepened the kiss. He stopped counting entirely after the cautious sweep of Ryuji’s tongue over his lower lip temporarily shorted out his higher brain functions and pulled an embarrassingly needy sound from the back of his throat. Somewhere in the distantly coherent part of his brain, Ren made a mental note to start buying gum or mints because coffee-and-curry breath was… not great for kissing. It still took the two of them several minutes to break apart because kissing Ryuji, finally actually kissing him, was so much better than he’d imagined, even after months of daydreaming.
“So…” Ren sighed against the corner of Ryuji’s mouth, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page, no room for confusion--”
“Oh my god Renren, seriously?!” The words didn’t have any bite, being equal parts incredulity and laughter as Ryuji shoved gently at Ren’s shoulder.
“I just wanna be sure!” Ren laughed right back.
“Are you effin’ serious, how can you not be-- fine.” Ryuji pulled him into a tight hug, peppering his face with kisses as he spoke. “Ren Amamiya,” kiss, “will,” kiss, “you be,” kiss, “my,” kiss, “boyfriend?”
“Yes.” Ren turned his head to catch another kiss that Ryuji had aimed at his temple, sliding his tongue into the blond’s mouth and kissing him hard enough that his best friend was scarlet when he pulled away. “I would love to.”
Then he kissed Ryuji again. And again. And again.
-----
Eventually, Ren and Ryuji had broken apart long enough to return his glasses and get him on a train back to the cafe. He had been grinning like a dork for the entire ride and practically floated back into Leblanc when he got back, earning a weird look from Morgana on the counter. Sojiro was too busy to notice, nearly done cleaning up with most of the dishes already put away and the next day’s curry prepped and simmering. Ren stepped in, grabbed the washcloth off the side of the sink and started wiping down the counter.
“I can finish cleaning, you go ahead and get home to Futaba.” He insisted.
“Well you’re in a good mood. I take it you impressed the mother-in-law?” Boss teased.
“Yep, I think I did!” Ren chirped from behind the counter, then tried not to laugh. Sojiro did a double take and his face flickered through several expressions at once--sly and teasing, smug triumph, confusion, recognition, and further confusion--as he realized his ribbing hadn’t landed like it had just that afternoon.
Eventually he let out a “hmph” before probably deciding not to ask. “Don’t forget to lock up, and put back everything you borrowed, alright? I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ren waved as the door jangled shut behind him and hummed cheerfully as he worked.
“I take it you two idiots finally figured it out?” Morgana asked and Ren only grinned. At that point his face was starting to hurt from smiling so much. “Blech, glad I missed out.” The cat stretched languidly before hopping down and trotting up the stairs. “Congratulations, though. Taste notwithstanding, I’m happy for you two.”
“So you don’t want the play-by-play?” Ren called after him.
“I will steal your bed and make you sleep in a booth!”
109 notes · View notes
solarsunsimagines · 2 years
Text
Miscarriage
Tumblr media
Pairing: Corbyn Besson x Female!Reader Warnings: Miscarriages, Sadness Request: Nope
MASTERLIST
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
TW - if you aren't comfortable reading about miscarriages please don't read this, there aren't any majorly graphic scenes but just in case
Your Pov (you're 23)
Corbyn and I had been dating for about 5 years when this happened, only about a year had gone by, even if it feels like a lifetime ago. We were both 22 at this point and I have always regretted my actions during this time period.
~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~
I don't know why I feel so shit. I feel as if I could throw up at any moment. It must be food poisoning, or the fact that I'm missing Corbyn - he's on tour with his band again - those have to be the only explanation, right?
~~~~~~~~~time skip~~~~~~~~~
It's been two weeks since this whole feeling sick thing happened and it's not getting any better, if anything it's only progressing. I think might ask my mother if she could get me a doctor appointment. I walk down the stairs - where my mom is making dinner- to go and ask her if she could.
"Hi mom." I say to my mother as I walk into the kitchen.
"Hello dear." she says as she turns around from the stove to greet me.  she then walks off to get some kind of seasoning or spice for the food she was currently making.
"Whatcha making?" I say to her in a singy-song voice, because I was starting and she won't let me eat until dinner.
"Some curry, extra spice just how you like it." she says cheerfully.
Usually I would jump at the chance for curry but now, just the name of it makes me feel sick to my stomach.
"Well, have a whiff" she says encouragingly.
So to make her happy, I lift the lid off of the pot and take a nice long sniff at the spicy meal. And soon enough I wish I hadn't, because as soon as I inhaled the spiciness of the mixture in the pot, my stomach yelled "NOPE" and I felt everything coming up. I sprinted toward the bathroom but just as I left the room I heard my mother say.
"I know my cooking is bad but I didn't know it was that bad."
After I cleaned myself up, I went back into the kitchen and said sorry to my mom and told her that it wasn't her food that made me sick, it was that I was sick for the previous 2 weeks. This is when I finally asked her to get me an appointment, which she happily agreed to.
~~~~~~~another time skip~~~~~~
Finally I'm going to the doctor to find out what is wrong with my insides.
We are now waiting for the doctor in the examination room.
"Hello there, I'm doctor Graham. what seems to be the problem?" he said
"Well, the last couple of weeks I've been feeling really sick and when I smell some things it makes me very sick and I feel like I need to throw up all the time." I said back.
"Ok well it might just be the flu but I'll run some tests just to be sure." He said
Once he was done with the tests - taking blood mostly a he walked out of the room, before re-emerging a few minutes later.
"Well it looks like you don't have the flu." he said quite shocked.
"Then what do I have? It isn't deadly is it?" I ask starting to worry.
"No, but I do think if I tell you in front of your mother, it might be deadly for you" he said still staring at the paper in his hand.
"Just spit it out." my mother said.
"You're pregnant." he said.
"What?" i said quietly with widened eyes.
"WHAT?" my mother yelled.
"Three months to be exact." he said.
after the appointment and a rather long, and very awkward, car ride home, my mother raced into the house to tell my father about my sins.
They eventually ended up giving me a two hour lecture on why sex is bad and about how I have to now take responsibility for what I have done.
But all that was going through my mind was how I was gonna tell Corbyn.
~time skip to her first ultrasound~
After a few days my parents calmed down about the whole baby thing and now they are really supportive. I still haven't told Corbyn because he was still on tour and I felt like I should tell him in person.
We are currently in the waiting room at the doctors office ready to go to my first ultrasound.
Finally we get Called into the examination room and I am told to lift my shirt up and I do so.
The doctor the squeezed a blue (very cold) goo onto my stomach and finally uses the wand thingy to look at the baby.
But after a few minutes he puts the wand thing down and turns to me with a sad look.
"I'm sorry I can't find a heartbeat it seems as if you may have had a miscarriage." he said. Needless to say I was in shock.
I just stared at him for a while until my mom finally pulled me out of the room and into the car.
Throughout the car ride we don't speak there is just the hum of a song playing in the background.
As we arrive home I run up to my room, ready to break down and that's exactly what I did.
What am I gonna tell Corbyn? Will I even tell him?
I don't know what to do
And that's when I heard a knock at my door, and someone runs into my room and yells "SURPRISE!"
I turn around and see Corbyn standing there with his arms outstretched for me and so I run into them. He pulled away from the hug, after a few minutes.
"Why were you crying, babe?" he asked worried.
And that's when I did the thing that I regret most in life.
"I was just crying because I missed you so much." I lie.
"Well I'm here now don't worry, baby girl."
The mention of a baby, brought tears to my eyes, but Corbyn didn't know the real reason Behind my tears and he never will.
20 notes · View notes
kotosnoozy · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
「fourteen」 chapter 1
"Yuri did confess to me about one crush. First one he ever had, I’d wager, from how nervous he seemed. I had expected it to be Lady Estellise here,” Hanks says, the corners of his eyes crinkling mischievously as she flusters, “but the one detail he did give me certainly ruled that out quick.” “O-oh?” Estelle stammers. “Mmm, well. Apparently whoever they are, they’re significantly older than him. About 14 years, I think he said.”
On the nature of Yuri's first crush.
He hadn’t thought much of it at first.
Hanks’s fond babbling about Yuri over their extremely well-earned dinner is incredibly revealing about the usually cool-headed leader of their motley crew. The old man proves himself a riveting story-teller, keeping their entire party entertained for hours on end despite the incredibly long and taxing 48 sleepless hours they’ve had.
(‘Though there was almost a permanent sleep in there for some of us,’ Raven finds himself thinking morbidly, before digging his bitten-down nails as deep into his ankles as he can to distract himself)
It feels like the only time any of them stop smiling and laughing is to take another mouthful from their bowls of curry, piled high from the seemingly endless and eternal pots of the stuff in the knight’s mess hall (or in Rita’s case, to test out another formula against the system Alexei’s locked the princess into - luckless so far, but she’s yet to lose determination).
Hanks has provided all sorts of anecdotes: the adventures of a baby Yuri who had just learned to walk, quicker to his feet than Flynn but still only babbling in response to the younger’s full fledged scolding - their dynamic had formed incredibly early on, it seemed; fond recollections of helping him to learn to bind properly, their first real bonding experience that had endeared them to each other as adoptive-grandfather-and-grandson; prideful recounts of Yuri’s development from childhood cynophobia into a renowned dog-lover, of all the other little things Yuri had been scared of as a child and grown out of in time (and those he hadn’t - Raven makes a few mental notes for later reference); all the fights Yuri and Flynn had gotten into over the years, and the brief interlude where they had dated in their teens (‘If anything,’ he laughs, ‘the bickering became even more frequent at that point - thank heavens they didn’t last!’); and of course, everyone’s old favourite - that one time 2 years ago when he’d thrown Adecor into the river on tax day.
Raven’s heard that one on a number of occasions from all four of the people who’d been present when it occurred - it somehow never gets any less funny.
While most of Brave Vesperia and it's honorary members are thrilled to learn more about their favourite rebel, Yuri himself is less than happy about Hanks laying out his life story for everyone to see. It's plain on his face - the grimace of a man who appreciates how much his parents love him but would really prefer they didn't tell his date about the time he streaked naked through the town and peed in a fountain at 5 years old. His embarrassment is palpable, a pink glow to his ears that slowly spreads to his cheeks the longer and more intimate Hanks’ stories become.
It’s as he brings up Yuri’s childhood dream of joining the knights so he could sweep a princess off her feet, pointedly winking in Estelle’s direction, that their so-called fearless leader bolts to his feet. He spins on his heel, making a beeline to the other side of the room, and plonks himself violently between a bewildered Adecor and Boccos, immediately thrown from their confusion into annoyance as Yuri’s food slops all over both of them.
His previous dining companions merely snicker in his wake, Hanks chuckling fondly.
“He’s always been so easily riled, that boy. If this is how flustered he gets over just you lot hearing all this then I can’t even imagine how he’ll be when he finally shacks up with someone.’
“Wait, but didn’t you say he dated Flynn when they were younger?” Karol asks, head cocking to one side.
“Well between you, me and our gatepost friends here,” the old man says, leaning in - they all follow suit, as Hanks’ eyes pointedly glance over to Flynn, “I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings if he hasn’t realised, but I always got the impression that Yuri was far less invested in their relationship than Flynn. It was Flynn who asked him out, after all.”
“My, that does surprise me. Yuri’s always seemed like he’d be the more proactive of the two when it comes to romance.” Judy muses.
Hanks raises his eyebrows, thin lips twisting into an uneasy frown.
“Wait a minute,” Rita says, leaning even further forward. “You’re not saying Yuri never had feelings for him are you?”
He winces, gaze averting. Raven feels his eyebrows shoot into his hairline.
“They’ve always loved each other, of course. But the tone of that love seems to differ between them. Their relationship was what happened when they tried to figure that out, it seems, but ultimately…”
“They just weren’t compatible as partners of that type?”
“Right.” he nods to Estelle. “In all honesty, Yuri might give off the air of someone with considerable relationship experience, but it’s Flynn who attracts more attention. And seems more interested in others in turn.”
Raven finds his gaze wandering between the two in question - Flynn has managed to find himself eating amidst a small crowd, knights and lower quarter folks alike, all of them doting on him and telling him stories, and him listening attentively to each of them in turn. Yuri, meanwhile is… wrestling with all three of the ex-Schwann Brigade’s most prominent knights simultaneously. Astounding.
“Yeah that tracks.” he finds himself murmuring, nails scratching through the chest hair that rises above the collar of his shirt. Even if Flynn wasn’t the most eager to please others between the two, the young man radiates a natural charm that draws others to him like a moth to a flame - it’s hard to forget how he was upstaged the time he took him drinking in Dahngrest. Yuri, meanwhile, has a proclivity for trouble and a tendency to stick his foot in his mouth with his wit. While endearing, he can’t imagine it’s the most efficient for pursuing new connections - even if he’s managed to attract all of the motley crew Raven’s currently sat with.
“So Flynn’s a secret ladies’ man and Yuri, despite all the pomp and swagger, has absolutely no game?” Rita snickers, casting a wry look across the room at Yuri that he’s too distracted to notice.
“Well I don’t know about that. Flynn’s a man’s man if nothing else, never shown interest in women to my knowledge. But… I don’t think Yuri’s ever actually been interested in dating , full stop.”
“No way, really?!” Karol barks. The exclamation draws the attention of the groups sat closest to them, even Flynn, momentarily, before they go busily back to their meals. Flynn’s expression as he looks at them is pondering, almost puppy-like, and Karol’s panic is practically visible as they watch him seemingly wrestle with whether to come over and see what the fuss is about. Then the woman at his side taps a hand to his elbow gently, and his manners win out - she successfully steals his attention back around, all of his interest in their discussion completely forgotten.
“Well. It certainly seems that way anyway. I remember him asking me, back when they dated, how he would know if his feelings for someone were romantic. He didn’t seem to understand my answer very well."
“That’s unexpected. I suppose my advances have all been vain!” Patty whines. Raven finds himself snickering - whether Patty’s affections are genuine or not is one mystery he's yet to solve, but her playing it up is never any less entertaining or fun to tease.
“Though now that I think about it… he did confess to me about one crush. First one he ever had, I’d wager, from how nervous he seemed.”
Patty surges forward onto her hands and knees, scrambling to get in Hanks’ face. Surprisingly, he’s not that caught off guard - perhaps used to it from Yuri’s exuberance as a child, or that other kid from the lower quarter who’s off chasing Repede on the far side of the room.
“I need all the details, matey! Don’t spare a single one!”
Hanks chuckles.
“I’m very sorry young lady, but he didn’t tell me all that much! I had expected it to be Lady Estellise here,” he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling mischievously as she flusters, “but the one detail he did give me certainly ruled that out quick.”
“O-oh?” Estelle stammers.
“Mmm, well. Apparently whoever they are, they’re significantly older than him. About 14 years, I think he said.”
“My my! That’s quite the considerable age gap.” Judy coos, tone teasing in spite of Yuri’s absence. She turns over to look at him, sitting atop a pile of knights and triumphantly tucking into a second of four bowls (spoils of war, Raven would wager) - they all do, in fact.
“Kid’s got taste at least. Nothin’ quite like the mature allure of an older lady~'' Raven sing-songs, half-joking. Rita jabs him in the side harshly.
“Shut up old man-- you said you thought it was Estelle he had a crush on right? So are you saying this is recent? ”
It’s like a switch flips in all of their heads simultaneously. Faces filled with shock whip to look at Hanks, who sits sheepishly clutching his bowl.
“Whoops. Might’ve let a little too much information slip on that one. I was probably meant to keep that detail private…”
“Oh my go--”
Rita slaps a hand over Karol’s mouth before his shriek draws too many eyes over. They all meet each other's' gaze one by one - Yuri's crushing on someone for the first time ever at this exact moment - before turning to look back at Yuri again. He’s mid-mouthful, spoon clutched in his hand like a shovel and sauce dripping down his chin, as he turns to survey his surroundings and catches their eyes.
Tumblr media
“What?” he chokes out around his mouthful, just audible over the bustle of the rest of the room. He must see the sheer shock on their faces, as concern starts to cross his face and his gaze wanders to Hanks. “Wait, what did you tell them, old man?”
Hanks chooses that exact moment to get up, incredibly swiftly for a man his age.
“Well, thank you all for keeping me company, kids, but I must be off to… check on other people in… other parts of the castle. Right. Goodbye.”
The speed at which he heads for the door is quite remarkable - Yuri barely manages to scramble off his knight-pile-cum-throne before he’s gone from sight, and presumably halfway down the corridor before Yuri makes it out of the room after him.
It’s a shock, that much is certain. Raven hadn’t thought Yuri would be interested in older women - or people he supposes, he’s never really shown any inclination to anyone before in a romantic sense, so certainly not any specific gender. He’d never much struck him as the type.
But then he hadn’t struck him as the type to be interested in any type of relationship until this curveball of a conversation had come along. So hey, why not. If Yuri was into older people, he certainly wasn’t intending to torment him about it. Other than maybe one opportunely timed quip.
Honestly, he really hadn’t thought much about it at first.
But then the kids throw their own curveball.
“I can’t believe Yuri likes someone so much older than him!! Like, I guess I get the appeal of someone a little older than you for like… security or something, I dunno. But man, 14 years!!” Karol exclaims, as quietly as he can for his excitement. “I wonder if we know who it is.”
Rita barks a laugh, catching a distracted Patty off-guard. She begins anew whatever calculations she’d been making on her fingers as Rita shrugs exaggeratedly.
“I bet it’s some big-boobed motherly-figure in the lower quarter or something.”
“Well if all he wanted was big boobs and a nurturing personality then I’ve been here this whole time, all he had to do was ask!” Judith sighs, sly smirk giving away her lack of sincerity.
“Hey,” Patty pipes up suddenly, drawing their attention. “Isn’t Raven about 14 years older than Yuri?”
He feels the cogs in his brain whirr to a stop.
Suddenly, he is thinking very much about it.
“Oh yeah!” he hears Karol chirp. No doubt he checks the calculations on his own fingers, but Raven doesn’t register it if so, hard as he’s trying just to think at all. “Haha, that’s a weird coincidence!”
Estelle giggles.
“Imagine if it was Raven he had a thing for!”
He feels their eyes on him instantly, but it takes a moment for his brain to catch up. His own eyes must be wide as saucers, as they look at him, the mirth starting to fall from Estelle’s expression - he forces a ridiculous grin to his face.
“Haha, yeah imagine that! Someone like Yuri fallin’ for a washed up old fart like me!” he cackles, voice strained even to his own ears. “That’d be ridiculous!!”
The kids buy it though, Karol laughing along before pulling the others back into their debate about exactly who the mystery object of Yuri’s affections could be. It’s Estelle whose gaze lingers on him, just a moment or two longer, as the facade starts to crack, but she must see it - the silent plea in his eyes - as she turns back to the others not a moment later.
If anyone notices that Raven is mentally tapped out until they all go their separate ways for the night, then they’re at least polite enough not to mention it.
⇷-------------
Raven is a strange one.
This is Yuri’s third time meeting the man (or fourth, if the time Rita threatened to set him alight in Capua Torim counts as an actual encounter) and in all honesty, it’s hard to get a read on him past him being very obviously shady.
He seems as though he might be someone of consequence, if the quality of information he so casually throws like bones to random guards is actually as quality as he would have them believe. Either way he’s certainly silver-tongued, plying the others in Yuri’s makeshift travelling party into submission fairly easily despite their initial apprehension about him. Karol and Estelle are charmed by him, by his goofy antics if not the lolloping drawl of his accent, though they make no effort to hide the fact that they find him fishy. While Rita is far less taken, she seems to be placated by him taking her punishments, both fire and fists, like a champ.
The charm isn’t exactly visible to the naked eye though. He skulks at the back of the group, heavy footed and posture slouched. His clothes all seem far too big for him, obscuring the shape of his body in a way Yuri supposes is meant to make him seem unassuming, and he’s already displayed a number of habits that he knows would make any upper quarter noble’s toes curl - picking at his ears and the skin around his nails, before chewing at the nails themselves.
He has to admit though, he’s quite handsome in the face beneath the mess of dusty brown hair. Not in the same way as Flynn, with his big blue eyes and tousled blonde hair, the very picture of a storybook knight. His crooked nose, chapped lips, stubbly chin and hollow cheeks certainly make for a more unconventional type of attractive, but they all come together to create a certain appeal. The brightness of his eyes certainly helps too.
Also the combat prowess. Fighting ability is always an attractive quality in Yuri’s opinion, but especially in a travelling companion.
For a self-professed old man, Raven’s far more nimble than Yuri had expected. Sure, he’d made quite the getaway back in Capua Nor after he’d sold them out, but he’d assumed that’d been a one-off desperate sprint, not the norm. Apparently he was wrong, based on the nimble footwork he employs to dart out of the way of a particularly feisty howler. It doesn’t escape his notice how Karol nearly falls flat on his ass when Raven rushes past him and twists himself at an insane angle to fire an arrow across the way, skewering a beetle between its mandibles before it can take a bite out of Estelle.
“Woah, Raven!! Yuri, you’ve got some serious competition for your acrobatics now!!”
The bark of laughter leaves his throat unwittingly.
“I didn’t realise there even was a competition!”
He sees Rita roll her eyes as she releases a torrent of water behind her, clearly disbelieving him and with good reason; he’s never been one to back down from a potential competition. He breaks away from the corner of the forest floor he’s been holding down, using the momentum to propel himself up and over Raven, carrying it into his sword as he flips to crash it down into the skull of another monster. Raven whistles appreciatively as it disappears into dust.
“Not bad, young ‘un!”
He throws a smirk over his shoulder, ego swelling at the genuine awe on Raven’s face.
“How’s about it, old man? First to twenty?”
The awe transforms into a grimace in an instant.
“Ahhh, I dunno about that. Ol’ Raven’s never really been one for competitions, let alone effort. ”
He scoffs.
“Oh, come on. We’ve got no choice but to fight to get deeper into the forest anyway, right? So why not make a game of it? Not like it’ll actually be any more effort than you were already putting in.”
Raven purses his lips, seemingly unconvinced. His eyes narrow slightly as he stares off, deep in thought, the blue-green seemingly increasing in intensity. For all he’s been putting on the act of a court jester, Yuri is certain in that moment that there’s a deep intelligence to the older man; something unspoken, a wisdom beyond his years.
(Not that he knows how old Raven is but. Well, he gets the feeling that while he’s certainly older than he and his travelling companions, he’s not actually pushing middle-aged yet like he makes out)
Fwip!
He comes back to himself to see Raven’s face closer than before, upside down, chin in line with his collarbone. His bow arm (and subsequently the bow itself) is extended past his shoulder, the other loose by his head having just fired. Behind him there’s a thunk. A screech. A pop. And then silence.
“Looks like that’s one ta me~” Raven coos, eyes hooded as he smirks. He rolls his back, lithe and catlike, to stand himself back upright, stretching his arms out until his shoulders crack. For all his complaining about aches and pains so far (extremely numerous for the time they’ve been travelling with him, maybe an hour at most), he certainly doesn’t move as though he has any joint issues.
Tumblr media
Despite his shock, he finds himself laughing.
If he’s honest with himself, he’s just as charmed by Raven as the kids are. He’s never made a connection quite like this one; with someone who can go toe to toe with his dry wit, and make it out the other side without being angry with him. Rita had been the closest (since Niren at least, but Yuri prefers to avoid thinking about the only father he ever knew if he can). But while Rita’s great with a back and forth, she’s easily riled, easily flustered. It only takes one slightly wrong jab and she gets stroppy, or else loses all interest in the situation.
Raven, for all his strangeness, has so far matched Yuri every step of the way. They’ve fallen so easily into a steady banter, something of their own personal comedy routine for just the two of them, some form of it present even from their first encounter way back in that jail cell. To have someone who can appreciate his snark, and give it back just as good while they both know it’s all in good fun? He’d never realised just how much he’d appreciate a relationship like that.
So yeah, Raven’s a little suspicious. But as far as Yuri’s concerned, he’s willing to offer him the benefit of the doubt for the strange comfort he gets from their repartee, just so long as he doesn’t do anything too crazy.
He slaps Raven on the shoulder, moving past him to continue deeper into the oversized brush.
“You got me, old man. But don’t you worry, you won’t be holding that lead for long.”
Raven merely cackles in response, wordlessly filing in behind him.
-------------⇸
There’s only one real constant within their travelling party, and that’s that the sleeping arrangements are ever-changing.
It takes a little while for him to notice, though in his defence the first week or so he’s with them is certainly not a typical week. In the more recent days, they’d gotten lucky with inns having enough beds for all of them, but the first few nights had been entirely sleepless in the hustle and bustle of, y’know, stopping a war, taking down the Blood Alliance and colliding with an actual genuine-article ghost ship.
(He’s still not sure what that was all about if he’s being entirely honest, but he’s old and ““wise”” enough by now that he knows there are some things in this world that you simply shouldn’t question)
So it’s Nordopolica where he finds himself bedding down with his new companions for the first time. The constant hustle and bustle of Palestralle’s workers and the fresh colosseum season unfortunately means there isn’t much free in terms of rooms. On the plus side, the three double beds they’re provided are plenty enough space for them all to be able to sleep comfortably; Fomalhaut’s rooms are quite spacious, nothing at all like the army barracks of his youth (though he supposes that should be expected from a city that considers itself something of an entertainment hub).
Raven takes his time ambling in behind everyone else, absently watching how effortlessly Repede transfers his pipe from one side of his toothy maw to the other. Rushing would be pointless, in his opinion, because he can already envision how everyone will double-up. Rita is sure to claim a spot beside the princess, for whose sake she could not be more clearly continuing to travel for despite her protests, and Judy won’t want to get lumped with a snotty (though admittedly quite sweet) brat or some dirty old man she hardly knows - he’s gonna get stuck with the kid, and the two of them can have a very one-sided competition over whose shitty little brain can give them the most nightmares in one night, and Raven will be perfectly content with that, thank you very much.
(It’ll be him who wins that one - hormone-induced nightmares are nothing compared to the horrors your brain can produce when you have blood and a war on your hands)
And then Karol throws him for a loop by tossing his bag semi-gently to the floor before diving into bed after Rita , of all people.
She hardly even makes a fuss. There’s a yelp - what sounds like it could be the start of the protest Raven would expect from such a combination - before she settles almost immediately.
“Just make sure you don’t kick me awake again, got it?” she barks pointedly at him, before rolling to face away from him and promptly cocooning herself in the blanket. He laughs at her, kicking off his shoes and fluffing up his pillow, seemingly content.
Wide-eyed, Raven turns to the girls - surely he can’t be the only one caught off-guard by this, it seems unthinkable for Rita not to put up a fight to sharing with Karol , and there’s an exclamation of surprise right on the tip of his tongue - only to find them claiming the second bed for themselves, Judy helping Estelle to unfasten the complicated buckles of her dress. He bites his words back, head whipping away; much as the image of a pervert works as a brilliant cover to convince the kids of his idiocy, peeping on the possible-crown princess as she gets changed is certainly not a thing he’s ever aspired to.
And so he comes face to face with the final bed. His bed he supposes, strange as it may still be to him. Yuri’s already making himself comfy on the left side, shirt and jacket thrown over the bottom edge of the bed frame. He stretches his arms up and over his head, muscles rippling as he yawns. He catches Raven’s eye as they fall back down, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes.
“Looks like it’s you and me, old man.” he says, patting the sheets next to him with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
He can feel his own lips quirk to mirror Yuri’s, even as he fights to push down the instinctive panic.
“And here I was hopin’ ta share with my darlin’ Judy!” he whines playfully, flopping down beside him face first in a show of dramatism.
“Sorry, Raven. I just couldn’t miss the chance to cuddle up with Estelle!” comes her voice, sing-songy, from the bed she’s claimed. He can see, as he pushes himself up onto his hands and knees to get better situated, that she’s doing exactly that. She’s practically spooning the princess, face buried in short pink locks, and Estelle herself looks the very picture of a tomato (not that he wouldn’t himself with Judith’s considerable… assets pressed against him).
“Well so long as yer not a cuddler yerself, Mr Lowell.” he jokes, rearranging himself onto his back before pulling the duvet up to his chin. For all that they’re in less than ideal circumstances with sharing beds, he’s glad to see Palestralle don’t skimp on the furnishings for their inns - the linen is incredibly soft, smooth against the pads of his fingers, and it’s a smart fabric choice for an inn in so changeable a climate.
Yuri huffs a laugh.
“I think I can hold myself back this once, just for you.” he says, tone laden with sarcasm. He watches Raven with keen eyes as he lounges on his side, head resting in his hand. Raven wonders how he can sleep like that - how his arm doesn’t cramp in the night, doesn’t wake him up in a fit of panic when he can’t move it, breathing shallow until the blood flow returns. He forgets, sometimes, that not everyone enters a blind panic over the little things.
“Why, I'm honoured! Yer benevolence knows no bounds!" he coos back, nose scrunching in amusement. Yuri smiles as he reaches back and pats Repede where he stands by the bed - a silent request to turn off the overhead light. The pooch complies, trotting off with a clack of his pipe between his teeth - Raven’s constantly caught off guard by the dog’s intelligence, the number of strange things Yuri’s managed to teach him (or perhaps that the dog has taught himself? He’s still not fully certain how much of a hand in training him that the young man’s had), and this is certainly another for the list.
“Damn right it doesn’t. Better make sure you show me the respect I deserve.” he says. He meets his eyes again as the blastia clicks off, dousing them in darkness. They crinkle with mirth, the abyss within softening even more as Karol giggles at their antics on the other side of the room.
They find themselves in a staring contest, of sorts. Or maybe closer to a game of chicken? He’s sure Yuri sees it that way at least, if his unblinking gaze is anything to go by. For him on the other hand it’s… something else. What exactly he can’t say. He’s just... transfixed .
Because Yuri’s plenty handsome on his own - perhaps even beautiful, if that’s more your thing. Raven’s already seen him turn a great many heads in the short time they’ve been together, including both the illustrious head of Fortune’s Market and the great forgotten war hero himself. Maybe he’d even let himself cast an admiring glance his way, if he hadn’t picked specifically womaniser for Raven’s bullshit cover-up trait.
But when the sea-breeze blows gently, kicking up the curtains, and the moonlight shines into the room, it catches him just so. The glow is ethereal, transformative, and it brings out the hidden flecks of golden brown in the depths of Yuri’s eyes, spins the silk of his dark hair almost chestnut. And just for a moment, he can trick himself into believing she’s here, the Canary herself, laid opposite him with a fond teasing smile, and oh god the hole where his heart used to be aches to reach out and touch her--
But for all her perfections, Casey’s eyes had never glowed quite like that had they? Never stared directly into his soul, made him almost want to bury into her arms and let her shoulder his every burden for him. Her kindness had inspired, but never been so bottomless that he wanted to abuse it, had never come off her in waves to the point it was visible in every little line of her face despite any grandstanding. Never so gentle to the broken that he could almost convince himself that he doesn’t need to run, that if he’s seen he’ll be accepted wholly, flaws and sins and all.
Not like Yuri. Not at all like Yuri.
The curtain drops, or else the clouds must roll in overhead. Either way, the moonlight vanishes, and with it goes the last vestiges of the illusion.
“Aye-aye, sir.” he all but murmurs, his voice tighter than just moments ago. He hopes, as Yuri’s face twists in concern, that his own face doesn’t give away the turmoil of his heart.
“You alright, old man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Hah, maybe I have!” he laughs, but it sounds notably hollow even to him. Still, he doesn’t break eye-contact as Yuri seems to peer directly into him, seemingly scanning his every thought and feeling, hope and dream.
The last thing he sees as he slips into sleep is the gentle embrace of the abyss. While his dreams are plagued by nightmares, a broken body bleeding out in the sand, he finds it’s the best night’s sleep he’s had in years.
-------------⇸
The town is silent, other than the gentle rustle of the sea breeze through the trees and the crunch of the dirt path beneath his feet.
They’ve been here all day, but Yuri’s not sure he’s used to how incredibly peaceful Yormgen is yet. He’s not sure he ever will be, either. He’s used to the bustle of the city, the shouting of vendors and newsies in Zaphias’s main market as carts laden with goods and people roll by. It feels like there’s always a dog barking, a clock chiming, a baby crying in the city, and the background noise helps him to switch his brain off in a way that the country never can.
Halure had been quiet to him - the calm atmosphere of the day, the slowness of shop transactions and conversation, had already been a lot, but for there to be a perfect stillness as night fell rather than an increase in bustle as drinkers started to take to the town had been the real whiplash. Despite a relatively large population, the town didn’t have a single dedicated bar to its name, and it’d thrown Yuri for far more of a loop than he’d ever expected.
Yormgen is even stranger. There must be all of fourteen people in this entire town, he thinks, and every single one of them vanished into their houses the moment the sun started to set. The only conversation he's heard that he hasn’t been directly involved in since Duke showed up and smashed their apatheia (he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t still annoyed about that) is that of his own travelling companions bickering over what to make for dinner with their limited ingredients as he stepped away to find their mysterious disappearing old man.
Raven took the loss of the crystal hard. Or at least, Yuri thinks he did. He certainly vanished quickly when they decided to wait around while Rita took some time to investigate. He’d been right next to him one second and then gone the next, before they’d had a chance to agree to meet back up for dinner at sundown. With no one having seen him all day since to let him know, it’d fallen on his shoulders to hunt him down and drag him back. Raven might’ve been plenty energetic on their first trip through the desert, but they all know better than to let him make the return journey on an empty stomach. The man eats like a bird at the best of times - he really can’t afford to be doing that now.
He’d grumbled and whined about it being him who had to go find him, but in all honesty he’s kind of pleased. He’s found himself surprisingly worried about the old man - this is the first time since they’ve started officially travelling together that he’s pulled a disappearing act. Normally it’s hard to get him to shut up for more than 20 minutes at a time, so the better part of a day without seeing or hearing from him at all is completely unheard of. If his silence doesn’t mean he’s curled up and died somewhere, then Yuri knows that he’s the only one of their party who stands any chance of fetching him with both of them left unscathed.
He’s explored the residential side of the town (if it can truly be called that) extensively already throughout the day. Not that it was hard to do - other than the homes of locals that are a bit further out, the town proper is essentially three big buildings and a deck. He’d quickly concluded that there were very few places to hide a man with a proclivity for such a bright shade of purple amongst the muted timber and the gentle green of the grass. The only conclusion he can come to is that Raven must’ve headed to the other side of town, to the sea of flowers that makes his sinuses itch just looking in their direction.
For all he knows they’ll give him a headache, the flowers are incredibly pretty. It had been the bushes of pink and blue trumpets that had caught his attention in the midday, as Estelle had run over to them in delight and plucked a few. She’d fashioned a few little fascinators, of sorts (a skill she’d learned in the finishing school she had no doubt been forced to attend as the potential future Empress), and spent the better part of an hour lacing them into everyone’s hair. If he looks back over his shoulder, he knows he’ll see Judith wearing the pink blossoms - rhododendron, Estelle had called them - with pride, while Karol nervously fidgets with his own, worried they’ll fall out, ruining the princess’s hard work.
Now, however, in the amber light of the sunset, it’s the flower tunnel that draws his eye. Not that he hadn’t noticed it before - it’s impossible to miss, vibrant as it is. But he’s never been the biggest fan of yellow, always a little bright for his tastes. The way the light bounces off the thousands of little flowers is certainly eye-catching though, setting them in such a way that their radiance is somehow easier on the eye. They’re impossible to look away from as he draws closer, some emotion he’s unused to, couldn’t possibly name, stirring in his chest. The chains dance gently in the breeze, bouncing against each other like a bead curtain, and something about it makes him nostalgic for the familiarity of the Lower Quarter.
Then he spots him, further in, beneath the boughs. His hand rests comfortably on the handle of the knife he keeps at his waist, the other left to the mercy of the breeze as he stares up amidst the blossoms. They bathe him in their glow, mingling with the dying rays of the sun, casting him almost golden . He’s mesmerised by the sight himself, it seems, completely off-guard for the first time in the couple of months Yuri’s known him - for all he plays the fool, Yuri would be an even bigger one not to realise how keenly Raven follows the every movement of all those around him.
But right now, he seems… defenceless. Open. Fragile. Unaware that a world aside from him and the sea of flowers even exists. He could do whatever he wanted to Raven in this moment, he thinks, and he just knows the man would be equally surprised by anything. Something about that knowledge, this vision makes his chest feel light, almost airy.
The image sears itself into his mind, unbidden, and he knows instantly. No matter how hard he tries he’ll never erase it.
“Laburnum.”
He startles as Raven speaks. Perhaps he hadn’t been as unaware as he’d thought.
“Huh?” he grunts dumbly.
“These flowers. They call ‘em Laburnum. Or golden rain in some parts.” he says, flicking his eyes (almost the vibrant green of dense aer with the glow) over to acknowledge Yuri. He goes quickly back to gazing upwards, almost reverent. “Pretty apt.”
Yuri finds himself eyeing the flowers again as he moves closer. They’re strangely shaped, the blooms, unlike any he’s seen before. The petals curl back and in on themselves, clustered closely together in a way that hides the little shock of red in their centres. Stranger still are the buds, gently curved in a way that reminds him of the plantains he’d seen in Dahngrest’s market.
From the right angle, they could almost look like birds in flight, or indeed a sudden burst of rainfall.
“Yeah, I guess.”
Raven’s lips quirk into a smile. His eyebrows set into something pensive, wistful even.
“They’re pretty rare these days. Didn’t think I’d ever get to see a single tree with my own eyes, never mind a whole grove…”
The melancholy that’s settled over him like a veil is impossible to ignore, his voice distant as though transported to another time. There’s a pressure at the base of Yuri’s throat as he watches him, finds himself wanting to do… something. He’s not sure what. Just anything to pull him from his reverie. But of course, in the end all he really knows is sarcasm.
“Wouldn’t have taken you as the type to know about flowers.”
It seems to work somewhat. Though perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised - he and Raven have always been strangely in sync.
“Wouldn’t be much good with the ladies if I didn’t know about little things like flowers, now would I?” he says, finally turning to face Yuri more fully. His eyes soften with mischief, and yet still seem tight with… well if Yuri had to put a name to it, he’d wager it was grief .
A half-joke then; his flower knowledge almost certainly learned on behalf of one lady, though he’d wager not women generally at all. After all, for all he seemed to enjoy playing the womaniser, his actions often seemed chosen to purposefully push them away if anything.
Yuri rolls his eyes in faux-annoyance. Raven smiles. It gets closer to meeting his eyes than he expected it to.
“I can’t imagine just throwing their names around is especially impressive. Seems more like the absolute bare minimum.” he says, hand coming to rest on a cocked hip. Raven’s smile widens, coaxed out of his shell somewhat by the familiar teasing routine.
“Ah, but whoever said I only knew their names?”
His eyebrows raise instinctively. To know flowers’ names is one thing, but any other details aren’t usually common knowledge; their language, how to arrange them, the best methodology for their care all usually things known solely by the upper echelons of society, or else those with enough money in their back pockets to take a chance on starting a related career.
“Don’t tell me…” he trails off, fixing Raven with a sceptical look. The old man’s face splits into a wide grin, hand coming up to flash a peace sign. Dork, his thinks impulsively as he huffs a laugh, surprised at the fond tone the word takes in his mind. Then quick as the cheer arrives it drops again, leaving the previous melancholic half-smile splayed across Raven’s face.
“These wouldn’t be much good in a bouquet though, pretty as they are. If bein’ deadly poisonous wasn’t enough, they’re usually used as a symbol of the forsaken. ” he muses, the last word spat like something dirty from his mouth.
“Who the hell would look at these and decide that? ” Yuri barks out. His expression must look as bewildered as he feels - Raven laughs at him, gentle but genuine.
“Yeah, it seems like a lot, right?” he says. His gaze drifts away from Yuri’s, losing focus and staring past him, through his shoulder. “She always liked them though, in spite of that.”
“...She?” he asks, carefully. He doesn’t want to sound eager, too nosey. Doesn’t want to push when the old man is this fragile. But he can’t help his curiosity - this is the first he’s mentioned of his past, the first clue to piecing together the admittedly fascinating mystery that is Raven. The man himself seems to realise it too, that with just one sentence he’s revealed a huge part of himself he hasn’t previously. Graciously, he doesn’t scramble to hide it away as Yuri might’ve expected.
“Ah. Old friend.” he says softly, as though divulging a secret. “She’s… gone now. But she was always a big fan of flowers. These weren’t her favourite but. She liked ‘em plenty.”
It slips out of his mouth before he can stop himself.
“Not like you to spill your past out in the open like this, old man.”
It takes all of his mental strength not to kick himself as Raven’s expression shutters, the nostalgia, longing , vanishing from his face in favour of something more carefully guarded. His eyes though, expressive as they are, can’t hide the pain.
“Ah. I suppose they got me feelin’ a little nostalgic. Forgive me.”
The silence stretches out between them for miles and miles as he watches Raven, Raven in turn watching the dancing laburnum above his head. His eyes flicker from bloom to bloom, as though cataloguing each one carefully, trying to commit their shape, their profile to memory. Yuri finds his eyes drawn to his lips as they purse, a gentle pout taut in a manner that gives away the nervous chewing of the inside of his mouth. His thick eyelashes fan over his cheekbones as he blinks, and Yuri hates the silence of the country, because it’s weird sappy shit like this that the bustle of the city helps him to avoid thinking about.
Raven’s a lot like these flowers , is the thought that springs to his mind, unprompted. And it’s ridiculous really. Completely nonsensical. The kind of thing Karol might come out with on a night where he’s overtired, that they’d all tease him for mercilessly until they pass out. But there’s nothing to distract him from it - he’s surrounded by the evidence, and the more he tries to ignore it the more sense it seems to make to him. The two parts of his brain war with each other, unrelenting, and he can feel the push and pull starting to show on his face.
Then a single blossom falls from the canopy above. It lands perfectly atop Raven’s bangs, perched there like a peepit in a tree, and he can’t fight the analogy anymore - Raven certainly looks forsaken, in that instant, the pain swimming in his eyes. And yet usually so bright and cheery, like the flower’s vibrant colouring, almost desperate for attention as he jokes around-- and then pushing people away, like a poison, when they try to get close. An exterior crafted to make you underestimate him, and yet a hidden strength, swift and deadly on the battlefield. A sunny disposition that washes over you like a summer rain, calming and refreshing.
He’s not sure anymore if the golden glow bouncing off Raven’s skin is from the flowers, or just simply the man himself.
A light breeze jostles the flower, and it slips from his hair. The strange shape hooks itself onto the crook of his nose and it wedges firmly, even as the wind picks up, cascading more petals down onto them both. Raven either ignores it, or doesn’t notice, his eyes falling closed as he lets nature wash over him.
He steps closer carefully, unthinkingly. He feels as a moth to a flame, though why he couldn’t say. He’s unfamiliar with the stirring in his chest that rises at the sight, doesn’t understand his compulsion to reach out, to touch Raven. To check he’s still solid and there, that he hasn’t been blown away on the currents of the wind like his namesake.
His hand reaches out, plucking the flower from Raven’s face gently. The old man startles instantly, eyes snapping open and meeting Yuri’s as he flicks the blossom to the floor. Raven’s eyes scan over him, looking for answers that he’s not sure he’ll find. Yuri certainly wouldn’t be able to explain if he were to ask. He simply looks between the sunken blue-green, carefully smoothing more fallen petals from Raven’s shoulders.
“For what it’s worth,” he says, voice practically a whisper beneath the howling of the breeze, far gentler than he’d expected it to be, “I think I understand why your friend liked them.”
Raven’s eyebrow cocks, ever so slightly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” he answers, lips quirking into a small smile, something genuine and raw and delicate that he doesn’t recall gracing his face before. “They’ve got a certain charm, I suppose.”
Raven’s breath hitches - he doesn’t hear it, only sees the narrowing of his nostrils, the bobbing of his Adam's apple. His eyes are so round, as the melancholy starts to subside slowly, leaving something inquisitive in his wake. It’s an expression he’s sure he’s seen on Repede before when he was younger, still training, still struggling with learning to sit on command, and it feels strange to compare Raven to a puppy, but it certainly isn’t the strangest thing that’s happened to him in the last 24 hours.
It feels like hours before Raven breaks his eyes away, anything raw and gentle immediately traded for bluster and jokes as he ducks his head.
“What’re you doin’ hangin’ out with me amidst the flowers anyway?” he asks, voice a little hoarse as his teasing lilt starts to creep back to him. “The others will start to talk if we keep havin’ these secret rendezvous, young man! How scandalous!”
He slaps his hand to his chest, feinting horror at their make-believe tryst. Yuri snorts, socking him lightly in the arm. Ridiculous as his jokes are, he can’t help but be pleased to see him return to some semblance of normalcy.
“I came to get you for dinner, dumbass. After that, you can feel free to go on ahead to Nordopolica.” he says, turning back around to lead the way to the others with a nod of his head.
Raven snickers at his own antics, hurrying to follow after him as he pulls a hurt expression.
“What, you wanna get rid of me so soon?”
“Wrong.” he snorts, head turned pointedly away in an effort to ignore his self-deprecating jokes. “I just wouldn't want you to miss the new moon and your chance to deliver the letter all on our account.”
The beat of silence that follows is just a touch too long for their usual banter. He turns back to Raven, worried momentarily that he’s run off again and he’ll be on a wild goose chase for the rest of the night, only to find him following attentively behind him. He’s looking at Yuri, expression… totally indecipherable to him for once, actually. It’s a rare occasion for him to have no idea what the old man is thinking.
“What?” he asks, eyebrow quirking. Raven simply smiles, wide and catlike.
“Oh, nothin’ important~” he sing-songs, taking over the lead in the moment Yuri pauses. “Honestly, I could do fine without your concern.”
Yuri scowls.
“Wrong again.” he says, moving to keep pace, their back-and-forth continuing until they arrive back at the inn, and the campfire their party has set up.
(He never does figure out what Raven’s expression had meant on that day, but when he finds the small laburnum branch tangled in his hair alongside the rhododendron the next morning, he quietly stows it away in the bottom of Karol’s bag, heart fluttering strangely in his chest)
-------------⇸
The speed at which Mantaic’s locals manage to throw the party together is honestly quite astounding.
The stalls of the inn concourse have cleared their tables of their wares, already starting to accumulate piles of local cuisine - barely an hour since the news of the Flynn Brigade’s arrival started to spread throughout the town, whispers abandoned in favour of joyous cries despite the extreme early hour, and already there’s a feast to rival one for a noble. People of all ages are wide awake and gleeful, even very young children who don’t fully understand what’s happening squealing with joy at seeing their parents’ and older siblings’ excitement.
The princess tries to help where she can (as always) - shakily carrying huge steaming pots to their directed positions, assisting in dragging tables out of homes to line the streets. Were Flynn not so busy tying up loose ends with the stragglers of the Cumore Brigade, Judith’s sure he’d be dancing around her like a mother hen. Instead, Karol and Rita have become his stand-ins, getting roped into helping themselves albeit minus Estelle’s unshakeable enthusiasm.
She’s glad everything turned out okay in the end. It had been with great unease that they’d all drifted off to sleep the night before, distressed at their powerlessness, their lack of time. Battling with the princess’s impulsivity had been hard, especially in the presence of her big round eyes and quivering lips, but a necessary evil. There really wasn’t anything they could’ve done. Judith remains firm in her belief - it would be impossible to rehabilitate a man like Cumore in jail. Even with the combined influence of Flynn and Estelle, the strength of their idealism and naïveté, a man as corrupt as he would never conform to concepts like morals and ethics. He would only change in death.
The man’s fall from grace, while certainly better than allowing him to run amok, does little to satisfy her in all honesty. The townspeople, however, just seem glad to be free of his clutches, regardless of the flaws in the Empire’s justice system. She can’t blame them really - she’s sure she’d feel the same in their shoes, the ever-lingering threat of death by dehydration or being eaten alive finally lifted from their shoulders.
She’s glad for the lifting of the tense air that had settled over their travelling party the night before. That there’s a smile on Estelle’s face again is good too. For the sake of the guild, nothing more , she scolds herself mentally, quashing the leap in her chest as the baby blues smile in her direction.
She finds herself counted as one of the old souls on this occasion; the small group who are extremely pleased for the turn of events and the freedom of the people, but are either too tired or consider themselves too uninvested to actually lend a hand. Raven is a regular to this group, fucked as his sleeping pattern is, and it doesn't surprise her as much as she thought it would that Patty too sits among them.
Yuri sitting back, however, is new.
Something is off with him. Something has been off with him since… well, certainly since their discovery of Cumore's little scheme. He’s never been the most talkative of their group, a man of relatively few words until it comes to snide jibes and teasing, or else rallying speeches to raise morale or call outs for something he perceives to be an injustice.
(She’d say he was self-righteous - but then, by that same line of thinking, isn’t she also?)
His usual quietude has never felt like this though - dense and oppressive like thunderclouds, holding a tension that, if referred to, threatens to strike like lightning, harsh and quick and painful. It’s possible he’d just slept badly, but she doubts it. She and Yuri are painfully alike at the best of times and in this, it seems, they continue to be.
Yes, for Yuri, the biggest champion of justice among them, to still be so tense, so incredibly on edge… It’s extremely telling.
The only one who seems to have noticed Yuri’s torment other than her (and his faithful pooch) is, of course, Raven. It’s no surprise - he’s always kept a close eye on Yuri, in the time she’s known them. She’d heard tell that the Don had taken an interest in Yuri when he’d met him, in a way usually foreign to him in regards to newcomers. Normally it would be years - years of hard work, of craft and contributions in the name of the guilds, for the man to so much as glance in your direction, let alone learn your name (understandably so for so busy and powerful a man). Yet Yuri had waltzed in and garnered his full attention in the space of a few hours, at best.
That Raven has clearly been instructed to stake him out, in addition to his apatheia hunt, feels natural. Less so is a good chunk of what he actually seems to be observing about Yuri - she’s sure the Don would much rather see a report on his fighting capabilities, his disposition, the flexibility of his morality in a pinch, than whatever he’s gleaning by staring at his back when he takes his shirt off, or watching the flow of his hair in the desert breeze.
(That is, however, a report she would quite like to read, if for nothing more than watching the burn of Raven’s ears at the request)
This morning, however, the eye he keeps on him is careful. Though the ever-present catlike smirk that plays over his lips remains, there’s something considering to his gaze - a scheme in the works but not those of his usual calibre. Nothing designed to rile Rita, fluster Estelle or make the kids laugh (though she’s sure if he can tie his usual goals into whatever he’s concocting then he certainly won’t shy away at the chance).
If she had to guess at his intentions, she’d have thought--
The blaring of a horn throws her suddenly from her train of thought - the celebrations are brought instantly into full swing by a makeshift band of passing guildsmen throwing their own contributions into the mix. Judith doesn’t consider herself a big listener of music, in all honesty, but she’d be hard pressed not to recognise the juxtaposed staccatos and legatos characteristic of Dahngrestian swing - while lesser known within Empire towns like this one, the style is famous the world over.
She hasn’t had many opportunities to join in with the festivities the guilds are known for throwing, where dancers step and twirl faster than the barkeeps can pour drinks (and really, isn’t that an impressive thought, considering the drinking culture in Dahngrest?) She’s bore witness to their local dancing customs only once or twice, and never within the heart of the city itself, and she knows with certainty that while her footwork on the battlefield might be immaculate, she has two left feet for dancing - would certainly never dare to attempt swing. She has great sympathy for the townsfolk who, while enraptured by the melody, feet tapping along jovially, seem as though they don’t know quite what to do with it.
Altosk’s second, on the other hand, is ecstatic. He barks a delighted laugh that startles Patty, almost jostling her from the table she’s perched upon, and finally momentarily draws Yuri from his reverie. She watches, amused, as he throws Yuri’s grumpy, inquisitive look a wink before springing to his feet.
“Hey, kid!” he calls, flagging Karol down as he heads to the middle of the concourse. Their illustrious guild master looks up from the mabo curry bun he’s attempting to swallow whole, wide-eyed. Raven grins, crooked and gummy in a way she’s come to associate with his mischief.
“Why don’t we show these lovely folks how it’s done, as thanks for their hospitality?”
Karol is practically vibrating at the concept. In a flash he’s pulling off his gloves and whipping his bag over his head, dumping the pile in Rita’s lap (eliciting, of course, an incredibly over the top yelp of annoyance). He scarfs down the remnants of the bun as he hops over the table he’s sat at, scampering over to Raven in a manner that does nothing to hide his enthusiasm.
“You better not stand all over my feet, Raven!” he calls as he draws closer, face pulling into a pout that doesn’t quite ring true. The noise Raven makes in response is rather like that of a strangled cat.
“The nerve o’ kids these days!” he bemoans, pinching his sinuses with a shake of his head. “I’ll have you know yours truly is the pride of Altosk! Ya won’t find a better dancer in all o’ Dahngrest, not even the Don himself!”
“Uhu, suuuure. ” Karol drawls, disbelieving, as he comes to a stop by his side.
It’s as he does that Raven ducks his head close to the boy, hand a shield to cover whatever he says. His words are inaudible, but if Karol’s terrible attempts at hiding his furtive glances in Yuri’s direction are anything to go by, Judith would have to guess it’s something about whatever Raven’s scheming for Brave Vesperia’s second.
The band seems to catch wind of their plans, slowing the jaunty tune down to allow the two to begin. Karol dusts his hands off on his trousers bashfully, ridding himself of any remnants of curry, before taking Raven’s hand in his. Their movements start off slow and creeping, almost unnatural to watch, but it quickly becomes apparent to her that they’re motions meant to teach rather than for actual dancing - an enunciated display of footwork for the surrounding beginners as they take their time to get a feel for each other as dance partners.
And then, Raven taking Karol’s waist, they begin in earnest. Movements still slow, but now fluid as water, they begin to turn around one another in the style she vaguely recognises, and while she knows nothing about dancing, it’s clear that they’re extremely good. They match each other's timing perfectly, not a step out of place, and she could believe they were gliding if not for the dust their footsteps kick up.
Karol is good, of course, especially for a kid of his age (she wonders idly if he might’ve had a brief foray in a dancing guild, prior to joining the Hunting Blades), but Raven is really something else. She’s never seen a man able to move his hips in such a way, sashaying in a way that’s frankly a little hypnotising - if she thought he were truly interested in her, then this’d definitely be enough to make her begin to consider his earlier flirtations more seriously. It’s frankly criminal, she thinks, that his trousers and jacket do so much to obscure his ass.
As they become more comfortable, they begin to ramp it up a little - they take it in turns to twirl one another, alternating between wide sweeping arcs, Raven displaying his extreme flexibility to twist beneath Karol’s arm, to fast tight twirls that almost remind her of Rita’s casting motions. For these, Karol spins so quickly she’s surprised he doesn’t completely lose balance and land face first in the dirt. Instead he simply laughs jovially, really getting into the spirit of it and losing himself to the music. Raven’s responding smile is fond, like a father watching their kid, and she could almost believe they’ve both forgotten about their ulterior motives, if not for how Raven keeps glancing in their direction every other time he’s facing their way.
It’s as Estelle drags Rita out to join them, accompanied by a group of the locals, that Judy feels something ugly snare her heart and promptly takes the opportunity to cast a considering glance instead to Patty and Yuri. The smaller is bouncing where she sits, gleefully watching the dancers - she seems antsy to join in, if only she could find a spare partner who wouldn’t accidentally crush her.
Yuri surprises her - while he might not be completely out of his funk, he’s watching more attentively than she previously expected. She gazes at him curiously for a while as he leans his head on his hand, watching the Dahngrestian pair’s increasing frenzy. Karol’s giggles are near constant, and Raven’s been infected by his happiness, laughing obnoxiously himself. The creases of Yuri’s eyes tighten, even as the rest of his face fails to emote, as his eyes seem to lock on Raven’s face and stay there. She smiles.
“Ahem.” she coughs, sharp and decidedly fake. Yuri and Patty both are startled away from the party, turning to her. She raises her eyebrows pointedly at the former, coy smirk rising to her lips. His eyes widen in response, as Patty turns confusedly to look at him, before he flusters, turning away from the party entirely. She laughs.
It’s at that moment that Karol comes spinning towards them, hand freed from Raven’s grasp at last. His smile is blinding, and he’s struggling to catch his breath, but he still seems to be full of energy as Raven follows behind him.
“Patty, you probably know a bit of swing, right?” he asks her, real question thinly veiled by his proffered hand.
She’s a clever lass, though. “Hah! Of course I do, matey!” she declares, grabbing it firmly and pulling him back out into the street.
Raven watches them go fondly, before turning to her. With a flourish, he bows to her, graceful as a knight but with none of the prim and proper charm.
“Judy, my darlin’, could I convince ya to honour ol’ Raven with a dance?”
His eyes never leave hers as he asks, gaze sharp and lacking all pretense of genuine flirting.
Ah, so that’s his game is it?
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly!” she declares exaggeratedly, hand to her chest. “Not when Yuri so clearly wants to instead!”
The effect is instant. She barely has time to note the twitch of Yuri’s ears at the sound of his name before his head whips around to look at them.
“Hu- what?”
Raven springs back upright, throwing his hand up to clutch at his own chest.
“Yuri, darlin’, if you wanted to dance with me then all you had to do was say so! No need to make Judy do all yer dirty work for ya!”
He closes the gap between them in a matter of steps, as Yuri’s face grows more panicked by the second.
“Wh-- no, what?! Judy, no, I can’t dance , JU--!!”
She smiles as Raven takes him by the hand and tugs him away. Yuri’s expression reminds her of a bunwigle, caught unaware in the middle of the night, backed into a corner with no escape. It’s incredibly endearing, and certainly a nice change from the faux-apathy he’s been stewing in.
As they move away she watches as Raven’s expression transforms from mischievous to something more careful, considerate. He doesn’t guide Yuri to the middle of the crowd as she’d expected, where their friends spin with reckless abandon, but instead to a quieter area of the dancing space. Yuri seems just as confused as she feels, more than likely expecting Raven to have humiliated him with his lack of skill. They’re far enough away that whatever the older man says to reassure him is lost to her, but he smiles and takes Yuri’s hands gently.
Her heart swells at the careful way Raven teaches him, easily pulls him out of his darker thoughts and concentrates his mind on something else. Yuri doesn’t strike her as the sort to let himself be taken care of, but she doubts he even realises that’s what’s happening - probably sees it instead as some sort of challenge. It’s nice. She might not have known him long, but she feels close to him in a way she hasn’t felt with another person for… a good ten years, she’d wager. She’d forgotten what it felt like, to see good things happen to someone you care about.
He trips over Raven’s feet often, but Raven doesn’t let him get self-conscious about it - instead exaggeratedly pretending to trip himself in a way that allows Yuri to chip in and tease him. When there’s one failed attempt too many and Yuri attempts to break away, he simply pulls him back in, closer, and looks him in the eyes.
(She feels a little bad for still watching, personal and intimate as the moment is becoming, but it’s hard to find anything else interesting at this point)
“What is it I always say when I’m fightin’, Yuri?” she can just about hear the old man say over the wail of the trombone.
Yuri’s tone is monotonous, even as his face starts to rise into an affectionate smirk.
“‘Ooo, eee, ow, my back hurts?’” he says, quirked eyebrow a dead giveaway for his bullying. He receives a light slap to his arm for his trouble that leaves him laughing openly in a way she… hasn’t actually seen from him in the time she’s known him.
Huh.
“That it’s just like dancin’, ya dolt!” he says. He laces their fingers carefully before starting to move once more through the basic steps. “You’ll see what I mean before long.”
After a few more failed attempts, Yuri finally starts to figure it out. He still steps on Raven’s toes more often than not, but it’s to be expected for a newbie in the face of a dance as rapid as swing - she’s quite impressed at how fast he’s picked it up in all honesty. He’s already doing a damned sight better than Rita, whose motions are still awkward and stiff as she’s twirled by Estelle (though she looks to be having the time of her life, in spite of it).
They look very sweet together, in all honesty. It’s the most she’s seen either of them relax in front of other people - Yuri’s snark is quickly abandoned as he starts to really get into the swing of it, and most of Raven’s jokes and teasing go along with it. They’re just a couple of normal guys in their own little world, dancing together beneath the rising sun, looking genuinely happy for once. Watching them laughing together, she finds her own spirits raised too, even as she continues to sit to one side like a wallflower.
And she’s glad she did. If she hadn’t, she’d have missed out on this potentially one-time-only sight of Yuri’s carefree smile. Would’ve never seen the sudden change in Yuri’s demeanor as he looks up at Raven mid-spin, eyes widening, before his expression becomes suddenly raw.
He’s not watching his feet at all any more - he’s just going with the flow, and reading Raven’s movements and they’re incredibly in sync to say Yuri has all of 10 minutes of experience. It’s strange to think it, but he seems to be having fun , doing something other than fighting, even despite his mess ups.  Yuri’s uncharacteristically crooked smile, as his eyes never leave Raven’s, is blindingly beautiful, and piques her curiosity.
Before today, when she’d seen the admiring glances the Raven had sent his way, she’d have thought he was barking up the completely wrong tree. Now though (although she doubts Yuri’s realised the way he’s starting to look at the old man) she’s really not so sure.
Then the moment is gone.
Behind her, she hears him. Flynn, barking orders to his brigade, accompanied by the protests of the now-bound followers of Cumore. And in that exact instant, Yuri stops stock-still. Raven goes crashing into him, frantically apologising and trying to check he’s okay, but it’s as though he isn’t there. Yuri just stares past her to Flynn, eyes wide and unseeing but… terrified , if she had to take a guess.
She can hear Raven call to him as he slips his hands free from his grip, and he looks up glancingly. He mutters something, what she can only imagine is some excuse, or a few words of apology, before he’s stalking off towards the inn and shutting the door behind him briskly.
Raven, standing alone and off to one side, looks very small in that instant. Like he doesn’t know quite where he went wrong, what he could’ve possibly done differently.
Perhaps, just this once, she can take pity on him. After all, if there’s anyone who can fix her left feet…
Standing and smoothing down her skirts, she heads over to him, taking his hand, and he startles. His big blue eyes look up at her, puppy-like, and it’s like Estelle the night before all over again. She sighs, already regretting her question before she asks.
“Is the offer still open?”
He smiles. Solemn. But it’s a start.
me, age 12: haha yeah raven blatantly has a thing for yuri and i love them together, but i guess there isn't much to imply yuri likes him back huh me, age 24, seeing the 'Happy Birthday' skit for the first time and learning the Very Specific Age Gap between Yuri and his first ever crush: a
ftr no one in the vesperia party is cishet no i will not take questions
27 notes · View notes
major-trouble · 3 years
Note
do you write geraskier? if so, I would love to read prompt 54. if not, pls write for whatever pairing you're in a mood for 😊
Do I write Geraskier?? Have you not seen my AO3? Well, I guess I’ve moved away from that lately but anyway! This turned out a little sadder and A LOT longer than I intended. I hope you like it.
--------------------------
Jaskier told himself he’d moved on. 
To some extent, he had. There were new songs, not written about a certain broody Witcher. There were new adventures, ones he actively participated in and wasn’t left behind in camp or at some inn. And - sealing up the cracks in his shattered heart - there was true friendship beginning to sprout like spring grasses. 
Sure, he may have traded one Witcher for another, but this one seemed more level headed, less quick to anger. Eskel answered his questions thoughtfully, often providing information that had Jaskier writing furiously in his notebook, eager to jot down every word and absorb every bit of knowledge. 
It was good. It gave Jaskier a sense of purpose and made him feel lighter than he had in years. 
Of course, it couldn’t last.
They came across the rumour of a Witcher being held in the dungeons below some Baron’s keep. Tricked and chained, the Baron’s men had captured him, citing that it was in the peoples’ best interests that the “beast” be contained. Lest he do something monstrous.
Jaskier was furious and insisted they go to investigate. Eskel was more cautious, stating - practically - that as soon as he was recognized as a Witcher, the same fate would befall him. 
“What do you suggest, then?” Jaskier asked, pacing the tiny room they procured at the inn, wringing his hands in an effort to contain his agitation. 
“Reconnaissance,” Eskel stated, simply. 
That brought Jaskier’s head up. “Oh?” He looked thoughtful for a moment before brightening. “Oh! You mean me! I could get into the Baron’s court, snoop about a little. Bard’s are notorious for snooping.” 
He was rewarded by the quirk of Eskel’s lips. “Nearly what I had in mind.” 
So it was that Jaskier, dressed in his finest court clothes, boots polished to a bright shine, deposited himself on the Baron’s doorstep, demanding an audience. He’d managed to hire three rather respectable looking young men to act as his retinue, decking them out in more of his less-than-subtle outfits. 
Eskel had been equal parts amused and impressed.
The servants, flustered at the sudden appearance of the Viscount de Lettenhove, hastened to obey. 
Jaskier played his part to the hilt, affecting the pompous, bored aristocrat like he was born to it. Which, in a sense, he was. The Baron - a very young man whose father had recently passed and was just getting acquainted with the trappings of nobility - was beside himself in welcoming Jaskier into his home. In an effort to impress his new friend, the Baron gave a grand tour of his estate, showing off such ostentatious trumpery as made Jaskier’s lip want to curl in disgust. 
The people of the Baron’s land - poor, impoverished, barely managing to bring in the crops - could live for a thousand years just on what furnished one sitting room. 
Finally, when it seemed that Jaskier was growing tired of him, the Baron made a last-ditch effort to curry favour.
“There is one last thing, my Lord,” he hesitated, nervously tugging on the lace cuffs of his richly embroidered doublet. 
Jaskier resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he looked at the younger man. “Oh? Have you left it to last because it will capture my attention like nothing else? Or did you simply forget about it until now?” He was trying for gently chiding, but he couldn’t help the slight edge. 
The Baron’s cheeks coloured a ruddy shade of red as he squared his shoulders. “I believe your lordship will find it quite entertaining. I’ve captured a Witcher.”
“Have you now?” All of Jaskier’s attention was on the Baron now, who was grinning madly. “How did you manage that? I’d heard they were beastly men capable of killing whole armies.” He’d heard nothing of the sort, but if he wanted to see the Witcher this horrible man had locked in his dungeons, he needed to remain in character.
“Beastly indeed, my Lord. My men took him while he was sleeping. He was under the influence of some drug or other, I’m not sure, but he did manage to injure a fair number of them before he was contained.” The Baron hesitated and Jaskier held his breath, waiting. “Would you… like to see him, my Lord?”
Jaskier pretended to contemplate it for a moment or two before flapping his hand vaguely. “Well, all right. As long as he’s contained. No sense in putting ourselves in unnecessary danger, wouldn’t you say?”
The Baron was eager to comply. He led them down into the bowels of the castle, beyond where light could reach, so that they only had smoky torches to see by. Guards followed them to the top of the stair and then waited. At Jaskier’s raised eyebrow, the Baron dismissed his concern, stating that this was the only way in or out, and that the WItcher was thoroughly chained - no danger to them.
At the bottom of the stairs, in the open stone walled room, the torchlight glinted off matted silver hair. The Witcher was chained to the wall, thick metal links leading down to the cuffs encircling his hands and feet. He was curled up against the base of the wall, turned away from the entrance, but he slowly looked up at them, cat-slit pupils contracting against the light.
Despite the way they’d parted that last time at the top of a wind-swept mountain, it took a considerable amount of effort for Jaskier not to drop to his knees at the sight of Geralt before him. 
Instead, he curled his lip and sneered, turning to the Baron. “He doesn’t look like a Witcher. Are you certain he’s not simply some feral mountain man you’ve mistaken for one?”
The Baron bristled at the implication. “He took out eight of my men with only his two hands and teeth! And those eyes! That alone marks him as a Witcher.”
“Hmmm. I suppose you’re right,” Jaskier mused, managing to keep his haughty aire as he looked Geralt over, wincing at the dried blood still caked on his body. Delicately Jaskier raised a handkerchief to his nose and sniffed. “If we may retire to somewhere less… odious, my good sir?”
After that, Jaskier was treated to a lavish supper and then retired to his assigned rooms. It was laughably easy to unlock the windows and let Eskel into the castle in the dead of night, making sure his fake retinue escaped the same way. 
The two men snuck down to the dungeon, Eskel dispatching the guards with ease, before heading down to free Geralt from his chains. 
“Ah, wolf, I’d say I’m disappointed, but I’m glad to have found you before something worse happened,” Eskel murmured as he unlocked the manacles from Geralt’s wrists. The other Witcher just nodded, barely meeting their eyes as they made their way back out of the dungeon - gathering Geralt’s swords and armour along the way - and then to Jaskier’s rooms where they climbed down the stone facade to the castle grounds. 
Eskel ushered them through the darkened gardens and into the woods surrounding the castle. Eventually they came upon the horses he’d left there and mounted up, heading away from the Baron’s grounds as quickly as they could. 
They made camp near a lake just as dawn broke. Eskel deemed them far enough away that they wouldn’t easily be found, but he still went out into the surrounding woods to set traps and hunt while Geralt stripped out of his tattered rags and slipped gratefully into the cold water of the lake. 
Jaskier watched him from the shore as he idly stoked the fire. He had no idea what he should say now. Rescuing him was as far as his thoughts had gotten, past that he wasn’t sure what to do next. There was a hollow feeling behind his breastbone and a tremor that was starting in his limbs that he might attribute to exhaustion, but felt like it came from somewhere else. 
He was drawn from his thoughts as Geralt came to sit on his bedroll across from him, fully dressed in breeches and shirt he’d pulled from Eskel’s packs, and carefully not meeting his eye. They sat like that for several minutes, neither wanting to break the quiet before Jaskier - true to form - couldn’t take it anymore. 
“I suppose you’ll be off after this, then?” he asked briskly, poking at the fire. He’d meant it to sound light, almost careless in a way, but it came out more as accusatory. 
Geralt hummed in answer, staring resolutely at his hands. Eventually he looked up, catching Jaskier’s eye. “Thank-you. For coming to find me. For bringing Eskel.”
“Yes, well, couldn’t leave a Witcher chained up in some idiot lord’s dungeon,” Jaskier blustered. 
“I know - when you saw me - you must have thought of leaving me there,” Geralt’s voice was quiet, and Jaskier looked up at him in surprise. “I know you must hate me, for all I’ve said and done - “
“No,” Jaskier cut him off, sharp and decisively. “No, Geralt. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.” He sighed, running fingers through his hair. “That’s the problem.” He looked down at his hands. I guess we’re doing this now, he decided, thoughts pushing themselves out onto his tongue. “I was your friend. I followed you. I sacrificed so much for you. I loved you - “
“Loved?” Geralt asked, voice cracking on the word. “But not anymore?” He hung his head. “I - I can’t expect that. Even if I apologize for those words every day for the rest of my life - “
Jaskier barked a strangled sort of laugh. “Well, that might be a start.” He smiled ruefully, and his heart twisted, the hollow spot in his chest filling, just a little, at the look of naked hope in Geralt’s eyes. “Just a start.”
“That would be enough.”
62 notes · View notes