Tumgik
#i threw out a bunch of clothes for spring cleaning but i still have some shit coming in the mail
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New chapter on my Wattpad story called "spring cleaning" please go check it out or read here both are preheated
!!!Announcement, I see the creepypasta place as a campground with a mess hall and a bunch of indivision cabins, with a select group in each, some bigger than others.!!!
!!!BEN AND JEFF ARE BOTH TEENS!!!
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It's a warm spring day at the campground, the wind is blowing and the breakfast bell has just rung. 
Ben and Jeff race to breakfast after hearing the bell while they play argue.
"I'm gonna be first this time" Ben yells at jeff
"You wish" jeff already ahead yelling back at Ben
And not so surprisingly jeff makes it to the mess hall first.
Ben yells "dammit you bitch"
Jeff states "Ha, shorty can't run"
Slenderman looks pissed but after everyone that was gonna come to the mess hall gets there he stands up and makes an announcement "I expect you all to be doing your spring cleaning today, I will come around for a check later this afternoon anyone who fails to clean will be due to extra coarse for the rest of the month.
Everyone sighs and goes back to eating
Ben and jeff still play arguing and decide to go back after breakfast and get started with the cleaning.
While arriving EJ already had trash bags for them and their room. (they share a medium-sized room)
They both take a trash bag and head to their room.
Both been and jeff start by getting all the shit out from under their bed and putting it in a pile, then they start going threw it and put things into piles other than the trash like; clothing, books, dishes, etc.
after that's over with they put all the clothes away and the dies go back to the mess hall or in the kitchen, which they had in the cabin.
They stumble onto a picture, it's of them but not as what they have come to be now, it's older and on its last legs. They decide to put it in a clear bag and put it on the wall remembering the good times they used to have and are still having to this day.
Ben and jeff are also reminded of the fact that both of them still have a crush on each other just as they did when they were human-like.
Ben starts to blush but then tries playing it off and asking jeff if he wants to play video games (aka one of the only things he can beat jeff in) Jeff says yes and they carry on with their game of Mario cart.
After a couple of rounds of Ben, beating Jeff, they decide to go to the kitchen to grab a snack.
while making some cereal Jeff's dumbass hand decides to fuck it and drop the box while trying to put it back on the shelf. Ben and Jeff rush to pick it up avoiding a lecture from mama jack (EJ) while getting almost done with the cleaning the two of them end up going for the same area and grabbing each other's hands, they get flustered and say like that for a while, till jeff snaps back into reality and pulls his hand away while blushing.
Ben was still completely lost looking at his hand, his face as red as a tomato.
Jeff looks at ben and is confused and starts thinking to himself "does he like me as well? no, he couldn't he's probably just embarrassed to have touched my hand, yeah that's gotta be it!"
Ben then finally comes back and picks up the last bit he sees resulting in the both of them deciding not to get anything and go back to their room. they sit on the bunkbed thinking about what to do next.
Ben is overthinking things atm due to his malfunction in the kitchen, he couldn't help but notice how jeff was looking at him and how he was red too, ben couldn't keep the secret of liking his best friend anymore I mean fuck it has lasted till the afterlife.
Jeff saying things Ben isn't listing to while trapped in his head he finally hears jeff calling his name jeff is confused and asks "hey man, you ok?"Ben replies "yeah I just have something I really need to tell you," Jeff says "ok, shoot" Ben starts to look around and mumbles something incoherent jeff says "speak up man" and Ben blurts out "I LIKE YOU MORE THEN A FRIEND!" and starts to get really flustered and Jeff is too stunned to speak and gets flustered as well ben says a small "sorry...." while tears start to sing in his eyes, Jeff starts stammering and stumbling over his words till he gets out an "I like you more than a friend too!" and ben with an excited deminer says "REALLY!?" jeff; laughing at how happy he looks nods his head. 
Ben jumps up onto Jeff's lap giving him a big ass bear hug "um... ben I still need air" states jeff Ben replies "nope" Jeff replies "ok ;-;" 
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And from then on out they lived happily ever after, I hop this story finds you well and I hope to have people who enjoy this type of thing, I'm also open to suggestions and ideas.
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megane-thirst · 3 years
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planning to stock up so i will have 3 short-sleeve pajama sets on hand (i have 3 long sleeve sets that i moved under my bed bc im an insane person who has summer/winter wardrobes to justify owning too much clothing)
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systlinsideblog · 3 years
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PART 1
There have been many Ubaras in the history of Gor. Indeed, even today there are many, who rule this city or that land, sometimes alone and sometimes alongside mates. Our own beloved Ubara of Turia is well known as a fair and just lady, and a great patron of the sciences.
But forever when the words “The Great Ubara” are uttered, there will be no doubt as to who they refer to. She came from nowhere, and in her hands she brought power, and it was that very night that the beginning of the time of the Great Burning of the Whips commenced…
-Sansha, scholar of the Tower of Tyra, history division, 537 AGU (After the Great Ubara.) Excerpt from her work “The Great Ubara; the coming of Systlin, the Warrior, Lady of Swords, Lady of Burning Whips, and the ending of the slave culture of Gor.”
   It hurt, the...whatever it had been. One moment, and she had been preparing herself to ride out to hunt wraithen with her Bloodguard, and then there had been the scent of rising Power, sharp as the air before lightning, and the world had gone dark. 
When her senses returned, she had a splendid monster of a headache, and she could see nothing but tall bronzed grass. Her cheek was pressed against the ground, and every joint hurt. 
She blinked, blearily, and the grass came into slightly sharper focus. She was lying prone in a field, that much was clear. 
Systlin made an effort to push herself upright. Her arms trembled and gave out, and she got a mouthful of dirt and grass for her efforts. 
"Pitting hells." She spat dust and tried again, this time managing to rise to her knees. 
The grass rippled in the breeze, empty and endless. She spat more dirt and wiped her mouth on a sleeve. 
Something was niggling at the back of her mind, sending little alarm bells up. Wrong Wrong Wrong Wrong!!!
"Of bloody course something's wrong." She muttered this to herself. "Bloody fuck am I?"
The grass whispered in the breeze, rippling like a sea. She did not know this plain. 
She had walked and ridden through every land in the North, had ridden the southern deserts, had walked the walled gardens of Myr. 
She did not know this plain. 
Her hands dropped to her belt on instinct. The hilts of Ice and her dagger were comfortingly solid. 
Something's wrong something's wrong. 
She got to her feet. The motion was easier than it should have been. She paused, and bounced on her toes a few times, testing. 
Systlin Stellas had spent the majority of her life training her body into a supremely tempered tool. She knew herself well. And she knew, immediately, that her weight was wrong. Wherever she was, the pull of gravity was less than what she had been accustomed to for the last fifty years. 
"Pitting hells."
On the horizon, dust clouds were rising. She shaded her eyes to see, and could pick out dark moving figures, coming her way.
If Systlin had been in any doubt as to the wrongness of this place, the riders approaching her removed it. The riders were men, that was clear enough. But the creatures they were riding, while they resembled horses, very much were not. 
If horses had paws and claws like great cats, eyes set forward in their head, and fangs like a wolf, then perhaps they would look like the creatures the men were riding. 
I am going to flay whoever did this to me alive. 
She held her ground as the riders approached. Their beasts had caught her scent; that was clear enough. 
Perhaps fifteen feet from her, the men pulled their beasts up. They began to circle her, curious. Systlin tracked them, listening to the pad of those great paws in the grass. 
Finally one of the men spoke, and Systlin blinked. Because the words he was saying...the words themselves meant nothing. Systlin had been well educated as a child; she spoke eastern and western Northron fluently, and even the dialect from the Skyfire Reaches. She spoke Rabi almost as well, the less formal clan dialect as well as the formal, stuffy Myran form. (Sura claimed she still had a Northron accent, even after all these years, but also claimed to be fond of the 'exotic' way it made her sound. Systlin, therefore, had never tried too hard to lose it.)
She spoke Siulekean passably well. All in all, Systlin could make herself understood no matter where on Ellinon she found herself. 
And yet, these words were strange. And still, though they meant nothing to her ears, she felt a flicker of Power, and in the back of her mind she heard the words in her own native Northron. 
"Wench!" The taller of the two men, riding a mount of a handsome bay, was looking her up and down in a way that raised her hackles. "Look here! A wench who thinks herself of warrior caste!"
They both laughed. 
"I don't think it." Thirty years on the throne and fifty of dealing with the curse of her Power had given Systlin self control of tempered steel. She kept her voice mild. "I know it." 
She spoke the words in Northron. But the same little tingle of Power rose, and she saw the faces of the men register surprise. She grinned then, showing her teeth. 
"I want," she said, with all the command that an upbringing as a Crown Princess, commanding men and women in war, and thirty years on the throne had given her. "To see a witch." 
They looked at her for a heartbeat, and then as one both men threw their heads back and laughed as if what she had just said was the most wonderful joke. 
"A wench commands!" The man on the gray cackled. "You'll hold your tongue, wench, when spoken to. You are our prize, now." He grinned at her, leering. 
"No." Systlin said, voice level. "I will not, and am not. And if you call me 'wench' again, I will cut your tongue out of your head and make you wear it as a necklace." 
More laughter. "She's fire! I may keep her, Sathak, and break her to my collar. She looks strong; she could do much work in my wagon."
Steel whispered against wood and leather. Systlin shifted into a stance as easily as she breathed, sword and dagger drawn. 
"Wench!" The rider on the gray again. "Put those down; they are men's things. You are our captive now, and you will submit or die."
Systlin didn't move. But she grinned, showing her teeth again. 
They circled, closer and closer. Systlin waited. 
The hindquarters of the gray bunched. By the time it had sprung, Systlin was moving. 
They were nearly as fast as wraithen. Nearly, but not quite; the spring was much the same as the kind a wraithen would use to ambush prey. Systlin dropped low, and Ice swept up. The resistance of flesh, and then she was rolling back to her feet in a low crouch as the horse-creature went down in a screaming pile, its back legs tangling in its own spilled guts. 
A roar of rage from the second man, even as the one on the dying gray screamed in pain as his beast landed on his legs. The second rider roared in rage again, and his arm drew back and snapped forward. 
Systlin didn't bother to avoid the lance; it struck her in the shoulder, smarting slightly; it would probably bruise, but she didn't care. It glanced off of the wraithen scale armor hidden beneath her leather jerkin, and spun to the ground. 
"I told you." Systlin hissed this through her teeth. 
The man drew out a bola, and began to twirl it. Systlin narrowed her eyes, and despite her lingering headache reached inward. 
A flicker of blue, and the leather of the bola burst into flame. The rider screamed again, but it was too late; fed by Systlin's will, the flames spread from the weapon to his clothing even as the bola crumbled to ash. In but a moment, he was a pillar of flame, screaming piteously as flesh melted and hair burned, until at last rider and beast alike were engulfed. 
It did not take long for the witch-fire to eat flesh and bone to ash. Systlin banished the flames then. 
Her head throbbed. She should not have called on her Power so much so quickly, but she'd been angry. 
There was still moaning coming from under the downed, slain beast. She made her way over. 
The rider of the gray's legs were trapped. He was struggling desperately and fruitlessly to free himself, and when he saw her coming he spat a long string of vicious curses at her. 
Systlin ignored these as she stood over him and cleaned the blood from Ice. Sheathed it. She did not sheathe her dagger. 
"SLEEN! Whore! Witch! Misbegotten sleen spawn!"
"I am one of those." Systlin agreed. She crouched over him, near his head. "And I made a promise to you." She raised her knife, and smiled. "You should not have called me 'wench."
 Systlin had, rather than string the man's tongue on a thong, simply set it on his chest. He would likely bleed out or suffocate on his own blood; she didn't really care. 
She cleaned her dagger on the flank of the dead beast as he moaned and gurgled, trying to breathe through the blood in his mouth. 
She squinted, looking at the distant horizon in the direction the riders had come from. 
There was a cloud of dust there, some miles away. She had seen such clouds before, during her time with Sura's riders; it was the sort of dust cloud that came from many animals moving together. 
She began to walk towards the dust. 
It was a long walk. But then, Systlin ran ten miles every morning before she ate breakfast; she was well used to long marches. The lesser effort required to walk in this lower gravity meant that six miles felt like far less. 
She wished, all the same, that she had Siatch with her. A proper horse, not those fanged monsters. 
At last, on the horizon she saw the slow shifting of a great heard of creatures; as she drew closer she could make out what appeared to be wagons. 
Riders on those strange horse-things were circling back and forth and milling around. Some appeared to be playing. Her sharp ears caught the distant sound of laughter. 
As she drew nearer, several of the riders apparently spotted her; the peeled off from the camp and headed towards her at speed. Systlin kept walking, doing a mental count. 
Ten thousand. Perhaps more. She squinted at the wagons, spreading across the plains as far as she could see. 
She kept walking, unhurried, unworried, even as the riders closed. Ice and her dagger were a comforting weight on her belt. 
She smiled to herself suddenly, remembering Sura's consternation when she'd announced her intention to go to the Iron Mountain and the sabbashin. 
"It is suicide!" Sura had said, fearful. "No one comes back from there, beloved, with their mind their own. The Master of Knives takes them, and makes them his creatures, body and soul. I could not bear that for you." 
"Sura." She had smoothed Sura's hair. "You forget what I am." 
Breaker. 
She'd brought down the Iron Mountain. She'd Broken the walls of Myr. She had the power, she knew, to level this whole bloody camp if she so chose. She could feel it curling in her blood, cold and eager, a promise of sheer glorious ecstatic destruction. 
She kept walking, even as the riders on those strange beasts closed on her, lances ready. 
 Kamchak and I were conversing over a midday meal of bosk liver and cheese when the furor at the edge of the camp began. The girl Elizabeth, sulking in the corner of the wagon, looked up at once. There was the sound of a kaiila screaming in pain, voices shouting, and there! The ring of steel.
Kamchak and I were on our feet and running in but a moment, but I was puzzled; the Tuchuks were unruly, it was true, and small skirmishes often broke out, but these were usually settled in ritual combat fought on foot, not with kaiila. This left a raid, and who would ever be foolish enough to raid the main tribe of the Tuchuks? Such was certain death.
Yet, even as we ran along with many other men, there was another pained scream from an injured kaiila, and a cry of pain from a man. The smell of charred flesh drifted on the air, and a plume of smoke. There was a great confusion of shouting, and I could not make out any single voice in the furor.
We came around the corner of a wagon. Now I could see down the wide grassy lane that ran down the middle of the camp, to the source of all the furor. I expected to see a war band, or even a whole attacking tribe.
I did not expect what I did see, which was a woman.
She was standing over the corpses of three kaiila and at the least count seven riders. She held a sword in her right hand, and a long dagger in her left. Her legs were spread, planted into a fighting man's stance. I noted that she stood with excellent balance. 
Her hair was dark, and her eyes quite blue. The hair was pulled back into a plait down her back, and the eyes were cold. There was a fey light in them, and I noticed to my great unease that the corpses of two of the slain riders at her feet were gently smoking. 
She was splashed and spattered with blood, and did not seem to notice this or care. 
She wore a leather tunic, and trousers of wool. Her boots were leather, and fit close to the calves; I noted, that the shape of calf and thigh was sturdy, muscular. Her forearms were lean, wiry, corded with more muscle than I had before seen on a woman. 
The slaves and Tuchuk riders and dour Tuchuk women were silent. To my abject shock, though the Tuchuk warriors greatly outnumbered her and stood with weapons drawn, they were hanging back. 
As I looked past her, I saw at least three more dead kaiila and more corpses of warriors further from camp. 
The woman spoke. In the oddest way, though the sounds she made were gibberish to my ears, understanding came nonetheless. 
"I said." Her voice was cold, and commanding. "That I want to speak to someone of power. And for the fifth time, I am no captive, or slave, and the first hand to get near my ass is forfeit." She jerked her chin at the corpses near her feet, as if to emphasize her point. "And if you keep insisting on doing things the hard way, I will be quite happy to kill every bloody man in this bloody shithole and burn this camp down around your ears, I swear on  the Lady's name. I have had a very bad day, and it would honestly be a pleasure. But if you can help me to get home, we'll forget this whole unpleasant day ever happened."
It occurred to me that she was attractive, if far too muscular for Gorean tastes. 
"Who is this wench!" Cried Kamchak, "Who thinks herself a warrior?"
The blue eyes of the woman darted to him, cold and furious. She should have, were she sane, been terrified at the looming mass of Tuchuk warriors, fierce and scarred, that were gathering before her. Each was gripping his lance, but the caution of their brothers had spread and they hung back to a man and looked to Kamchak.
She did not look frightened. She looked angry, but the anger was wrong. I am used to the anger of women; it burns hot and passionate and rules them. This look, though, was one of cold and measured anger, restrained and absolute.
"The last man to call me that," her voice was low, and despite her sex the hairs on my neck and arms stood up in warning, "Drowned in his own blood after I tore his tongue out. What is wrong with you people?"
"Kamchak," said another of the Tuchuks nearby, his voice low in warning. "She is but a woman, but she has killed fifteen of our warriors, and thirteen trained kaiila. She is a sorceress." He pointed to the smoking corpses of riders. "She can summon fire from air, and fights like nothing I have seen. We should fetch Kutaituchik." 
Kamchak looked back up at the woman, eyes narrow. She met his gaze, fearless, chin up and eyes narrow. 
"What are you called, sorceress?" Kamchak asked. 
"Systlin Stellas." Her voice was still cold. 
"Very well. We will take her to Kutaituchik. Sheathe your weapons, woman, and follow me." 
She eyed the gathered warriors, and then spun her sword. It was a neat little motion, well practiced. I knew it; I used a similar motion to flick blood from the blade of my sword before I sheathed it. This was, indeed, precisely what she now did, but the speed of it was startling.
The long knife and sword slid away into sheaths of rich leather of impeccable quality. The fittings of each were gold. I saw more than a few Tuchuk warriors eyeing them greedily, and thought that the warrior who claimed them would strut them about for a very long time.
“What I said holds.” She said, coolly. “Any hand laid on me, I take off at the wrist.”
Kamchak laughed. “You’ve fire, woman, I’ll grant you. Almost enough to make me think it would be worth the effort of collaring you.”
“If you’re so keen to die,” She said, her voice colder still. “Go on and try.”
He laughed again, but his eyes were narrow. “Fifteen warriors?” He asked.
Systlin raised her eyebrows.
“Hadrak says that you killed fifteen warriors of the Tuchuk.”
“He’s mistaken.” Systlin’s voice was still level.
“Ah!” A look of victory in Kamchak’s eyes.
“I killed seventeen.” A slight pause. “I am assuming those outriders on the bay and the gray were of your tribe?”
Hadrak hissed in fury. “Oman and Hadar!”
“Yes, I thought so.”
“Oman was my brother! Kamchak…”
“I said we would take her to Kutaituchik.” Kamchak said. “And that is what we will do. No doubt Kutaituhcik will see your case, but she may be given to the brothers or kinsman of any of the others she has slain to be punished as well.”
“Will I?” Systlin sounded almost amused, and I realized that she was of course quite mad.
“Of course you will. This way.”
“Yes.” Her voice dripped scorn. “Of course I will.” But she followed, and around her closed the ranks of the Tuchuk warriors at her back. She was now quite trapped; even the greatest of warriors could not hope to fight free of the main camp of the Tuchuks; they boasted three thousand warriors of great strength and skill.
I wondered if she would be collared, or simply killed. She was attractive, if too strongly built, but a master could monitor activity and diet to remedy such things. She was, no doubt, fiery and strong-willed, but such women, it is said, make the greatest and most passionate slaves once broken.
Ah, well. The only way to find out was to follow, and so I did.
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whumpmatsus · 3 years
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Ooo my bad, maybe Jyushi gets a stomach ache and Kara tends to him? Giving him water or something to ease the pain. Or getting him to lay down and rest!
aaaaaaa I love them 😭
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To be completely fair to Karamatsu, his choice of restaurant isn’t really to blame for Jyushimatsu’s appetite.
In fact, it’s debatable that even Jyushimatsu is to blame for his appetite. It’s more the fact that he just eats so fastthat it would be a miracle if his brain registers that he’s had a whole meal before he goes back for more. Typically by the time he processes that he’s full, he’s had two or three more servings.
It’s no wonder that he often ends up with a stomachache if he’s given the chance to inhale more food than he really should. Most of the time, though, it quiets down after a little bit of relaxing and maybe a tummy rub from one of his brothers.
Of course, while the two of them are out at a fast food place, it’s not like they can just lie down in the middle of the floor and try to chill. … Well, they could,but they’d probably end up getting kicked out before making any significant progress.
So the second Jyushimatsu gets a little pale and complains that he’s not feeling too well, Karamatsu’s first immediate thought is along the lines of, We’re fucked.
And in Jyushimatsu’s defense, Karamatsu should have been a better big brother and cautioned him against ordering as much food as he did. Even if he had, however, what else could he have done except give a warning? Jyushimatsu’s an adult, it’s his money from the allowance Dad gave him, and he can make his own choices, can’t he? Or at least he should be expected to. He probably wouldn’t take being bossed around and told what to do, and it’s not like anyone can forcehim.
As usual, though, Karamatsu has let one of his little brothers down. The least he can do is try to make it up by figuring a quick way out of the situation. He springs to his feet, setting a hand down on Jyushimatsu’s shoulder. If they need to move fast, he should be prepared. “Alright, you don’t feel well. Understood, dear brother. Is it your stomach?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Alright… how bad does it feel?”
Jyushimatsu ponders the question for a second, before holding up both hands, covered by his condiment-stained sleeves, over his mouth. “Um. Gonna… gonna throw up.”
Shit.Karamatsu knows his little brother wouldn’t say something so decisive without knowing that yeah, he’s about to hurl. “Alright, let’s get up. Do you want to go to the bathroom here or try to make it to the car where I believe I have a plastic bag?”
It almost looks like he’s considering the possibility that he could make it to the car, then suddenly his face turns a bit green. “― Bathroom!”
That one word combined with his younger brother’s urgent expression and tone of voice spur Karamatsu into action. He moves like lightning, pulling Jyushimatsu to his feet and practically dragging the other man toward the tiny partition on the other side of the counter.
A three-part harmony shriek of horror tells him he probably should have paid more attention to the signs on the doors. He offers a hasty apology to the offended ladies inside as he yanks his brother away from the door. (Although he knows Jyushimatsu is desperate, even this kind of emergency doesn’t constitute staying in the women’s restroomto puke.) As soon as he does, Jyushimatsu gags into his hands and Karamatsu knows they don’t have much time. Once Jyushimatsu starts making audible sounds like that, the full event isn’t too far away.
“I-it’s alright, it’s alright,” he tries to reassure as he tugs Jyushimatsu into the men’s restroom. “If you can wait a second, we’re nearly there!”
He does his best, but they never even make it into a stall. Once the door closes, Jyushimatsu stumbles toward the mirrors… and proceeds to vomit into the sink. Geez.Karamatsu feels himself wince at the thought of the poor worker making like ¥100 an hour who’ll have to clean this up.
Well, he can’t focus on that part right now. This can’t be pleasant for Jyushimatsu either, obviously.
The sound of everything he’s just eaten splattering against the edges of the sink is no match for the way he’s retching and sputtering. It looks like he started out trying to brace himself with both hands clutching the countertop; now, he’s sunk to only having his elbows propping him up, both hands up against the side of his head.
Karamatsu sets a gentle hand on his brother’s back, trying to be of some little comfort while his entire meal comes back up. Though he can’t remember Jyushimatsu ever eating himself sick like this before, he supposes it was bound to happen sooner or later with the way the fifth oldest tends to shovel food down.
He wants to think this memory of his stomach turning itself inside out will serve as a lesson to slow down in the future. To be mindful of how fast and how much he’s eating. Even someone as hopelessly delusional as Karamatsu has to acknowledge that’s a long shot, though.
After a moment the gagging and heaving finally dies down. Jyushimatsu is left gasping as he tries to get his breath back. When Karamatsu peeks over, he sees that there are tears starting to roll down his little brother’s face.
That earns an extra few seconds of back-rubbing from Karamatsu out of pure pity that this was either emotionally draining or physically forceful enough to make Jyushimatsu cry. “Aaah, my little Jyushimatsu,” he hums. “Does it feel a little better now that you’ve been sick?”
He nods weakly. “A little. I… think I ate too much, Karamatsu-nii-san.”
“Hmph, I think so, too.” Karamatsu reaches over to grab a handful of paper towels, pressing them to Jyushimatsu’s mouth. “Next time you might eat a bit slower or listen to your big brother telling you not to eat so much. But… it’s alright. What else are big brothers for, but to care for their younger brothers? I think perhaps we should go home.”
“Mhm, yeah. I wanna lie down and snuggle a pillow against my stomach.”
Well, that certainly sounds like a plan. “Alright, then. How about a drink for the ride home? Something easy to settle your stomach.”
“Ooh… Sprite?”
“Mh, I think they have that.” He gives an affectionate squeeze to Jyushimatsu’s shoulder. “Will you be okay by yourself for a moment while I go get that and dispose of the trash we left on the table?”
“Yeah, mhm. I’ll hold onto the counter.”
Ah. Yeah. That’s a relief. At least it’ll keep him from getting dizzy or passing out if he tries to move on his own. “Good! I’ll be back before you know it.”
Karamatsu can’t apologize enough to the person working at the counter of this place, telling them that his baby brother threw up in the bathroom sink and he’d clean it up if he could but he should get his brother home just in case andalsoasmallSpritetogoplease?
For once, he can kind of understand why people think he’s painful. The cashier has this blank look before muttering, “Excruciating…”and ringing him out for the drink. He kind of wishes the floor would open up and swallow him and he’s pretty sure he now knows how Ichimatsu feels when talking to people all the damn time. He’s surprised he doesn’t just burst into flames from the sheer awkwardness.
After a bunch of apologies, he manages to herd Jyushimatsu into the car so they can head home. He does find a plastic bag for his brother to hold, just in case he feels like throwing up again, just until they get back.
To his credit, Jyushimatsu is calm as can be on the ride home. He sips at his Sprite and closes his eyes so he doesn’t feel motion sick and hums along quietly to the radio. He’s so cooperative Karamatsu wants to ask who the hell he is and what he’s done with Jyushimatsu.
When they walk into the house, he ushers Jyushimatsu through the main rooms, up the stairs, and onto the couch in the spare room. The others save for Totty are spread out among the floor; Choromatsu and Osomatsu seem to be reading, and Ichimatsu has a cat cradled up in his arms… wrapped in one of Karamatsu’s shirts. Fantastic. Nothing like cat hair all over his clothes so he’ll be all itchy and sneezy when he decides to try and steal it back.
As he tries to get his brother set up on the couch, Choromatsu seems to fully realize what’s going on. “Oh, hey, you two are back. That was pretty fast. Uh… is Jyushimatsu okay?”
Jyushimatsu waves his hands in the air. “I threw up!”
“Tch.” Ichimatsu shifts in position, stretching one leg out. “That’s what you guys get for going to a shitty burger place. Next time just eat here where the food’s free and won’t make you hurl.”
Karamatsu plops down onto the floor in front of the couch, and is promptly slapped over the shoulder by one of Jyushimatsu’s jellylike arms. “Hmph… as I’m still spectacular, you should already know it wasn’t the food. Sweet little Jyushimatsu just ate too much of it.”
“Geez,” Choromatsu chuckles as he gets up, “someone’s eyes are bigger than his stomach. Well, you guys are home now, so you can relax and maybe start feeling better.” He brushes a hand over Jyushimatsu’s stomach and earns a soft mewl of gratitude before pulling away. “How about I make you some ginger tea?”
Karamatsu moves to get up almost immediately. “Oh, no, Choromatsu, I’ll get it! All the rest of my dearest brothers were already relaxing, so allow me to―”
“Nooooooooo,” Jyushimatsu interrupts with a whine, pulling him back down with now both arms. In a. Very. Tight hold. “I want you to stay with me, Karamatsu-nii-san!”
“Ah…! Okay, alright…” He tries to take a breath and pats lightly at his brother’s hands. “A-ah, my sweet little Jyushimatsu… let go… ahahaha… b-big brother’s not going anywhere, I promise, so you can let go of him!”
“Aaaaaah.” Jyushimatsu’s arms go lax, though he starts tugging on Karamatsu’s hand while his brother tries to get a decent breath in. “Belly rubs?”
“Hmph… sure, anything for my dearest younger brother. Just let me know if I’m being too rough; I would never want to hurt you.” He adjust himself so he can still be in a comfortable position while being able to reach Jyushimatsu’s stomach, giving tender strokes as well as he’s able.
The door slides open and Choromatsu gives a quiet hum at the scene. “Well, you both try to chill out, then. I’ll go get that tea, alright?”
“Heyyyyy,” Osomatsu suddenly speaks up. “Can you make some for me, too?? Or maybe a beer? I’m thirsty!”
All he gets in response is the sound of the door shutting.
The eldest pouts. “Hey, I know you heard me!! You’re such an ass! Grab me a beer, Fappymatsu!!”
Karamatsu lets out a low laugh and continues to carefully rub at his little brother’s stomach. “Hmph, so things are totally normal around here. At least that’s a comfort, isn’t it, Jyushimatsu?”
“Ah-hah! I’d feel weird if we got home and everyone was being all nice to each other.”
“Heh.” He leans his head back with a soft sigh. “That’s right. You only need onebig brother to be nice to you and that’s me. Any other requests besides the tummy rubs, you beautiful bastard?”
Jyushimatsu giggles and nestles his head closer against Karamatsu’s. “Hmmm… nope! I think I’m good just like this.”
Karamatsu closes his eyes. “You know… I think I am, too.”
28 notes · View notes
Text
Surprise call
Warning: Just smut :)
WC: 1846
Enjoy x
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It was kind of an unwritten agreement you had with Nick, he was like the boyfriend you didn’t have and he was the best partner. He had always told you that if you went out on a girls night and you wanted to drink he would come and pick you up no matter what time to make sure you got home safe, telling you that after midnight you weren’t to step foot in a cab, even if he had to drop your friends home as well he didn’t mind.
You played it off to everyone that he was just being a good friend but deep down your heart was his but there was no point trying to cross that line with him and wreak what you had. But naturally your friends all knew how you felt about him, meeting him multiple times at the end of a girl’s night, seeing how he would wrap an arm around your shoulders and kiss the top of your head as he walked you to his car. But tonight you decided for a dry night at dinner wanting an early night after a busy court week with Rafael,
“You come out dressed like that and Nick isn’t picking you up. You going there after?” You almost chocked on your sip of pineapple juice, your friends laughing at you. “So you haven’t told him yet I ‘am guessing”
“Of course she hasn’t told him”
“She probably never will”
You rolled your eyes and scoffed,
“You know I’ am sitting right here yeah” you looked between the three of them “What I ’am I meant to tell him? Nick I’ am madly in love with you and want to be yours and I want you to fuck my brains out” You all started laughing.
“That’s exactly what you need to tell him” Your friend nudged you.
“Me too Y/N, me too” Nick said over the phone knowing full well you wouldn’t hear him, but he knew what he had to do.
Nick had been your last call on the way to meet the girls, he wanted to double check that you didn’t need him to pick you up, that he hoped you had a good night and if you wanted to do breakfast the next morning. You hadn’t realised when you hung up from him, you didn’t lock your phone before you put it back in your clutch. Nick was surprised when your name came back up on his screen and when he answered you didn’t talk to him, but heard the conversation about him. As much as he knew he should hang up he couldn’t, so he sat on the other end of the phone listening to the conversation.
It wasn’t even 11 and you were finally home. You had messaged Nick to say you were home and you would see him in the morning. You put your heels away, but were still in your black short leather high waisted paper bag skirt that had a frill around the hem and a white sleeveless top tucked in. You made yourself a quick rum and coke popping in the ice when there was a knock on your door. You knew it was Nick, you had worked with him long enough and he had been over plenty of times to know it was his knock.
You started to walked towards your front door and just to be sure shouted “Who is it” Nick answering back with “it’s me”. You walked to the door taking off the bolt and opening it to Nick in a pair of track pants and white tight fitted t shirt, a big smirk on his face looking you up and down,
“The girls were right, you go out dressed like this the one night I don’t pick you up” Your mouth dropped opened and he took a step closer, hooking his pointer finger in the waist of your skirt tugging you towards him, his eyes so intense your knees trembled,
“Ho-how did-“ you gulped hard your face burning.
Nick’s face was so close to yours, you were breathing in his air, his lips almost brushing on yours,
“I was surprised when you called back. I had only just spoken to you, I thought you changed your mind and wanted me to come and get you later” Nick was whispering “When you didn’t say hello I didn’t hang up straight away and I heard everything”
You gasped your cheeks burning hotter and you didn’t know what to say. Nick started to walk you back into your apartment, closing the door behind you both with his free hand. Nick took his finger out of the skirt waist, hooking his arm around you, his lips colliding with yours and he walked you into the wall, your hands going to grab his hips pulling him into you closer.
You both sighed into each other’s mouths as your tongues rolled together. Nick nudged your legs apart with his knee, pushing your skirt up with his free hand his thigh resting at your centre. Nick broke the kiss panting heavily, his forehead resting on yours,
“You have no idea how long I have wanted you for. How long I have had feeling for you for, but I didn’t know if you felt the same” Nick whispered.
“I didn’t make it obvious?” you panted back.
“You did, but I just needed to make sure before I made a move” Nick lent forward his lips landing on your neck.
Nick moved his leg from between your legs, kissing down your neck and down over your clothed body sinking to his knees. Once on his knees, Nick pushed your skirt up so it was bunched around your hips, his fingers tugging your panties down to your ankles. Nick helped you step out of them and threw them near the front door, looking up at you and you cupped his cheek running your thumb over his bottom lip,
“I know you want me to fuck your brains out, I do too and I will. But I want to do something that I have been wanting too for a long time first”
Nick lent forward his lips landing on your thigh kissing up it in open mouth kisses. Your head falling back on the wall. Nick grabbed your thigh lifting your leg up to throw it over his shoulder and you gasped when you felt his tongue run along your lower lips, your one leg trembling when he did it again, the tip of his tongue flicking your swollen nub. Your hand came to the back of his head, your hand tugging lightly on his hair when you felt him suck on your clit and pushing two fingers into you finding your sweet spot almost instantly when he curled his fingers in a come here motion.
“Oh god Nick” you moaned loud your coil winding tighter and tighter as he ate you out like it was his last meal. You started to grind down on his face, his face covering in your juices. Nick pulled back, his fingers trusting into you hitting just the right spot every time, your free hand coming up to grope at your breast and you groaned loud when you felt his thumb connect with your clit.
Nick looked up at you with hooded eyes as he reached down with his free hand to rub himself through his track pants before taking his thumb away from you, leaning forward taking it between his lips again flicking it with the tip of his tongue. Your hand in his hair balled into a fist pushing his face into you more and you screamed his name loud as you came all over his face.
Nick pulled completely away from you getting up and pulling you off the wall, his arms going around your waist lifting you up off the floor carrying you into the lounge room,
“Did that live up to your expectations?”
“Very much so” Nick purred back as he sat on the couch with you on his lap.  Nick reached into the pocket of his track pants pulling a condom out ripping it open rolling it on once he had push down his boxers and track pants enough for a long hard member to spring free.
You bit your bottom lip resting your hands on the back of the couch lifting yourself up slightly to line up with him, Nick’s hands on your hips guiding you down till you were fully sitting on him, both your mouths slack as you started to rock your hips over him. Nick pulled your shirt out of your skirt pulling it over your head throwing it on the floor and then unclipped your bra doing the same.
You were rolling your hips down on Nick fast and deep your head falling back, your orgasm approaching hard and fast. Nick cupped your tits in both hands pushing them together giving them a slight squeeze as he kissed all over them, his tongue running around both nipples. You were so wrapped up in the feeling running through you that when Nick sucked in some skin on the top of your breast and pulled off with a sharp pop you moaned loud,
“Your mine now Amor, isn’t that right?” Nick’s hands where now on your hips slamming you down on him as he thrusted up into you chasing his own release.
“Yes Nick, yours, all yours- Oh god Nick” you screamed your head falling forward onto his shoulder your body filling with such an intense orgasm you hadn’t even realised Nick was grunting your name loud before he flopped back on the couch, his body covered in sweat, his hands on your hips gripping you firmly.
“I- wow” you took in a deep breath getting off Nick to sit on the couch next to him still trying to catch your breath.
“Wow is right Amor” Nick chuckled breathlessly, kissing your shoulder and rushing off to the bathroom to clean himself up.
He was back in a heartbeat leaning over the back of the couch, his hand turning your head towards him, his lips crashing on yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth. Nick broke the kiss walking to the front door picking up your discarded panties and coming back to sit on the couch wrapping an arm around your neck pulling you into him, brushing his finger tips over the mark he left on your skin,
“Where do we go from here?” you said above a whisper.
Nick kissed your forehead, his free hand running up your thigh,
“We keep doing what we are doing just with a title now. If that’s what you want? It’s what I want Y/N”
“It’s what I want too. But” you paused.
“But” Nick raised an eye brow at you pulling you back to straddle his lap with a smirk.
“No marking where it can be seen Nick- promise”
Nick laughed cupping your cheeks, his lips running along yours sending sparks through you,
“Promise Y/N”        
Tags: @beccabarba​​​​​​​ @thatesqcrush​​​​​​​ @witches-unruly-heart​​ @permanentlydizzy​​​​​​​​ @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo​ @amorestevens​​​​​​​​ @alwaysachorusgirl​
65 notes · View notes
ressyfaerie · 3 years
Note
For the Bryan/Mariah I was thinking like a cute date sort of thing. Like they go for coffee or get ice cream in the park and walk. Like he's not sure why people do these things but he was told this is the type of things you do with a girl you like. Hope that helps! So excited
This sounds SO CUTE. I have been thinking about this for a few days… and I think you’re going to enjoy this :) Anyways, it’s 2AM here, and I sorta ship them now lmao.
“It’s the end of the tournament, and you’re springing this one me now?” Tala sighed. 
Bryan knew he shouldn’t have said anything to his team captain, but he was desperate, after all, in a few weeks, he wouldn’t be able to see her again. 
“Y- Yeah, it has to be now. Because soon- I won’t be able to see her.” 
Tala raised an eyebrow, “she better not be one of the girls from the competition.”
Bryan didn’t make eye contact, Tala rolled his eyes, “Seriously?” 
Bryan nodded. 
“Well then? Spit it out.” 
Bryan looked at him quizzically.
“Who is it?” Turns out, Tala is a bit of a gossip queen. 
“I’m not telling you.” Bryan put up his defense, the truth was, he really wanted him to know, he needed advice. Bryan had no clue how to deal with a crush. 
“There’s only so many girls in the tournament I can easily guess.” 
Bryan rolled his eyes. 
“Hilary?”
“Are you nuts?” Bryan smirked. 
“J- Julia?” 
“Naw man, plus I know you think she’s hot-”
Bryan was surprised to see Tala blush a bit, Tala shook his head and continued.
“Oliver?” 
“Not a girl-”
“Oh, right.” 
“Oh.” Tala’s eyes grew wide, “Don’t tell me- Miriah?” 
Bryan felt his face heat up in red hot waves. 
“Oh my god, Bryan.” Tala began to laugh, “you know, Ray will be pissed.” 
“I know-”
Tala kept laughing.
“What!?” Bryan asked aggressively. 
“I didn’t know you were into big titty catgirls.” 
“Shut up- it's not like that- I actually do like her. I don’t just think she’s pretty. 
“Really?” Tala was taken back, his friend’s first real crush, it was hilarious, but strangely- cute. 
“Yes! So what do I do?” Bryan begged for answers, when it came to the realm of love, he was completely lost. 
“You think I know about girls?” Tala scoffed, “me?” 
Bryan shrugged.
“I don’t know Bryan. Just ask her out, what do girls like? Coffee? Movies? Dinner? She seems like she would like those.” 
“Not a bad idea… I’ve seen her drink… Tea.” 
“Do it, ask her out.”
Bryan knew the best time to ask her out would be after her practice with the white tigers. She always stayed a bit longer to practice and clean up, so she left alone. 
He approached her confidently, with a note Tala told him to bring in his hand. 
“Um.” He walked up to her adjusting his collar. 
Miriah turned her pink-haired head to stare at him, she blinked, “Um, can I help you?” 
“Hi, it’s me, Bryan- um” His face started to flush, he was really out of his comfort zone. 
“I know who you are Bryan,” she smiled. 
Her pretty smile just made him more nervous, his eyes darted side to side, “Uh, do you think, you would be interested in an- arrangement- I mean.” 
He held the note tighter. 
She put her hands on her hips, “what kind of arrangement?” 
“Um- Coffee- and a movie? Kind-of-Arrangement..” 
Miriah gave him a surprised expression, he got nervous, suddenly he felt the overwhelming fear of possible rejection. 
“Ugh- here!” He threw the note towards her, she grabbed it suddenly. 
“Bryan?” She asked, but he had already started running away from her. 
He was gone, and she was left holding a note. She opened it, it had directions to a coffee place and a time. 
The next day Bryan wore his nicest casual pair of clothes he had. He waited in front of the coffee place. He was positive she would be a no-show, but she showed up, five minutes early, in a summer dress, with her hair tied up. 
“Hello, Bryan!” She grinned standing in front of him. 
The sun shone down and reflected off her pink hair. He was baffled by her beauty, that was of course, not the only reason he liked her. Her personality was great, he saw her battle, and he admired her courage and determination- 
“Bryan?” She looked up into his eyes to try to kick him out of his daze. 
“Huh? Oh, um- Hi.” 
She blinked a few times, but still wore her playful expression. 
“Do you want- a drink? I’ll buy it for you.” Bryan accidentally sounded overly friendly, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Sure!” 
Inside the coffee shop, it was pretty busy, they had to stand close to each other to fit in line. Bryan could smell a dash of sweet perfume when he got close to her, or maybe it was her shampoo? Would it be weird to ask? 
“What are you getting Bryan?” He was much taller than her, it was especially noticeable when they stood this close. 
He stared down at her, “Um- I’m not sure. What are you getting?” 
“It’s hot- I think I’ll get a cold drink. I’m going to get a tea-lemonade.” 
“Tea-lemonade, that is so cute.”
And he realized he said that out loud. 
“Really, you think it’s cute?” She teased him.
He blushed, his mind swirled, was she really… Teasing him right now? 
“Are you getting coffee? Or something sweet?” 
“Coffee?” By a miracle, he managed to use words, only one, but it was a start. 
“Cold? Or hot?”
“Cold?” He guessed.
“Do you want me to order for you?” 
He nodded. 
She ordered for him, he handed her some cash from his wallet. He worried maybe he wasn’t being assertive enough, but to be honest, he kind of liked her taking control. 
They walked along a beach boardwalk sipping on their drinks. Bryan became aware that he didn’t like coffee as much as he thought he did. He kept drinking it because she ordered it for him, and he loved that. 
“Did you want to see that movie you mentioned?” She asked while rearranging the straw in her drink. 
“Yeah, of course.”
When they got there, Miriah looked at the cheesy romance movie that was advertised. 
“Are you sure you want to see a movie like this?” Her face kind of scrunched up. 
“Don’t girls like movies like this?” He was worried, did he make a bad choice?
“Hmmm, I do, but I’d rather we do something we would both enjoy… I saw an arcade on the way here?”
Bryan grinned, his kind of girl, “That’s not a bad idea.” 
At the arcade he got a bunch of change and gave her a handful, when he dropped it in her open palm, he touched her fingers with his, this sent a shock through his body, he tried to play it off. 
“What kind of games do you want to play?” 
She thought for a moment, “You’re good with guns right? Can you show me a shooter?” 
“You want to watch me play a shooting game?” He didn’t understand. 
“Yeah!” She clapped her hands together with glee, “Can you show me how?” 
Bryan had guided her to some kind of zombie shooting game. He put some change in the machine and picked up the fake gun. 
“This is easy to use, you see the guides?” 
She tried to angle herself so she could see over his shoulder, “Not really…” She admitted. 
“I guess your angle is off… Um- here.” 
He held out the gun to her, she hopped on the small stage and accepted it. He was close enough to smell her sweet scent again, this time mixed with tea-lemonade. 
“Okay, hold this part to your shoulder, and now look through these two holes- you need to line them up- there,” he stood back a bit, he watched her form, “perfect.” 
“You think so? I’m still not sure how to line up the holes…” 
“Here…” He leaned into her, he reached for her hands, she nodded to say it was alright. He places his hands on hers and leaned his head on her shoulder, “like… This.”
“Oh! I get it. Thank you.” 
He was jealous, she didn’t even stutter, she was so confident, he felt so small. He needed to show her he could be confident too. 
He stayed in the position he was in, he didn’t want to move, he wanted to stay like this. He could feel the sleeve of her dress against his cheek, he savoured every moment. 
Then he felt her whole body move, she had started shooting, and he was thrown away from her. 
“Sorry, Bryan! These zombies just started appearing!” 
He laughed, his kind of girl. 
They played different games for hours. Until they were comfortable making casual conversation, and the arcade started to die down. No one was around this secluded corner. 
“Oh my god, DDR!” 
“That dancing game?” 
“Can we play?” She sounded so excited, she was already putting coins into the machine. 
“Dancing? Me? That stage is so small, I’m afraid I’ll break it.” 
“You’ll be fine,” she leaned over the bars, matching his height. Her hair was now undone and dangled over her shoulders, her face was uncomfortably close to his. 
“Okay, I will. You’ve convinced me.” 
“Yay!” She squealed, and put more coins into the machine. 
Bryan stepped onto the adjacent side of the stage, the old metal squeaked a bit under his weight. He knew how to play, the rules were simple, but he wasn't prepared. 
When the arrows came down Miriah moved expertly, he was more like an elephant lost in a thrift store. 
“Ah!” He complained, but she just giggled. 
He joined in laughing with her, until he lost his balance.
“Bryan!” She held out her arms helping him regain his posture, but she was- holding him. 
 The light from the machine illuminated the arcade, the announcer kept yelling about their low score, but they didn’t move. He got himself upright, but they still held each other’s arms.
“Why did you ask me out Bryan?” She asked just above a whisper. 
“I think- I think you're remarkable.” He admitted and managed to keep eye contact with her. “I think- you’re really cool.” He grinned. “What do you think about me?” 
Miriah gently pulled a hand away from his grip, she let it fall down his cheek. The feeling was foreign, and he felt his body melt in euphoria. 
“At first I thought you were just another angry demolition boy- but- After today.” She let her thumb glide down to his chin, just barely grazing his lower lip. “I think you’re really cool too.” 
He let out a singular laugh, air got caught in his throat, he decided to go for it before he made himself overthink. 
He leaned into her, angling his head just a bit, so their lips touched. 
He wasn’t sure exactly how to do it- but it felt nice. They pulled apart for a moment, he angled his head a different way, and they did it again. 
She giggled, “You have really soft lips actually…” 
“Actually? How dare you-” He teased her, bending down to do it again
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mizumelona · 4 years
Text
set me up | atsumu x reader
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SYNOPSIS: You’re an ambitious career woman, who’s got everything…except a significant other. Your mom, sick of you showing up to family functions alone, sets you up on a series of (terrible) blind dates. You make these dates meet you at your favorite restaurant, Onigiri Miya, but for some reason the owner’s jerk of a twin brother always happens to be there exactly when things crash and burn.
NOTE: I had a ton of fun writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoy. Things are finally starting to pick up between Atsumu and the MC hehe.
MASTERLIST
PREV | DATE 2 - THE LYING, CHEATING BASTARD | NEXT
TAGLIST: @awkwardali6106 @kasandrafaye @veggytaled @svtbitch @stinkyobeymerat @hollypastl @differentballooncollection @o51oc @sunboikyo00 @justxanotherxshipper @kaisemieita
~
Onigiri Miya. Sunday 10:55AM
You did a quick survey for a certain dye job jerk as you opened the door and stepped into Onigiri Miya. The coast was clear. Awesome.
“Glad ‘Tsumu isn’t here?”, Osamu called out to you as he continued wiping dishes. You’d stopped by nearly every day this past week, and had gotten in the habit of chatting with Osamu while he prepared your orders. Yes the amount of onigiri you ate was getting a little ridiculous but at least you were eating real meals and not resorting to soylent. Surprisingly, you hadn’t encountered Atsumu during your visits.
“Hey Osamu! Haha yeah it’s just that I have another date today and I don’t trust him not to butt in”
“Yeah I wouldn’t either”
Just then, the door chimes jingled. You quickly fixed your hair and turned to put on that demure smile you’d been practicing, but it was immediately wiped off your face as your least favorite blondie walked through the door.
“Pfft. That smile was even more ridiculous than the last time sweetheart”, Atsumu said with a chuckle, setting down his bag and taking a seat at the bar. “Though I hafta admit I didn’t expect to see ya here so soon” He looked you up and down. “Another date?”
“None of your business lemon head.” Atsumu grimaced at the nickname. “I still can’t believe you two are related. You’re my favorite Osamu” You smiled and held out your fist. Osamu put down his dishcloth and walked around the counter to fist bump you back.
“Woah. Woah. Since when didja become buddies”
“Since ya left for your training camp this week”, Osamu said matter-of-factly.
“Ooo are you jealous?”, you said with a sly smile.
Atsumu let out an incredulous noise. You were about to let out a little snicker when as if he’d gotten some kind of brilliant idea he narrowed his eyes and his lips curled into a smirk. Oh no. Your date was about to show up any second. You did not have time to deal with his antics.
“Lemme tell ya now sweetheart, I’m a much better friend than ’Samu”
As if on cue, the door chimes jingled again. The timing was bad but there was nothing you could do about it. You smoothed out your clothes and turned putting on the demure smile again.
You quickly evaluated your date. Tall. Round eyes. Dimples! Dark wavy hair tucked under a blue baseball cap. He had the kind of smile that made you hold your breath. What a catch. You couldn’t believe this guy was still single. Thank you mom!
“Hey! Are you y/n?”, he said. His eyes were quite literally sparkling.
“Yes that’s me!”
“I’m Daisuke. Thanks so much for coming. Sorry, my mom’s been getting a little carried away with her schemes to get me on dates”
“Same!”
You stood there looking at each other for a moment. Maybe this whole dating thing wasn’t as bad as you thought.
“Hey do you want to grab a seat over there?”
“Yeah sure”. You guided Daisuke to the same table you used last week that was as far away from Atsumu as possible.
While you were busy getting situated, Atsumu turned to Osamu with that devious smirk still on his face.
“‘Samu, let me borrow that”
“Wha- ‘Tsumu!”
~
“It’s weird because before it was like they didn’t want me to date at all, but now it’s like…”
“Hey!” A voice piped in. Oh no. “Welcome to Onigiri Miya! What can I getcha today?”
You turned toward your server with a clenched jaw. Sure enough, Atsumu was standing there wearing Osamu’s apron with his blonde hair sticking out from under Osamu’s cap. Your eyebrow twitched.
Daisuke was unphased. He probably hadn’t even realized that it was a different guy from the one that greeted him at the door. “Hi! Could I get the unagi rice ball”
“‘Course! How about you miss?”, They both turned to you expectantly. You were seething, but now was not the time to be breaking down. You needed this date to work. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
“I’ll get the minced tuna and spring onion rice ball.” You looked Atsumu straight in the eyes. “Please~”
“Okay gotcha. I’ll be back with your food real soon.” Atsumu gave you lazy smirk and sauntered back toward Osamu. He’d better not be coming back. Osamu threw an apologetic look in your direction, weakly mouthing a sorry.
It looked like you were going to have to take things into your own hands. You turned to Daisuke. “Hey I actually forgot a part of my order. I’ll go tell him real fast and be right back”
“Oh do you want me to go inste-“
“I can do it”
You gave Daisuke a little smile then stood up and stalked toward the bar where Atsumu was chatting with Osamu, grabbing him by his sleeve.
“What do you think you’re doing”, you snapped.
“Woah there. I’m just trying to save ya from yourself sweetheart.” He smirked. “Let’s face it, that last date was a trainwreck. I’m helping’ ya out here”
“Don’t mess with me. Helping? Do you think this is funny?”
“Of course”, he said with a chuckle. This bastard. “Ya want some strawberry juice? On the house. Might help you chill out. Mr. dimples over there is lookin’ a little freaked out”
Shit. You glanced back at the table. Daisuke was watching with a worried look. You quickly released Atsumu’s sleeve.
You leaned in and whispered “Stay. Out. Of. My. Date.”
You went back to your seat. Daisuke still looked concerned.
“Are you okay?”, he tentatively asked.
“I’m fine!”, you quickly quipped back.
“Here’s that strawberry juice you asked for”, Atsumu arrived with a glass sloshing with magenta liquid. He placed it on the table with a wink and walked back to the bar.
“So where were we again…oh yeah dating…” Daisuke said turning to look out the window. He froze, then quickly pulled down his hat and turned away.
“Hey is everything okay?”, you asked.
“Oh. Yeah! Totally”, he tried to sound nonchalant, but everything about him was suspicious.
You looked out the window towards where he’d been looking. There was a fashionable looking woman about the same age as you staring into the restaurant. She looked pissed.
“Hey Daisuke, do you know that person?”
“Huh, no, not at all” He let out an anxious laugh.
Suddenly, there was a sharp knock against the window. You jolted in your seat. The woman had walked up to the window and was currently glaring daggers at Daisuke.
“Are you sure? She looks pretty upset”
“Yeah, you can ignore her”
The woman rolled her eyes and walked away…or so it appeared. Two seconds later the door to the restaurant opened with a slam.
“Daisuke!” Her heels clacked she made her way over to the table you were sitting at.
“Shit”, Daisuke muttered.
“You lying, cheating bastard! Another girl? I saw you with Risa yesterday and Hana the day before that” She turned to you. “Hey I know he looks cute, but trust me he’s not worth the trouble. He’s just going to find another girl once he sleeps with you”
“Ah…” There went your perfect date. You should’ve known he was a little too good to be true.
She turned back to Daisuke. “You are absolute trash.” She picked up his glass of water. Oh no. You leaned away as she dumped it over his head, avoiding any stray splashes. Whew. You relaxed in your seat. What is this? A K-drama?
She scoffed and turned away. Her bag swung with the motion making contact with the glass of juice which in turn sent its contents flying over the edge of the table and onto your lap with an audible splash. You bit your lip then let out a deep sigh and looked down. Your (formerly) spotless cream shorts were covered with bright pink stains.
“Oof”, you heard Atsumu and Osamu say in unison from the prep station.
“Oh sh-. I’m so sorry about that”, she tried to apologize, but you weren’t listening.
She hurriedly pulled a bunch of napkins out of the nearby dispenser sopping up whatever was left on the table. Thankfully there wasn’t much to clean on the chair or ground because it had all been absorbed by your clothes.
“I think that’s enough”, you sharply cut both the woman and Daisuke off.
You stood up, stalking toward the cash register, and snatched a bill out of your wallet, handing it to Osamu. “Hey Osamu, I’m so sorry about this mess, could you switch my food to takeout”,
“Uh sure,” He stuffed the finished rice ball into a bag and handed it to you. “But are you o-“
“It’s fine~”, you said with a slightly manic chuckle. “I’ll be going now”. You opened the door and let yourself out in one swift motion. You paused outside of the restaurant, looking down at yourself on more time. You bit your lip to suppress the desire to shout profanities and started walking back toward your apartment.
The restaurant door opened again followed by the sound of footsteps approaching you. “Hey!” You recognized that voice but hoped he would just go away. You didn’t have the patience for another fight with the petty lemon head.
“Y/N, Wait!”
You stopped, turning to face him with crossed arms. “What”
He dug through his bag and pulled a black sweater out, holding it out in your direction. “Here”
Your jaw clenched. “I don’t need your help”
“‘Course not”. He stepped forward still holding it out. “This is me being selfish”
That was a bit surprising and even a bit gentlemanly. You were stunned. You paused for a second then reached out and gripped the fabric.
“…thanks”
You tied it around your waist, covering most of the stain.
He stood there watching you for a second, then with an unexpectedly sincere looking smile he adjusted his bag on his shoulder and started walking back towards the restaurant. “See ya later sweetheart”
~
Later that night you picked up the sweater from where you’d tossed it before you went to shower. Some of the juice had gotten onto it, but I was black so it probably wouldn’t stain. It smelled faintly of the strawberry juice as well as a light cologne. You held it up taking a closer look at the logo on it.
MSBY Black Jackals
What’s that? You picked up your phone and ran a quick google search. A variety of pictures of guys in black uniforms chasing after blue and yellow balls showed up. You paused, recognizing Atsumu in one of these pictures. He was leaping into the air about to smack a ball with the biggest grin on his face. You had to admit. He looked a little cool. Just a little.
“Volleyball huh”
219 notes · View notes
cracked-pean · 4 years
Text
Get the Memo
Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Derek Hale, Sheriff Stilinski (Mentioned), Cora Hale (Mentioned) and OFC! Cousin Stilinski.
Word Count: 3017
Warnings: Stalking (I think that’s what you call it. That’s what I’m gonna go with.) but really it’s more fluff so don’t worry too much.
Summary: People just don’t seem to get the memo around here.
Requested by @stellastyless
Masterlist
A/N: Hi dudes.So as you can see. Yes this is a request. My first one actually. I’m gonna be honest. I was excited and nervous when I saw i had a request come in. I was scared that I was gonna mess it up, or it would turn out wrong and not be what they expected it to be. So, that’s why it took a while for me to post this up. But, honestly once I started writing, I got in the zone and this basically took a mind of its own. So, I hope you enjoy it. Sorry for any errors.
+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+
It was a normal weekday, the middle of March, the Spring season was just beginning to bloom and the weather outside was nice and cool. Just right for families and their kids to be out and about. But, it was also the season for final projects to be assigned for students, and Stella just happened to be one of those students. Her dark and platinum streaked hair hung loose off the edge of the bed as she laid upside down. A book was being held above her face as her eyes scanned the pages. There was a book report that she had been assigned that was due by the end of May, when she was due to finish. Of course, Stella wasn’t one to slack off on school work. Always one to be ahead of such things. She didn’t receive perfect grades by doing nothing.
Just as she was about to turn the next page, her bedroom door slammed open.
“Hey Cuz, it-”
“Ow, fuck,” the girl swore as her book made contact with her face. Sure any item would hurt, but since it was a hardcover. Well, it just caused her pain a bit more. “Dammit Stiles. Haven’t you heard of knocking,” Stella sat up while holding her nose.
Stiles stifled a laugh, “Not my fault you decided to hang around like a Bat.” He got shot a glare from her blue-grey eyes.
While she put away her book on her desk, he walked in and made himself comfortable on her bed.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of?” Stella leaned on her desk with her arms crossed against her chest.
“Dad’s got the night shift, so it’s just gonna be us two tonight for dinner.”
Stella has been living with her Uncle John and cousin Stiles for 2 years now. There were some things circling about her in her hometown. Some lies were being spread from people she thought were her friends, could trust them, and loved her just as much she did them. Sadly, that wasn’t the case. So she thought enough was enough. After thinking it would blow off, Stella decided to leave. Right after graduation, she discussed it all with her parents and moved to Beacon Hills to live with her uncle and cousin, and continued her studies there.
The Stlinkins were more than happy to have her. Especially Stiles. Despite the 3 year age difference between them, those two were like siblings. So, once he heard the news, the then 16 year old made everything ready for her. Cleaned the house, the spare bedroom where she would be staying and bought some things she would like, to decorate her room with. Sure all that wasn’t necessary to do. The girl could care less, as long as she felt welcomed, but the sheriff didn’t have the heart to stop his son. He was quite amused if he was being honest.
“You mean, us two plus Scott right,” she questioned with a raised eyebrow.
“Well I mean, if you wan-”
The girl interrupted his blubber, “I know he’s downstairs, dude. You two aren’t exactly the quietest of pairs,” she teased.
The two walked down the stairs into the living room. There on the couch sat Scott scrolling through his phone, he looked up when he heard the cousins making their way over. He gave Stella a smile and greeted her. She returned him a small one and muttered out a quiet ‘Hey’ then made her way to the kitchen.
It wasn’t that Stella didn’t like Scott, she was just a bit closed off. She didn’t really trust people that often anymore, since everything happened. Sure she was polite and greeted them and such, but making them her friends was not on her list. So when she moved here, she had to grow used to being comfortable around the guy. Scott did have the face of a cute little puppy, but Stella wasn’t going to fall for it so easily. It wasn’t till a few months later that Stella accepted him but as more of an acquaintance. It was with all Stiles’ friends that she’s met. Just mere acquaintances.
“Ok, well we don’t have any groceries to make anything, cause somebody forgot to buy them,” she said while shooting a look at Stiles, who was avoiding eye contact. “So you guys decide what to get as take out and I'll just go pick it up.”
With that she went up to her room to get ready. There wasn’t much for her to do. She still had on her clothes she wore for class earlier. A black tank top criss-crossed on the front, and knee ripped jeans. All she had to do was put on her ankle boots and her light jean jacket. She unplugged her phone and went down to meet the boys.
“-ask nicely. You’re paying anyway.” Stiles stood in front of a smiling Scott, with a look of betrayal on his face.
“So what’s it gonna be boys?”
“Thai. From the restaurant near the mall. But, can you also swing by the store and buy some tubs of ice-cream? Please,” with looks the two were giving her, you’d think they were in middle school and not seniors in high school.
Ice-cream? She thought. That sounds pretty good right now. Ok.
“Fine, but you’re taking my turn on buying groceries,” she walked towards the door and grabbed her keys. “Course I’ll pay my turn, but you’re going.”
“Yes, deal,” her cousin wrapped his arms around her and smooched a kiss on her cheek. She laughed and she playfully wiped it off. He handed her off the cash as well as what flavors to buy.
After a 15 minute drive, Stella arrived at the town plaza and parked. The thai place was just across the street from the convenience store. She figured it would be best to pick up the food first then head over to buy the ice-cream, so it wouldn’t melt from the wait.
While she was getting out, Stella noticed a group of three guys, around her age, hanging near by their own cars. They were all laughing and messing around, but they quieted down a bit once Stella walked by them to get inside the restaurant. The small bell above the door rang, signalling them they had a customer. Stella gave the front lady her order and was told to wait a few minutes as they got it ready for her. Once the cashier disappeared behind the double doors to the kitchen, the bell rang again. The brunette didn’t really give it much thought as she tapped on her phone, but she felt a bit weird afterwards. She scanned the shop a bit and noticed a pair of eyes looking right at her. It was one of the guys from outside.
He must have been the one to enter. He had taken a seat a few tables down from her, where she was waiting on her order. The guy gave her a small wave along with a flirtatious smile while his other hand propped up his head. Stella gave him a tight smile in return, and instantly regretted it. Old habits.
Apparently he took it as a sign to make his move, because he got up from his seat and made his way over to her. She sneaked a look behind him, where the doors to the kitchen, to see if the lady was out yet. She wasn’t.
Stella internally groaned. She wasn’t scared of him. She knew how to defend herself and could easily take him if need be, but that took so much work and she didn’t really feel like making a scene. So she sucked it up and decided to shoo him away first with words.
-
Words weren't helping and she was just about to snap at him. No matter what she did or threw at him (verbally) he could not take a hint. After waiting for a while, the lady finally showed up with two plastic bags apologizing. Stella waved it off nicely and without a second look towards the guy, she left in the direction to the convenient store nearby.
But that damn guy was very persistent in getting her attention. She was walking towards the crosswalk while trying to ignore his calls from behind her. Honestly, Stella was about to drop-kick him and make her way back to her car and drive back home, ice-cream forgotten. But she noticed another guy near the crosswalk light on his phone. As she neared, she got a better look at him.
Derek Hale.
Stella had seen him hang out with her cousin and his friends and knew he was in that small circle of people that Stiles’ trusted. From what she could gather up about him was that he was sort of the silent caretaker/big brother of the bunch. He was quiet but there were also times he would join in on the fun with the others. Derek and her would have small conversations when he would come over to the house when the others were over. They sort of had this pull towards each other that they didn’t seem to mind on having. But it was nothing further than that. Though a friendship was slowly growing amongst the two.
So before she could stop herself, the words seemed to blurt out of her on their own.
“Hey, babe.”
Derek’s head shot up at the loud shout near him and noticed the familiar hair and grey, blue eyes making their way over to him. There was a small confused look on his face when she got closer to him. Before he could fully react, the girl’s arms wrapped around him.
“Play along, the guy’s been following me,” she whispered in his ear.
That was all it took for Derek to reciprocate the hug and place a small kiss on her head while sneaking a glance behind her. The guy had slowly come to a stop with a bit of confusion on his face. He was sure that the girl had arrived on her own. He would have remembered the guy, he wasn’t hard to miss.
“Hey, I see you got the food. Ready to go?” Derek asked the girl just loud enough for the other to hear. And if the smile he had given her made her heart flutter a bit, she refused to acknowledge it.
“Yeah, just got to get the ice-cream and we’ll be good to go.”
Just then the walk sign glowed signalling the two that there were able to walk across. As if the two had done this a million times, Derek took the bags of food from her and she instantly latched her hand in his and wrapped her other arm around it and leaned her head on his shoulder as they made their way across.
The comfortness that came upon the two was strange. They had never been this touchy feely before. The only touch that had come between the two was a handshake. That’s it. However, the two did know that they were oddly ok with this closeness. They didn’t feel awkward or like it was force. With Derek’s history and also being closed off with people, the first time he had met Stella he did not have a problem or feel any discomfort from being in her presence.
Same with Stella. Even though she had wanted to be more cautious about the new people she met here. She had felt this strange pull towards the male.
“I’m sorry, I know this must be awkward for you. My mouth just likes to speak before it let’s me think things through. I’m sure you had things to do,” she spoke while nearing the store.
“Don’t worry about it. Cora knows I’m running late already, there’s no hurry. How long has he been tagging you?” he asked as he opened the door for her. Not once letting go of her hand.
The store was pretty big for being on the corner. It was big enough where they could talk in normal voices and not be heard by others on the other side. And for them, this was good. Because the guy followed them in.
“Eh, about 30 minutes or so,” Stella then began to explain to him how it happened as they walked up and down random aisles.
Derek started to feel a sense of anger and protectiveness build up in him. He didn’t know why. Was it because she was Stile’s cousin and didn’t want to upset him? Because if something were to happen to her Derek would feel at fault with him there? Cause he cared? Maybe even liked her?
“Now we’re here,” she leaned down to grab a few candy bags, “and since we are, you want something? It’s On Stiles,” she asked him as she held up ‘Troli Sour Gummy Worms’ and ‘Sour Patch Kids’.
He let out a small laugh, “I’ll take the worms.”
“Really now? Most people would go for the sour kids,” she tossed two packs of them into the basket she held.
“Well, I’m not most people,” he shrugged.
“No. You definitely aren’t,” Stella mumbled.
She turned towards him again and could catch a glimpse of the stranger still keeping tabs on them. Stella went to grab Derek’s hand again and he could feel her tense up. He gave it a small squeeze and pulled her closer towards him by wrapping his arm around her shoulder while hers was across her chest. No matter if Stella could defend herself the situation was still frightening. This guy has been following her for a while now and still wouldn’t leave her alone, even if Derek was with her. They then walked towards the frozen section nearby.
“He still there?” he asked quietly. His voice was nice and soothing enough to bring her nerves down a bit.
“Yeah,” she sighed and leaned in a bit into his chest. “I mean what more could this guy need to leave us alone,” She then paused as an idea came to her. She placed one of the ice-cream tubs in the basket and turned to smile softly at Derek. This was crazy but desperate times call for desperate measures. Derek’s back was toward the stranger so he wasn’t able to see the nervous grin Derek gave her.
“Kiss me.”
Derek’s eyes popped wide open. How could she say it so casually with that cute smile on her face.
“What?”
“Kiss me. It’s our last option at this point.”
Derek placed his hands on either side of her cheeks and slowly brought their lips to meet each other. Their eyes fluttering shut in the process. Her stomach started doing flips. She did not expect to have this reaction from it. His lips were soft and caused her body to have goosebumps. Stella’s arms came up around his midsection and grabbed a hold onto his shirt from the back.
Derek could not tell you what it was that possessed him. Could have been the idea to make this whole plan seem real as possible, the desperation to finally get rid of the guy or his compressed feelings were starting to make themselves known to him and this fake couple thing was just a boost. But once her smooth lips met his and he felt the warmth of her skin in his hands. He was gone.
What was supposed to be a short, quick kiss. Turned out to not being that. The two were like in a trance. They didn’t care who could see them right now. Sparks were going off in their heads and shooting through their bodies. And the reason behind this whole thing was long forgotten in their heads.
After what felt like hours, which was actually like a minute, they pulled apart. With Derek’s hands still on her cheeks and her arms on his waist, they just stared into each other’s eyes. Blue meeting green. They were slightly out of breath, from the shock they felt from the kiss.
“Did it work?” Derek was the first to break the silence.
“What?” Stella asked, still in a slight daze.
“The guy. Is he gone?” he asked while his thumbs softly rubbed her cheeks.
Stella blinked herself back to reality and shifted her eyes behind him around the store.
They were so occupied with themselves that the guy hadn’t realized that he had indeed left. He was still confused throughout the whole thing but, he had finally gotten the message and left the store.
Stella let out a small breath and relaxed completely. The weight lifted off her shoulders. She returned her gaze to the man in front of her and smiled.
“Yeah, he’s finally gone,” she embraced him in a hug and rested her forehead on his chest.
Derek smiled down at her but internally relaxed too. He was sure that this was not going to end well. But, thank god it was all settled.
“Thank you. I owe you one dude.”
“Don’t worry about it. As long as you’re safe now, that’s all that mattered to me.”
Derek wasn’t sure what to do next. But he for sure was comfortable in their place and didn’t want to let go. Stella was in the same boat. This whole experience was such a rollercoaster for the two. They obviously had feelings for each other, just didn’t know what to do about them. They were both sort of similar. The trust issues, the fear of being close to someone again. But they had somehow found familiarity in that. Because of their pasts, they knew what to do and look for from now on.
“Is it bad that I just want to stay here for awhile?” she spoke against his chest.
“No,” he pulled her closer to him. “I’m quite alright here too.”
And if the store clerk noticed the couple just standing near the back with melting ice-cream in their basket. They didn’t mention it or seemed to mind it. As long as they bought something.
38 notes · View notes
aliceslantern · 3 years
Text
Give/Take, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 14
Ienzo has been too busy since the war to be overwhelmed by the past. But with little progress to be made in his work with Kairi, old nightmares start to invade.
Riku is a glorified housesitter. Lonely and faced with no choice but to wait for a way to find his friends, he eagerly accepts when Ienzo asks him to help do repairs around the castle. Before long, the two strike up an unlikely friendship, united by their dark pasts and their attempts to be better people.
But just as they begin to consider something more... Kairi wakes up.
Ienzoku (Ienzo/Riku), post-Melody of Memory, slow burn. Updates Thursdays until it's done.
Chapter summary:  Ienzo and Riku continue to pass the time together. Ienzo realizes something about their relationship.
Read it on FF.net/on AO3
---
The next few days settled into a mostly peaceful rhythm. Riku showed him more of the island sights; they spent most of a full day with Kairi shopping in the bazaar. Ienzo met a few more of Riku’s other friends as well, and like his parents, they were somewhat mystified by his “alien” presence. Already Even had messaged him asking him when he would be done “lazing about” and when he could be expected back, but Ienzo hadn’t responded. He didn’t want to think about Radiant Garden right now.
He knew at some point he’d have to tell Riku the whole ugly truth of his past, and while he knew Riku was unlikely to vilify him for it, he nonetheless wasn’t looking forward to it. He was content in their soft, sweet bubble, in this reality that they were just a normal couple.
They made out often and tried touching each other several more times, and each time Ienzo would draw so awfully close to just coming already. Riku tried doing it a few different ways, but it really did seem to be his mind stopping it all from… functioning. Ienzo wondered if at some point he’d just get so pent up his body would win the fight. He hoped it would happen soon; all of these hours spent getting hot and bothered and going nowhere was practically making him ache.
Riku said that day was “cooler”, so they would go to this mysterious falls at last. “It’s a hike, but an easy one,” he told Ienzo. They took the bus (which itself was a fascinating and strangely nostalgic experience; he couldn’t be sure if he had vague memories of taking a streetcar with Even) to the trailhead, and when Ienzo looked up at the incline he almost balked. At least this all seemed to be shaded by trees. This might be easy for Riku, who was physically fit and had probably gone through far harder on his journeys.
But Ienzo was a sedentary researcher.
Noticing his trepidation, Riku squeezed his hand. “I promise the first part’s the hardest, and then it all gets really gradual. It’s worth it, I swear.”
“It better be. You may be carrying me out on a stretcher.”
True to form, the first incline was utterly nightmarish. Between the humid air and his general softness, Ienzo was struggling to breathe, and he felt like a quitter every time he had to ask for a break. There was not a part of him that wasn’t sweaty, and he found himself glad he’d actually bought a pair of decent climbing shoes like Riku had advised. He actually felt dizzy. At the top, he had to sit and rest against a rock. Riku didn’t even look out of breath. “You okay?” he asked, cautiously.
“I’m alive,” Ienzo said, still gasping. “Barely.” Once he had caught some semblance of breath, and drank down some water, they kept going. It was easier, but not as easy as he’d hoped, and he found it hard to appreciate the wildlife. Ienzo tried to push through the pain. At first he thought the noise he heard came from his heart throbbing in his ears, but it turned out to be the falls. At last, at long last, they reached the peak.
And Ienzo understood. “Oh,” he said, softly.
“It’s thought that the islands formed out of the magma from volcanic explosions,” Riku said, in a low voice. “That volcano is right there. But over time… and I’m sure you understand the science of it better than I do, the volcano became a spring.”
“Oh,” Ienzo said, utterly losing eloquence. Suddenly it didn’t matter that he was hot and sweaty and nauseous and his legs would be aching for days.
He’d seen a lot in his days as Zexion. But again, he’d never been there to be a tourist, to appreciate the worlds he was trying to strike down.
There were crystal and mineral patterns in the falls caldron all the way down, in at least a dozen colors, glimmering faintly in the diffuse sunlight. The freshwater flowed from the top, almost deafeningly loud, to a large pool at the bottom, the water a slight bluish color from the minerals. Ienzo could see a manmade path weaving all the way down, a wooden safety rail lining it. The water washed up onto a shore of black sand.
Riku took out his phone. “Want a picture of you with it?”
“I’m sure I look awful.”
“You look like you’ve conquered something.”
Ienzo rolled his eyes. “Only if you’ll join me.”
It took a bit of fineagaling to get an image that was halfway decent. This settled, they started making their way down. “Weird, normally this place is packed,” Riku said. Only a few people were down swimming in the caldron. “Oh well. I won’t question it.”
“It’s the semifinals,” Ienzo said. “Your father was talking about it.”
He laughed. “Design by accident.”
The walk down was fairly easy, but Ienzo dreaded the climb up, then down again. He’d worn his bathing suit, at least. They had a quick, simple lunch. At least here by the water it was mercifully cool, and Ienzo nearly moaned aloud when they finally eased in. Considering it was springwater, it was cold, but a welcome cold. The water had a slightly metallic tang against his lips.
“Worth it after all?” Riku asked, smirking.
“God, yes.”
They floated here a while, just enjoying the water and each other’s company. Eventually Ienzo felt brave enough to explore by the falls, where the water got deeper. The mist threw up so much light that the bands of rock glimmered.
At some point they had to leave, though, and by that point with the hike up and the swimming Ienzo was exhausted. Considering aside from the climb out of the caldron it was all basically downhill, Ienzo hoped this would be easier.
It wasn’t. This side of the trail was less shaded, for example, and the heat felt all the more brutal now that he was reasonably cool. His calves were starting to cramp, his nausea had returned, and now on top of it he was starting to feel weirdly faint, trying to figure out why.
“Ienzo?” Riku prompted, but his voice sounded like it was underwater.
The next thing he was aware of, his head was in Riku’s lap and there was a cold cloth over his face. Riku was on the phone, his voice shaky. “Yeah, dad, the trailhead. No, I don’t think I need any help. Thanks a bunch.”
He blinked and tried to sit up, feeling weaker still.
“Easy. Easy. I thought the stretcher thing was a joke.”
“It was,” Ienzo said. “I’m sorry. I’m fine now.”
“No, you’re not,” Riku said, sternly. “You’ve got heat exhaustion. If you keep pushing it it’ll get worse. Drink this.” He handed him a bottle of water. “You’re probably dehydrated too.” He dabbed the sweat off of Ienzo’s face.
Ienzo did, realizing how thirsty he was. “I tried to be careful.”
“No, it’s my fault. The island heat really is brutal, and you’re not used to exercise like that.” He sighed. “Even if you were careful your body still got overwhelmed.”
“And not in the way I’d like,” he muttered.
“Gather your strength for a few minutes. I used Cure on you, but you should still take it easy. My dad’ll drive us back. I wonder if we should take you to a doctor--”
Ienzo felt mortified. “I don’t think that’s necessary. The bus is fine.”
“I don’t want us to wait out in the heat more than we have to.”
Ienzo exhaled. Somehow this felt like another thing he had failed at.
“Really, Ienzo, this even happens to islanders,” Riku tried to reassure him. “I should’ve known better.”
“At least we got a pretty picture out of it.”
When he was finally strong enough to carry on, it felt late. They weren’t all that far from the road at this point. Riku had wanted to carry him, but Ienzo drew the line there. He was more grateful than he wanted to let on that Matsuda was waiting for them.
“Hey, you’re a true islander now,” his father said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s happened to all of us at some point or another.”
“I told you,” Riku said.
Ienzo wished he could enjoy riding in a car more. It was smaller, lower to the ground, than the bus, and much cooler inside. “Thanks for this. I’m sorry to interrupt your workday.”
“Ah, I had to run an errand anyway,” he said blithely. “You don’t think we need to go to the--”
“No, no, please, I’ll be alright,” Ienzo said quickly.
Ienzo was still feeling a bit dizzy. He had to cling to the banister to get up the stairs. Riku insisted he lie down. His skin felt hot, strangely enough. Riku tugged the curtains shut. He heard Riku leave the room and then come back a few moments later with something pink in a mason jar. “Here. This’ll help. Mom’s recipe. It happens all the time to the neighborhood kids.”
Ienzo sipped. He tasted more coconut, some other fruit, and below it all the oily slickness of potion. “I’m so sorry. I ruined the day.”
“No, this is on me. I should’ve known you’d push yourself and not say anything, cause I would’ve done the same thing.” He sighed. “Drink it all. I’ll get you more.”
The juice helped, though he didn’t feel good by any stretch. He wanted to get changed, to get cleaned up, but he just felt weak and exhausted. “If you’re tired, rest,” Riku told him.
“If you’d rather go do something while I’m just lying here--”
“No,” he said, firmly.
After two jars of the juice, Ienzo fell asleep, and wondered if it was something in the medicine. When he woke at last, he realized it had been hours, and the early morning sun was peeking out between the curtains. Dazedly, he looked around for Riku, found him nowhere.
Groggy, he took a shower and went to take the mason jar back to the main house. True to form, it hurt to walk, and he winced.
“Oh, Ienzo, how are you feeling?” Mariko asked, startling him.
“Much better,” he said. “Thank you for this.”
“I always keep a pitcher of it in the fridge in summer. Sometimes I swear the weather is only getting hotter.” She sighed.
“Where’s Riku?”
“Well, he came down a little while ago asking if I thought you needed anything else. I said maybe something nice for breakfast.” She smiled a little. “He should be back soon. Can I get you anything? Anything at all? You know what, I’ll go make some coffee.” She flounced off into the kitchen, her loose shawl fluttering behind her.
Ienzo found himself again looking at the photos on the mantle. Riku’s parents’ wedding day, photos of a younger Riku in school. Matsuda holding up a large fish, his son grinning toothily, the front two missing.
“...Here you are, dear,” Mariko said.
“Thank you so much,” he said.
“Why don’t we go sit on the patio while we wait? You can see the ocean.”
He followed her. The temperature, for some reason, felt much more bearable, despite the hot coffee. They sat on a pair of wicker chairs facing the small yard.
“Alright?” she asked him.
“I was just thinking it’s no longer so warm.”
She chortled. “That’s not true. You’re just forming a callus.”
“To the heat, you mean?”
“Yes. I thought this might happen. Riku was in a panic, Matsuda wanted to take you to the clinic. I’ve seen this before and I said you’ll be right as rain. And you lived, right?”
Ienzo sipped. “Thank god for that,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Well. It has been nearly two weeks.”
“Already? The time is flying.” He almost said that if he were too much of a burden he would be happy to go stay elsewhere, but then he remembered that Mariko would find this rude. “Is there anything I can do to thank you for the welcome you’ve given me?”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I insist.”
She thought about it. “How about you make us one of your dinners, from your world? You explained, but I’m dying to know.”
Ienzo smiled. “That I can do.”
They both looked out at the ocean for a few minutes. Finally, Mariko said, “You’ve had a hard life, haven’t you?”
Ienzo looked at her. “What makes you say that?”
“You… and Riku. There’s a certain… darkness, in your eyes. Something a little haunted. At first, with him, I thought it was teenage angst. But I think he’s gone through a lot more than he lets on. You too.”
Ienzo blinked. “I suppose that is true,” he said. “This… beautiful life, the three of you live here. That all feels so abnormal to me.”
She nodded sadly.
“I’m… an orphan,” he admitted. “My adoptive family, well meaning as they initially were, did not raise me to live an average, happy life. It’s making me realize what I’ve missed.”
“I see,” she said. “Well. You’re always welcome in our family.”
Ienzo felt a sudden wave of teariness. “That’s very kind of you.”
After another moment, “you love him, don’t you?”
Ienzo took a quick breath. “I think so.”
She reached over and squeezed his hand once. “You’re good for each other.”
The back door opened. Riku was carrying a paper bag and a drinks carrier with what looked like smoothies. “Oh… Ienzo. You’re up. How do you feel?”
He looked at him. In the early morning sunlight, his silver hair carelessly braided over one shoulder, Ienzo knew. “Better. Much better.”
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dontkillcoyotes · 3 years
Text
-I woke him up, went to change my shirt. “Don’t fucking touch my white shirt you’ll make it filthy.” Puts down the white shirt and grabs a black one. “Why can’t you wear your own clothes???? Fuck sakes” can’t wear my own clothes, because joeys ONLY CHORE is to do laundry. And he hasn’t in forever. “How’s it MY fault the washer broke? Maybe if you got yours out of your apartment I could actually do laundry” my driveway is currently covered with snow. Some plow pushed it all into my driveway. I can’t shovel it, it’s basically frozen ice. “Well I never met a woman who was too lazy to call the town and get it cleared” I don’t have a phone number set up, he wouldn’t let me pay off the bill. He said he was going to call about it, never did. I spit in his face, and then he spits back at me and calls me a “fat, stupid, ugly bitch who’s disgusting and gross.”
-all our problems are caused by me drinking. No matter what. Quit drinking. Still all arguments are blamed on me drinking. Still don’t understand this one.
-I’m immature because I yell. But Joey isn’t immature for cutting me off, interrupting me, or making me feel like I need to yell for another reason, usually he isn’t listening to me at all and only responds when I yell.
-the names. Constant name calling. I’m a bitch. I’m dirty and gross, I’m fat, I’m stupid, I’m a slut, I’m a whore.
-went to my friend Danielle’s one night. We washed our hair to put it in cute up styles. We put on dresses and had a few drinks. Came home to drop off my clothes. “Why is your hair wet? Why are you wearing different clothes? Clearly you’re trying to impress SOMEONE! Fucking WHORE.” I never hung out with friends again after. (This was before I quit drinking. This situation was used for me to quit drinking because I apparently put myself in situations that don’t look good).
-before I went to Danielle’s I went out to the bar with my friend Morgan. I had a curfew. I couldn’t stay out past 11pm or 12 I can’t remember which. “I can’t trust you when you’re out with your friends. Your friends have reputations. How do I know you’re not just a bunch of whores trying to cheat and cover it up together?” Came home. Was pissy for about a week about this. Questioned me on everything that happened. Would get extremely upset and point out anything. “We had some drinks and I danced” versus “we had some drinks and we went out for a smoke and came back in and danced” apparently they both are different things and because I didn’t mention we went out to smoke before dancing, my words can’t be trusted.
-shot up a bunch of times in front of me during our relationship but still continues to tell people he’s sober. Apparently that’s okay, but the few times I slipped and drank when I quit means I didn’t quit and can’t say I quit.
-gaslighting. Constantly. Over the dumbest shit. “I’ve been awake for hours Libbi I’m just laying here.” He wasn’t awake. I was in the room barely 5 minutes before. When I point this out, I’m clearly a liar, manipulative, and just want to start arguments. Makes me questions all the time if what I said what actually what I said. Makes me doubt whether he said anything horrible at all.
-claims I only want to leave because I have backup men waiting for me. I only want to be a whore if I don’t want to be with him, because he can’t comprehend that I don’t want to be here because he’s abusing me.
-threw my coat on the railing where he left a full mug of congealed chocolate milk. I’m “disgusting, never met a woman so dirty, just destroying everything and making everyone miserable.” Even though when I moved in here, he had a house full of trash. Literal trash he pulled out of peoples spring clean up piles. Did not clean the floor once since he moved in. Dog hair everywhere. Dishes were barely rinsed before being put back in the cupboard. The fridge was broken and food was constantly spoiling. He still ate it.
-went into the store because he complained about going in all the time for me. Almost got into the store when he said “don’t be surprised if I’m not out here when your done. Maybe you can walk home.”
-threatened to kill my cat when I tried to leave the last time. I tried to walk to my old apartment. He followed me all the way there til I was so exhausted trying to get away from his truck by walking in knee deep snow I started throwing up. He picked me up, threw me in the truck and brought me back to his house.
I’m going to update this every now and then. When Joey starts to act out when I leave I need to keep this so I don’t doubt my own memories.
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ninetalees · 4 years
Text
Sufferance, Chapter 4
A/N: Wow, finally finished this lol. I’ll be honest, rushed the end a little and it’s not my best work, but I may go back and rework it sometime; I just wanted to get this out! The first three chapters came out so quickly, lol – the time it took to get this one out is far more on par with how quickly future chapters will be released. Have a full-time job, yo.
If anyone is interested in 'mood music': Listened to this on repeat for the funeral scene, and this on repeat for the scene in the Weald
Anyways, hope you all enjoy regardless! As always feedback is greatly appreciated <3
AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24019411/chapters/62749174
It was a grey, miserable day in Ballonlea.
Hop looked up at the oppressive cloud cover; it made the world seem smaller, somehow. The trees that encircled the village appeared closer to the ground, watchful sentinels hunched together in mourning. He stood a small distance apart from the cortege of mostly Gym Leaders and league officials that hovered around the entrance to the Gym, murmuring goodbyes and one by one departing from the crowd. They were an uncharacteristically monochrome bunch today, save for the bright pink accents on everyone’s outfits: cufflinks, ties, jewellery. Ornamentation fit to honour a queen – or a fairy-type master.
Hop fidgeted in the uncomfortably tight dress shirt that he had worn perhaps twice before in his life and threw an impatient glance at his brother. Leon, who had accompanied him, stood close by with Raihan and Gloria, deep in hushed conversation and with no clear intention to make a move any time soon. Hop sighed. As glad as he was he had been able to pay his respects to Opal for the final time, funerals really weren’t his scene. He had always been someone to break a silence with a joke, to raise someone out of a frown with a playful nudge to the ribs. In short, everything about his manner was far away from the etiquette involved in miserable affairs such as these. That said, the gym had rung with laughter moreso than it had in sniffles during the service – Opal’s legacy was one far more of mirth than of sadness. The roster of Galar’s elite would not be the same without her.
He turned away, wiping his sleeve free of the thin film of damp that had settled there. Appropriate weather for a funeral, he supposed. It was but a drizzle, at least – not utterly pissing. The bodies milling around him had a silver sheen to their dark clothes, as though wrapped in clingfilm. It was in that moment he realised that everyone around him was dressed in black. Bede, who had been adorned in pink, was nowhere to be seen.
Hop looked around, confused. Bede had, of course, led the procession today. Even Hop had to admit he had done a superb job: he had been poised and utterly eloquent, in both his eulogy and his place at the head of the cortege. The pink on everyone’s outfits had been at Bede’s behest, but Bede himself had gone all out, donning an electric pink suit and tie with a rose-patterned shirt, elaborate magenta shoes (Hop hadn’t known you could even get leather in that colour) and a pink diamond earring that sparked on the end of a rose-gold chain. Indeed, in that get-up he was hard to miss, so Hop could confirm immediately that he was nowhere to be seen among the remaining mourners. Despite the ill-will that still lingered between them after several years, it was concerning. Bede’s apparent equanimity could only stretch so far, Hop was sure. Opal’s death would affect him more than all of them combined and he knew if it were him he wouldn’t really want to be alone with his thoughts right now.
He glanced over at Leon one last time to ascertain there was no sign of movement. He was leaning against Raihan, whose hand was resting on the small of his back. No, they wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. Satisfied, Hop stole away to follow the footprints in the mud back towards the graveside, nestled in a small grotto in the Glimwood Tangle. He was glad of the strategically placed glow of the mushrooms that guided his way.
When Hop stepped into the grotto Bede was standing with his back to him, shoulders drawn taut. Hop padded cautiously forward to come and stand by his side. Bede’s face was outwardly smooth, pensive, but the hard lines of his posture were a giveaway, his body a dam braced against the deluge of grief that threatened to crash forth. For a long moment there was no sound but the wind whispering between the leaves and the gentle patter of rain. For once in his life, Hop was lost for words.
“Hey Hop,” Bede murmured at last. His voice was low, a rumble in the back of his throat. He didn’t take his eyes off the soon-to-be-grave.
Hop eyed him. “Hey,” he replied. If the world had seemed smaller before, it was nothing compared to now. All of existence had been whittled down to them and this hole in the ground. There was nothing outside of here but thick undergrowth and grey, grey cloud.
“I…” Hop hesitated. “I noticed you were missing. I thought… well…” What had he thought? What was he doing here? He signed. “I just… wanted to make sure you were okay, I guess.” In that instant Hop wondered why he had been stupid enough to come: what could he possibly have to say that would make any of this alright?
“I’m okay.” Bede tucked his hands into his armpits in a feeble attempt to ward off the cold and let out a long breath. “It was just… so loud back there. I needed a minute.”
Hop chuckled. “Yeah, was quite a turn-out, huh?” he folded his hands behind his head. “Opal was really something. She’ll be missed.”
Bede frowned, and Hop noticed his jaw clench. “Mm,” he mumbled. “Yeah.”
Hop’s smile faded. All too late, he was beginning to realise that whatever state he had expected to find Bede in, it hadn’t been… this. Rationally, of course, he had known the now-Gym Leader would be crushed, but Hop had never managed to conceptualise Bede as someone who existed beyond their former rivalry. He had never paused to consider that Bede possessed an inner life, the capacity for emotion beyond disdainful arrogance. Hop ached with some unnameable feeling as he regarded him now, top-full with grief.
Before he could fully register what he was doing, his arm had reached out to place a hand on Bede’s shoulder. He felt Bede suck in a surprised intake of breath and for the first time turned to look Hop in the eye, his own glassy with unshed tears.
“Bede…” his words were little more than a whisper; there was a lump in his throat all of a sudden. “Bede I’m so sorry.” And he meant it, meant it more than he could ever possibly hope to convey.
Bede opened his mouth. With that tiny movement, Hop felt his entire body shift beneath his touch, testament to the tension that was holding him together. Before he could speak, however, the sound of someone clearing their throat stopped them both in their tracks.
Magnolia stood at the entry-way to the grotto, eyes partially obscured by the netting of her hat. Hop jumped rapidly back from Bede, as though having been burned.
“Professor,” he blurted. “Uh… hi.” Bede remained silent.
Magnolia nodded solemnly. “Hop.” She raised her walking stick for a moment to gesture back in the direction they had come. “Your brother is looking for you. I said I would come and find you, as I was heading this way myself.” Her gaze flickered to Bede, who had turned back to the grave. “I wanted to speak to Bede, if you don’t mind.”
Hop knew a dismissal when he heard one. “Of course.” He took a step back, aware of Magnolia’s eyes tracing his every move. “Bede, I’ll… I’ll see you around. I… It’ll be okay.”
Bede merely nodded, the movement mechanical. Hop eyed him for a second longer, overcome with helplessness. He wanted to stay, to find the right words, but the moment was gone. He was surplus to requirements.
He turned away, mud sucking at his shoes. Magnolia stepped up to take his place by Bede’s side and he disappeared back into the undergrowth without a word.
Once out of earshot, compelled by forces unknown, he paused to glance back over his shoulder. The bright, unmistakeable shape of Bede was on his knees in the dirt, Magnolia’s hand on his shoulder.
Hop stared, chest tight, before Leon’s voice calling him from beyond the trees summoned him back on his way.
***
Hop had lain awake for several hours after settling down for the night, unable to get the image of Bede standing by the graveside out of his head. For a long time he simply stared at the ceiling, aimlessly watching the dance of the colours that undulated at the corners of his vision as he pondered.
Why was it he was recalling this moment now? The memory and the strange swell of feeling that accompanied it had been perfectly preserved, as though his brain had had a sense it would have some significance later. Akin to spring-cleaning, when odds and ends were set aside without use for now but would definitely have some divine purpose in the future. There hadn’t come a time when the three-legged Wooloo plush from his childhood had come in handy in the past ten years or so, but he was positive he would find a use for it any day now.
Eventually, he gave up on the pretence he was attempting to sleep and slid out of bed to pad to the kitchen and fetch himself some water. He plucked a glass from where it was drying on the dish-rack to fill it and sat at his small kitchen table. He sank slowly down until his chin rested on the chipped laminate, fingers still clasped around the glass. The cool sensation of it in his hand kept him present, from spiralling off into the abyss of his confused thoughts.
He didn’t understand why he cared so much. He had known from the moment Bede stepped off the train at Wedgehurst – it seemed like a lifetime ago now - that they would fight. It was inevitable, there was far too much history there for him to ignore. He knew that now. Until Bede could find it in himself to regard Hop with anything but aloof disdain, nothing would change. Right? What good was there fretting over what had always been bound to occur?
Opal’s funeral had been the sole instance Hop could recall where Bede had displayed any glimmer of vulnerability. It had stirred Hop to see this figure in his life who had always been such a source of resentment and frustration near-crippled by grief, barely able to hold the carefully assembled pieces of himself together. In that moment Hop had been able to brush away the shards of their relationship scattered like glass on their respective paths and simply provide a comforting presence for a person in pain.
Bede had appreciated that. Like he had appreciated Hop working with him to carry out Opal’s unfinished research and…
This is bigger than you.
He slowly raised his head to rest his chin in his hand, eyes wide, so ashamed all of a sudden he felt sick.
He thought of Bede that day when Amelia had asked for his autograph, how wary and apologetic he had been in the aftermath. And earlier today, when they had been at Magnolia’s and Bede had been so complimentary of Hop’s work; Hop had always believed it had been some game, some nasty trick. When Hop least expected it, Bede would pull the rug from under his feet and grind his confidence into the mud once more, the same mud Bede had proclaimed Hop was dragging his brother’s reputation through.
At Opal’s funeral Hop had managed to cover the thorn that festered in his side and dangle an olive branch without fully realising the enormity of the gesture. Here, all these years later, Bede had been attempting to do the same, and each time Hop had waved him away as though he were a particularly annoying insect, stubbornly convinced it was only possible Bede was sending him up in order to take him down.
This is bigger than you.
Hop took a sip of water from the glass that was now slippery with condensation and stood to gaze out the window. The lights of Wedgehurst and Postwick were bright pinpricks in the darkness, guiding his eyes to where the shapes of trees slightly distorted the line of the horizon.
Maybe it was finally time to try and put the past behind him.
Hop knew what he had to do.
***
It was not yet fully light when Hop made his way out to Route 1. Morning was just beginning to bleed into the sky, chasing away the remnants of the fitful night he had had. Upon settling on his plan he had gone back to bed and managed a few hours of what could technically be deemed ‘sleep’; as he stepped out into the fresh morning air, however, his eyes remained heavy, scratchy with tiredness. He recalled Bede’s comment that morning he had arrived and chuckled to himself as he set out: why weren’t there any coffee outlets in such a sleepy town as this?
It didn’t take him long to arrive at his post. He leaned against the wall that encircled the field beside Gloria’s house; for a stranger the rough-hewn stone that dug into the skin might have been uncomfortable, but locals like himself were more than accustomed. He settled into place and swiped at his cheeks, damp from tears produced by the crisp breeze and constant yawning, before pulling his phone from his pocket to occupy himself. Hopefully, Hannah would not arise before Bede – he was aware he was in full view of the kitchen window and were she to stumble sleepily over to the sink to fill the kettle he would be seen. These stirrings of unease did not sit with well with him; he had passed many hours of his life in this very spot, foot tapping with impatience, waiting for Gloria to materialise at the threshold whilst Hannah waved cheerily from that same window. Now, however, he had no excuse to be here: none that could be easily explained, at least.
The more time that passed, the closer Hop came to giving in and bolting. He pretended to look at his phone whilst casting frequent, increasingly impatient glances at the sun climbing ever-higher in the sky. It was strange, how confidence in seemingly well-constructed ideas assembled under the cover of darkness dissipated immediately in the light of day. No wonder plotting usually happened at night. What if Bede refused to forgive him? What then?
Before Hop could give in to his paranoia, Gloria’s front door swung open. Instinctively he sucked in a breath and flattened his body against the wall, as though doing so would effectively hide him in any way. Bede appeared a second later, hair damp and skin still lightly flushed from the shower. He bade a jovial goodbye to Hannah and sprung down the uneven garden steps, neatly avoiding a large crack Hop knew was in the second-to-last one without looking down. Hop ignored the slight swell of indignation at this and raised a hand to wave. “Hey, Bede,” he greeted, as cheerfully as he could muster. Bede started as though he had come charging at him with a shotgun – Hop supposed he might as well have. Whilst his toothy grin was a trademark of his to most of his acquaintances, Bede would be far more familiar with the pouty jut of his lower lip.
“Morning.” Bede blinked at him warily. He had come to a halt at the gate and hung there now, reluctant to cross into uncharted territory. Hop kept a respectful distance a few feet away, arm still half-raised in awkward greeting. He hurriedly folded it behind his back and cleared his throat, suddenly unsure of himself. He hadn’t planned exactly what he was going to say – truthfully, part of him had been sure he wouldn’t make it this far. The duo eyed each other tensely. Unspoken questions flickered across Bede’s expression, but Hop knew he would not deign to speak first.
“Listen…” he looked away, rubbing the base of his neck. He was mildly surprised to feel it was damp with sweat. “I…” He met his gaze with difficulty. “I wanted to apologise. For what I said yesterday.”
He trailed off, uncertain. Bede allowed the silence to linger for a second or two. When it was clear Hop was not going to continue, he spoke. “Well?”
Hop stared, missing a beat. “Pardon?” he asked foolishly.
“Are you going to apologise?”
Hop drew himself up, reigned in whatever stupid comment he had been about to snarl in retaliation. “Right,” he managed instead. Proclaiming the intention to apologise didn’t count; it was funny how frequently people forgot that. He coughed, embarrassed. “I’m… sorry.” The words slipped out more easily than he had anticipated. The sincerity imbued within them lent him confidence, relaxed his posture and steadied his gaze.
Bede held his eyes and waited, expectant of an addendum, the terms and conditions around Hop’s sudden remorse. When none came he pressed his lips together and looked away, scuffed the dirt with his shoe. Hop resisted the urge to fill the silence: it was Bede’s turn, now.
“Thank you, Hop,” he murmured at last. Hop badly wanted to slide a finger under his chin, raise his face to his so he could examine his expression. “I know… that can’t have been easy.” Finally, finally, as though receptive of Hop’s discomfort, he lifted his eyes and in a smooth, singular motion crossed the space between them to hold out his hand. “I meant what I said yesterday – we don’t have to be friends. You don’t have to like me. But I’m glad we can at least be civil.” He didn’t add starting from now but the words hung in the air regardless, akin to a sneeze stifled in the fold of an elbow.
“Um… yeah.” Hop grasped his hand and shook it firmly, wanting a suitable sign-off for his apology. Bede’s grip was clammy, palm damp like his own. Was it possible Bede was as nervous as he was? “About that.” His lips curled into a shaky smile, a peace offering. “I… did a lot of thinking last night. And I realised… you were right in what you said yesterday. About me being unable to let go of the past.” He released Bede’s hand to run it sheepishly through his hair. “I haven’t been fair to you, now or… ever, really. We were kids before, and things were so different for both of us. I guess… maybe I’m not as over it as I thought I was.” His smile became rueful. “But that’s my problem. I think… I mean, we could try to be friends, right?”
Bede blinked, wrongfooted. He opened his mouth, lips forming the shape of a word, before he shut it again and once more directed his gaze to his shoes. “Well… I…” he peered up at Hop through his hair, uncharacteristically… bashful, almost. “Thank you… thank you for saying that.” His voice sounded a slight hoarse all of a sudden, as though attempting to speak through a cough. “I… would like that very much.”
Hop’s lips unfurled into his signature sunny grin and for the second time that morning (some sort of record, surely) he reached out and seized Bede’s hand again. “Glad to hear it!” he chirped. “Here’s to us being adults.” Bede nodded slowly, eyes wide with bewilderment at the sudden switch in disposition. Had Gloria been there, she would have wryly remarked he would get used to it.
“Anyway,” Hop continued, conversational, as though they had merely been discussing the weather all this time. “As I mentioned, I was doing a lot of thinking last night. And I have to confess there’s something I’ve been… not hiding, exactly, but… well not sharing with you that could possibly have some answers regarding our project.” He half-turned to point in the direction of the Weald. “And I thought now would be a good time to show you. As some sort of gesture, I suppose?” he scratched his cheek. “Something like that. Whatever you want to call it, I think it’s important.” He gestured for Bede to follow. “This way?”
Bede’s eyes darted from Hop, to the treeline, then back again. “Uh…” his mind was still awhirl with all that had just transpired. “I… guess?” the words trailed off in a question. Of course he wanted badly to patch things up with Hop, but there were plenty of cautionary tales out there around wandering into the woods with… with what? What were they now? He had been into the Weald many times with the budding professor at this point, but… this was different. Somehow, he was aware that if he were to step into the shadow of the trees with him now, everything would change; was it not the most human reaction in the world to cling to what you knew?
Hop could read clearly the hesitancy in his eyes. How alien it was, to be on the other side of the tracks – did Bede think he had some awful trick up his sleeve? His own gaze softened, and he smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. “It’s good,” he murmured. “I swear.”
Irritation clouded Bede’s face for an instant, a shadow passing briefly over the sun. It was the most familiar expression Hop had seen adorn his features thus far. “I’m sure it is,” he replied curtly. “I just…” he shook his head. “Nothing. Lead the way.”
***
It was considerably colder in the Weald. Light had difficulty penetrating the thick canopy overhead at the best of times, but at this tender hour the milky morning rays could be felt as keenly as the nip of a Cutiefly on the rump of a Copperjah. The undergrowth surrounding them was a-bustle with activity with the onset of dawn. Rookiedee could be heard stirring to wakefulness in song, their high, warbling notes companionable with the crunch of their footsteps across the forest floor, and occasionally a streak of grey lightning in the form of a Skwovet would cross their path, dashing for the safety of the overhanging branches. Hop had pulled slightly ahead, jittery with excited energy. Bede struggled to keep up with his darting sure-footedness, lacking in the instinct Hop had for the Weald. The trees seemed to part voluntarily for Hop, ushering him by with a bow and a nod before crowding forth to shove Bede back, a last-ditch attempt to obscure whatever it was Hop had been hiding from him. Bede would not be deterred.
Eventually Hop realised he could no longer hear the crash of Bede’s steps behind him and spun in place to animatedly assure him they were almost there (can you see the glow up ahead?) only to blink at the emptiness behind him. He drew to a halt, near-vibrating with impatience, just shy of a cartoonish hop from foot to foot. Bede stumbled up beside him a few seconds later. He paused to pick some leaves from his perfect hair, breath coming slightly laboured. Hop opened his mouth to speak, a playful quip on his lips, only to realise Bede was shivering slightly. Without thinking, Hop fumbled in his pocket to unravel his scarf that was bundled there and paused to hand it over.
“Here,” he murmured. His voice had become soft; conspiratorial, almost. They were deep into the Weald, now – no longer alone. The trees appeared to have drawn closer, the tremor of their leaves in the weak breeze reminiscent of whispered conversation.
Bede’s eyes fluttered with surprise, and Hop caught himself observing in that instant how thick his eyelashes were. Like bleached clumps of desert grass surrounding an oasis. He was in the middle of contemplating how stupid that thought was when Bede grasped the proffered scarf.
“Thanks,” he replied, avoiding Hop’s gaze and sweeping forward, so Hop didn’t have time to properly assess if that really was a faint colour on his cheeks.
Hop shook his head and followed, eager to leave the strangeness of whatever that moment had been behind them. They had arrived at the arch of trees that lined the path to the altar and Hop felt a familiar flush of anticipation. He had been here countless times before, of course, but it was never any less special. They burst through the treeline to stumble over crumbling stone, and Hop immediately felt the peace of the atmosphere settle over him, akin to relaxing into bed after a long day. When he looked over at Bede he was blinking rapidly, eyes struggling to adjust without the shroud of fog obscuring his vision. Hop waited, a benign smile tracing his features as he met Bede’s gaze with an expectant look.  
“Well.” He gestured toward the altar. “Here we are.”
Bede had frozen, hands only partially lowered from where he had been rubbing his eyes. Hop surpassed a chuckle; the pose gave him the look of a child who had been distracted mid-cry by a toy waved in his face.
“What is this place?” Bede whispered, awestruck.
“Follow me,” Hop replied. Were it Gloria, he would have reached out and grabbed his wrist. But it wasn’t. Instead, he twitched his head in the direction of the altar and led him to stand in the shadow of the crumbling stonework. Bede lingered warily by his side, body taut with the breath he was holding. Hop grinned at him encouragingly and knelt down to run a careful finger along the blade of the Rusted Sword.
“This is the birthplace of Zacian and Zamazenta.” Hop turned to meet his gaze over his shoulder. “This is where they lay for thousands of years, protecting the Weald. And this is where myself and Gloria came to rouse them when…”
“The Darkest Day,” Bede murmured, crossing his arms over his chest. “I remember.”
Hop nodded and rose to his feet, hand going to caress the cool metal of the Pokéball at his belt. “We had met them, once before,” he continued. “The day our journeys began… we chased a runaway Wooloo into here and got lost in the fog. It was worse than it is at the moment, if you can believe it.” He chuckled. “They chased us away, then. Had this place under their protection. But… they chose us when the time came. They came to our aid when we called for them, and later joined us as our partners.” He unlatched the Pokéball and smiled lovingly at it as he rolled it in the palm of his hand. “Zacian followed me. A Fairy-type.” He grinned at the dawning realisation in Bede’s eyes. “I thought you might like to meet them.”
Bede’s opened his mouth, but before he could reply Hop had tossed Zacian’s Pokéball to the ground. Simultaneously, they raised a hand to shield their faces as Zacian burst forth in a beam of light. Hop stepped forward to take his partner’s face in his hands, and laughed as Zacian snuffled at him affectionately. When he turned to look at Bede he was still standing, slack-jawed and stunned into silence at the casual manner in which Hop greeted this being whom until relatively recently had been spoken of only in legend.
“Zacian,” Hop moved aside to nod in Bede’s direction. “This is Bede, the Fairy Type leader here in Galar. He’d be honoured to meet you.”
Zacian flicked their ears in acknowledgement and turned to survey Bede, inquisitive. Bede merely stood for a long moment, fingers pressed to his throat. He was so still Hop could observe rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
Hop cleared his throat, about to ask Bede if he was alright, before Bede broke out of his daze to stumble forward and kneel before Zacian, forehead lowered so it almost touched the earth. Hop watched with bated breath as Zacian tilted their head to observe him for a heartbeat, yellow eyes bright with intensity, before gently pressing their nose to the back of Bede’s head.
Bede was trembling when he raised himself up to meet Zacian’s gaze. They stared at one another for a long moment, deep in unspoken conversation, until Zacian lowered itself to Bede’s level in invitation. A grin unfurled over Hop’s face like a ray of sunshine through cloud as Bede placed a shaky hand atop Zacian’s head and Zacian rumbled quietly with approval when Bede stroked behind his ears. Bede appeared overcome with a humility so uncharacteristic to Hop he was almost unrecognisable; in the buttery sunlight that seemed to constantly bathe the grotto his hair and the alabaster planes of his face were alight, features slack with awe. There were only a handful of fleeting moments Hop could recall where he had seen Bede with his guard totally down: the funeral, the lab on the first day… now. Every time it seemed to stopper his breath – be it with surprise or something else, he didn’t know. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away.
After an eternity Bede stepped away. He stumbled, still a tad shaky on his feet, and Hop snapped from his trance to put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, a hesitant smile on his lips. Bede regained his balance and moved away, suddenly tense.  
“Thanks,” he murmured, leaning forward to brush the dust from his trouser-legs. He used the moment to gather himself, to attempt to arrange the swirl of emotion welling inside him into something resembling words. “Hop…” he swallowed. “Hop… I can’t… I don’t know how to thank you.”
Hop grinned. “No need. I thought it was about time Zacian play a part in our studies.” At the mention of his name Zacian wandered over to Hop to nose the back of his neck, and Hop let out a short bark of surprised laughter as he reached up to scratch them under the chin. “I… Zacian and this place mean a lot to myself and Gloria, obviously. I didn’t want you to know about it all because… well, you know.” His smile became sheepish. “And that was foolish, I know that now. Zacian, being Fairy-type, might have something to do with our research, and I was excluding you from that out of pettiness. Bringing you here will hopefully be a step in the right direction for the project and a gesture of goodwill moving forward, right?”
Bede nodded. “It’s an honour,” he murmured. He shook his head, still reeling. “Opal, as you know, had come here before, to study Fairy types and uncover the secrets of the Weald. I’m glad she was still alive when yourself and Gloria brought Zacian and Zamazenta back. Even if she never got to the bottom of the secrets of the Weald… knowing Zacian had returned was enough.” His voice had become rough with emotion, and Hop pretended not to notice when he raised an arm to swipe over his eyes.
“I’m glad,” Hop replied gently. “And I’m glad we did this.” It was time to put the past behind them.
Bede nodded, gaze soft. “Me too.”
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stoopsbookstore · 4 years
Text
Physically Wounded and Mentally Drained
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"Can you help?"
Johnny stood outside the window of the closest person he knew lived by, the spoiled good-two-shoes, Y/N. His face was bloodied and his shirt had been torn open.
"Why should I?"
Y/N stood at the window, her arms crossed, the TV illuminating her room. The sounnds of sirens startling Johnny until he noticed the movie Y/N had been watching is now on a chase scene.
Johnny flashed Y/N the blood spots in his shirt, his body ready to keel over on her balcony.
"Please, can you just let me in? I did nothing wrong, but I know it's going to be twis-" Johnny's ramblings were cut off by the unlatching of the window, a rush of cool air from the AC hitting him in the face as thunder starts in the distance.
"Hurry up. I'll grab the first aid kit," Y/N pulled on the tall boy's shirt, shutting the window as soon as Johnny got his body inside, "it looks bad, it may be a minute."
"It feels bad," Johnny joked, tapping his chest, the tension in his body still high.
Plopping on the couch, Johnny looked at Y/N's room. A four-poster queen-sized bed with a cream colored canopy. Her desk was neatly organized with her statistics textbook open, signifying that she had been studying before his interruption. Reaching over, he grabbed the textbook.
"That's right," Johnny flipped through a few pages, the highlighted text a slight blur to him, "Douglas's exam is Monday."
"I forgot you're in the same class as me," Y/N took the damp rag in her hand, wiping the dirt off of Johnny's face, taking the textbook from him and throwing it on her bed, "and I'm going to ignore how you know where I live."
"Sorry, I know it's creepy to know where your mortal enemy lives, you can blame that prick, Hendery."
Johnny tried to break the tension, taking his leather jacket and placing it on the window ledge next to the couch. Y/N kept wiping the dirt and blood off where she could find, a need to help someone as awful as Johnny coming over her.
"Can you not get blood on the couch please? My parents would kill me," Y/N gave a towel to Johnny, the tall boy throwing it over his shoulders.
Mortal enemies? Awful?
"We're not mortal enemies," Y/N took some antiseptic out of the box of medicine, smearing it on a gash on Johnny's knuckles, "I just find you extremely annoying and vulgar. You and your friends just run amok with no sense of conseq-"
"And you and your friends act like a bunch of prudes, acting like you're better than everyone else because you come from money," Johnny winces when Y/N wiped the clean wound, a sharp inhale as she pulled a sharp piece of gravel from his flesh.
"Did you just forget who's helping you from whatever the fuck happened to you?"
Y/N continued to clean the injuries Johnny had acquired, the silence deafening. Biting his lip, he continued to look around her room. A decently sized TV sat on a 5-drawer dresser, the walls looked like they were painted a similar color to her bed. It looked like a normal room, Johnny can't figure out why that surprises him so much.
"I have to grab some gauze, I'll be back," Y/N kept her head down, walking to the bathroom.
Johnny took the chance to explore, although his body felt like collapsing. Looking in a mirror, he saw that the blood, dirt and gravel had vanished from his skin, but his shirt was still covered.
Y/N did a good job of cleaning me up.
He noticed a picture frame next to her bed. Walking over to it, he picked it up for a closer inspection. His eyes scanned the photo, it had to be a few years old as it looks like it was taken on the last day of their high school career. Y/N's uniform jacket was off, another girl had taken it to the side and Taeyong andbJaehy-
Taeyong? Jaehyun?
"I know I keep saying this, but plesse don't get blood on anything," Y/N took the photo from Johnny, placing it back on her nightstand, "I grabbed some of my dad's clothes you can change into."
"How do you know Taeyong and Jaehyun?" Johnny questioned.
"The normal response to someone giving you clothes is thank you," Y/N took Johnny's hand, wrapping up his knuckles in gauze and taping it closed.
"How do you know them?" Johnny stared at Y/N, towering over her like he did everyone else.
"How do you know Hendery?"
"I'm trying to be nice here. Understand you," Johnny threw his hands up in the air, hitting his thigh and wincing.
"Take your shirt off so I can throw these in the wash," Y/N grabbed the towel from the couch, holding her hand and doing her best to dodge the question.
"Are you ashamed of them?" Johnny took his shirt off, what looked like a shoe print on his skin and a gash on his abs.
Abs?
"N-no," Y/N stammered, taking the shirt from Johnny, wrapping it up in the towel and grabbing the first-aid kit, "I just haven't talked to them in a while."
"I know, they hang around me," Johnny chuckled, a slight smile appearing on Y/N's face.
"I should go put these in the washer," Y/N walked to her door, Johnny following behind her, "what are you doing?"
"I've never been in a place like this, when will I get another chance?" Johnny reached for the doorknob, Y/N reaching for his wrist, "I won't get blood on anything."
"I hope so. The blood should be congealed by now," Y/N quietly opened the door, checking down the hallway like a little kid on Christmas night looking for Santa, "ok, let's go."
Y/N tiptoed down the hallway, every step carefully planned while Johnny basically stomped, his footsteps on the shiny wood vibrating throughout the dark corridor.
"Can you be quieter please?" Y/N quietly yelled at the tall boy, "I don't want to get in trou-"
"Y/N, is that you?" Y/N pushed Johnny into a closet, a grown man standing at the landing of the stairs, "what are you doing?"
"I started my period and accidentally bled on my blankets," Y/N kept her body on the closet door, the handle jiggling, "I was going to throw them in the washer."
"Alright," footsteps could be heard retreating, "get to bed soon though, you have a test and an exam tomorrow. Love you."
"Love you, too."
Y/N cautiously opened the door, Johnny pretended to struggle for air as he walked out. Seeing Y/N's face, Johnny put his head down.
Getting to the laundry room, Y/N drenched the shirt in stain remover, an awkward silence falling over to the two. After Y/N put the shirt in the washer, with the few towels and rags she had used, she tended to the gash on Johnny's chest.
"Arms up."
"I was jumped by those SVT guys," Johnny confessed while Y/N placed a patch and wrapped the large gauze around his chest, "3 of them. I'm surprised it wasn't more. That Mingyu dude has a good kick and Church dude has a punch like I've never seen."
Y/N stayed quiet.
"Are you okay?"
"You're the one wounded, I don't think you should be asking me that," Y/N taped the gauze, putting back the first-aid kid back together.
"I'm sorry for what I said earl-"
"Water under the bri-"
"Y/N, what's goin-"
"I'm fine, I promi-"
"Clearly no-" Johnny's voice grew louder in the small room.
"Will you please keep it down?"
"Will you tell me what's wrong? You've been quiet ever since your dad almost caught us," Y/N kept her mouth shut, cleaning up around the room to avoid the question, "Look. I'm trying to be nice here. Will you please tell what's going on?"
"You wouldn't understand, Mr. I do what I want. I had to stop being friends with Jaehyun and Taeyong because they were quote-unquote bad influences," Y/N finally snapped, throwing a shoe at Johnny, narrowly missing the newly dressed wound, "Mr. I get to do what I please and not have to worry about grades or jobs or maintaining relationships where your parents control every aspect of your life."
Johnny tried to talk, but the floodgates had opened, Y/N let everything out, her eyes watering with every syllable.
"You get to go and be free when I have to be like the perfect child for my parents. I can't even go to any functions on campus like the Spring Fling or the Fall Festival because my parents probably signed me up to watch a booth or volunteer at the snack tables. Do you realize how hard it is to be my age, in classes for a degree, and not have a job because my parents don't want me to get one because I'll just marry my dad's friend's son. I don't even like Minho like that and I'm excepted to just fall in love with someo-"
"Breathe. Ok, please just breathe," Johnny noticed Y/N had started shaking, her body trembling, "are you okay if I hug you?"
Y/N nodded. Johnny's long arms tugged her closer, her sobs muffled by his chest.
"Let's get you back to your room."
"But your shirt."
"I'll pick it up later."
Walking back to her room, Johnny helped Y/N to her couch, her head landing on his shoulder. The TV had begun playing infomercials, Johnny's hand rubbing Y/N's arm in an effort to calm her down.
"I know it's hard, but you'll be okay. I went through the same stuff when I was younger. Finally, Doyoung kicked me in the ass and told me to move in with him. I've been on my own since I was 16. My parents were pissed."
Tilting her chin up, Johnny reassured Y/N with a simple smile.
"You know, I've learned more about you in the hour or so you've been bandaging me up than I have in the years we've known each other."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No, I think it gives me a new understanding about you. Hopefully it's the same vice versa."
"Yeah, you're physically wounded and I'm emotionally drained."
The pair laughed, rain tapping on the window.
"I guess I'm stuck here now."
"The couch folds ou-"
"I was joking. Your parents wouldn't be too happy if they discovered a rebel like me in the princess's room."
"They're out of the house by 7am and they don't check on me, just a call around 8 to make sure I'm up," Y/N unwrapped Johnny's arm from her shoulder, wobbly standing up to grab a blanket from her closet, "worse comes to worse, just run in the closet, it's big enough to hide in."
"Thanks, princess."
"Will you be okay?" Y/N flipped through the channels as Johnny got comfortable on the couch, his jacket acting as a pillow.
"Will you?"
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trashynoona · 4 years
Text
Clothes.
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Imagine opening your wardrobe, for that spring cleaning you ought to have done ages ago. As you sort through your hundredth cute outfit into the ‘keep’, ‘donate’ and ‘throw’ pile, you notice a box of clothes that you haven’t seen in awhile.
The old high school tshirt you had borrowed the first time you slept over at his place. The dress shirt you picked out for a formal event. The jumper you casually claimed ownership of. The flannel that you gladly accepted when he was clearing his wardrobe. These are his clothes. No, these WERE his clothes. You sigh. These clothes were no longer just clothes, they’re memory agents; each item carrying a very vivid memory you shared with him. They used to be special, but not anymore. In fact, they have been packed away such a long time ago that you had absolutely forgotten about their existence.
Hold on, why do you still have them if you had broken up ages ago? Ah right, Kim, your best friend, had forced me to do a wardrobe clean up after you hung around your room moving around for an unhealthy extended amount of time. You could not bear to part with all his belongings, so you ended up making a deal with Kim; to throw everything, except his clothes. You smile at that memory. It was a sight to remember, ‘no no I need this, please!’ You begged Kim while snot carelessly dripped onto the tip of your lip. Kim carelessly threw every thing that he had left at your place into a black trash bag. She would never understand, she did not have access to the memory bubbles these item/ held.
You picked up the old tshirt from the box. It smelled staled, as it should be.
‘Would you... perhaps... like to stay over tonight?’ Taehyung avoided your eyes as he shyly traced squiggly lines on your palm.
It was the first week since you guys have started dating. You became acquainted with Taehyung after you guys bonded over your love for melted ice cream when you offered to share your table with him in your university’s cafeteria. It was the first time Taehyung had invited you over to his place since you became official.
‘I’d love to. But... I have nothing to wear...’ you timidly replied.
‘Oh oh don’t worry! You can wear my high school tshirt! It’s super worn in and super comfy! I promise you’d like it!!!’ Taehyung was rambling as he jumped out of the sofa and into his bedroom.
‘Here!’ He showed you his washed out tshirt with a triumphant glee.
You guys took turns to wash up in the bathroom. You fumbled around with Taehyung’s tshirt. The fabric was made out of white cotton and the fact that it has been so worn it makes it very translucent. You were not used to wearing a bra to sleep, but you did not wanted to appear to brazen. But what’s the point of putting on a bra if it’s going to come off anyway? You made your decision and headed out of the bathroom.
Tae was fidgeting at the edge of his bed when your eyes met. Placing his hand on the bed for support, Tae struggled to place his eyes.
‘Is this... too much?’ You asked.
‘NO. No. Not at all.’ Tae responded as he shot out of bed.
‘You look beautifuller than I ever will in this tshirt.’ He muttered as he closed the gap between you.
That was the first night you had spent with your new boyfriend, Tae. Subsequently, it became a no brained for you to pick up the washed out high school tshirt whenever you stay over at his place. It always had an effect on Tae, it turns him into a very horny, very helpless puppy.
It was your faculty’s mid year formal and you’ve decided to attend as a couple. The only problem was that Tae was more of a ‘street fashion kinda guy’ as he described himself. His only white dress shirt has turned yellow and no way were you going to allow him to wear that garbage out.
You loved Tae, except when it came to shopping. Your boyfriend was the fussiest shopper ever. Too narrow, too pale, too baggy. In your eyes, it seemed like Tae was nitpicking every outfit he had tried on. By the 15th outfit, you lost it.
‘Kim Taehyung. Are you even taking this seriously?! Just tell me if you’d rather wear your yellow wash cloth. I’ve had enough!’ You half yelled as Tae came out of the dressing room in a pale lilac shirt, coupled with a deep purple suit.
‘Babe, I just want to look good for you.’ Tae pouted. Your boyfriend had that effect on you. For some reason, he looked like a five-year-old child who have just broken his favourite toy whenever he was down. How could you stay mad at him?
‘Sweetie, you look good in everything. In fact, I don’t even think I’d mind that much if you went in that washcloth of yours as long as you’re with me!’ You comforted the doe-eyed man.
‘Aw babe. I know you’d love me a little less if I had turned up in that washcloth. I actually really like this set, shall we?’ The boxy grin was back, as you marvel at your blessing for having Tae as your boyfriend.
In the end, you decided to pay for the lilac dress shirt to commemorate what you decided was your first formal event together. Your cheeky boyfriend on the other hand, announced to the world that it was a cover up to commemorate the first time you got mad at him.
In time to come, you’d realise Tae was setting you off more than you expected. You loved him, but you could not understand how could a grown man be so silly and happy-go-lucky all the time.
This leads you to the jumper. It was your first winter together and it was about 6 months into your relationship. You had just stormed off from your boyfriend’s place for a reason you can no longer recall.
Just as Tae thought you might be gone for good, he heard a little knock on the door, to the rhythm you have both came up with.
‘Babe?’ Tae muttered as he rushed to the door.
‘There’s a snow storm, I can’t leave. But I’m still mad at you!’ You push Tae aside as you invite yourself into the warm room.
Some how, Tae managed to appease you and you guys had the best make up sex that night. You had Tae’s jumper on as he licked your pussy just the way you liked it.
‘Do the Super Sonic babe’ you moaned as you grabbed a bunch of your boyfriend’s hair.
‘At your command mam.’ Tae muttered as he worked his way skilfully around your clit.
‘Super Sonic’ was a silly name Tae had invented for the technique that he knew would drive you crazy. As the name suggests, he had a mad way of moving his tongue at a high speed you could not imagine yourself. Perhaps it was the fact that he was highly skilled with the saxophone that trained his mouth muscle; but this boy can go on forever. The finale to ‘Super Sonic’ is a mind blowing orgasm that ends with you squirting all over.
‘I love you, so much , babe.’ Tae confessed for the first time as your wetness coated his face.
‘I love you too Tae.’ You said as you wiped the mixture of bodily fluid off your boyfriend‘s face.
You sigh as you picked up the last item in the box. The flannel shirt. It was the shirt that contained the most memories. It was Tae’s favourite shirt, so, it was naturally yours too.
Taehyung had worn the flannel on the day you first met and chatted over an hour. You had a tutorial to attend but you did not have the heart to interrupt the handsome stranger who was going on and on passionately about his love for melted vanilla ice cream.
The truth was, you were so busy chatting with Kim that you had forgotten to eat your ice cream. You never had a particular liking for melted ice cream but you went with it anyway, just because.
Tae wore the same flannel on your first date. The boy had planned to bring you to the carnival. Except, in typical taehyung fashion, he had forgotten to check for the weather forecast. You were actually glad that it rained, for you have acrophobia. You literally have to pop medically prescribed sleeping pills whenever you had to fly. But you went with it anyway, just because.
Tae turned up in the same flannel shirt the first time he met your family. You brought him around your childhood home for a tour when he came across a photo of you and a familiar stranger as children.
‘Babe you’ve never told me you have a brother?’ Tae asked.
‘Oh.. erm, he lives faraway and doesn’t come back often anymore.’ You answered as you hurriedly pushed Tae onwards. The truth is, your big brother had killed himself several years ago. It had taken away a part of your family, but you decided it was not time to tell your boyfriend the truth, just because.
Coincidentally, Tae was also wearing the same flannel shirt the day you guys decided to split for good. It was true that you could not stand how childish and flighty Tae could be. But Tae was the one who insisted on the break up.
‘It’s like I can never truly get to you. Do you even trust me?’ Was one of the last things you could remember Tae saying to you.
It was true, to an extent. It’s not that you could not trust Tae, but rather, you simply could not trust yourself. After the death of your dear brother, you have feared opening up to new people. You were terrified that they too, would leave.
You wish you had fought for Tae to stay. But you could not. The only thing you did was muster the courage to ask for that flannel shirt. The flannel that started it all and ended it all.
You decided to place all of taehyung’s clothes into the ‘throw’ pile, for it was just too painful to imagine somebody else wearing his clothes; unaware of the stories that came with it.
It has been over a year since Taehyung and you had broken up. You did not keep in contact since and decided perhaps it was time to casually check out his profile. Tae was looking very handsome and cheeky as usual. He was wearing a new flannel shirt with the Gucci shoulder bag that you have bought for him for your first and only one year anniversary. You smile to yourself and wondered if Tae still think of you whenever he used the bag, or perhaps, it is simply a bag to him now, a meaningless, overpriced bag. You will never know.
Just then, a notification came in and blocked your view of your ex boyfriend.
‘Heyyyy, just wanted to confirmed if we’re still on for drinks tonight?’ - Jin.
Yes, you have moved on. Memories of taehyung no longer leave you in tears and despair. You were regretful that you never found the courage to open up to taehyung but you figured, these things are not meant to be forced. Perhaps you had never found that courage because Tae was never the one to be. At one point, both Tae and you were probably convinced that you were meant to be. Unfortunately, time has proven otherwise. You are open to going on dates now. You are not sure if you will ever find the strength to break down all your walls, however, in the meantime, no harm trying you suppose.
Ps. It took forever to find Tae in a flannel, it’s almost like flannel is his fashion crux or something. Rip.
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youreverycolor · 4 years
Text
An Unlikely Love: Fight For It, Pt. 2 (Rafael Barba x Anna Stein)
AN: Prompt #43 from 200 Prompts from @drink-it-write-it (“Do you believe in soulmates?” – “No.” – “Oh, well, that’s a shame, because I’m it. I’m your soulmate.”)
The conclusion of Fight For It. I hope you guys enjoy. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. :)
Special thanks to @madpanda75, @thatesqcrush, and @misssirenlove for love, support, idea-bouncing, and generally being wonderful women.
Tagging: @danahart1 @nikkijmorgan @ele-esposito @dianilaws @sunnyfortomorrow @mommakat32 @lucifersadvisor @gibbs274 @oliviamariathegirl @evee87 @tropes-and-tales @garturbo @delia26 @neely1177 @jennisdirtyimagines @lostintech0011001 @letty-o @lucifersadvisor @sunnyfortomorrow @literallyprentissstwin @gibbs274 @dianilaws
Song: "Ours” by Taylor Swift
~*~*~*~
There was nearly a decade between Amanda Rollins and Anna Stein, but they could easily be mistaken for sisters, only a year or two apart. Of all the squad members, Anna was closest with Olivia, and so she might have asked if the lieutenant could use some time away from work, but she thought better of it. Olivia was Rafael’s best friend, after all, and he would probably want to talk to her over the course of the week. However, since the party he had thrown to celebrate Anna’s first semester grades, Amanda and Anna had also formed a fast friendship. Amanda was a lot of fun and up for anything without needing an explanation, as Liv might have asked for. As it turned out, she also had a copious amount of vacation time saved up. So, she bribed Carisi into taking Jesse for the week—with the use of her sitter for the daytime—and told Olivia a slight fib about a “family emergency back home.” By Tuesday night, she and Anna were on a plane headed to Tennessee.
Originally, Anna had suggested Vegas, but Amanda—a recovering gambling addict—quickly countered with Nashville. Anna had never been there, but Amanda said she would love it: all the fun of Vegas bars without the price tag, and the added bonus of hot cowboys. Amanda knew Nashville like the back of her hand; she had graduated from Middle Tennessee State University. The college was only about thirty miles from downtown Nashville, and Amanda and her friends frequently went into the city on weekends. So she knew exactly where to go and what to do, and Anna was more than happy to let her lead the way.
Although in some ways, Amanda had become a hardened New Yorker, she quickly reverted to her roots after only a day in Tennessee. She took Anna along for the ride, converting the native Californian to a Southern belle. During the days, they visited the Parthenon, Music Row, and the Country Music Hall of Fame. They took walks along the riverfront and even went to the Grand Ole Opry. Amanda had done most of these things already, but she was content to do them again with her friend, who clearly needed the distraction.
At night, they teased their blonde hair (Amanda joked that “the higher the hair, the closer to God”) and wore obscenely short denim skirts and cowboy boots while drinking on Honky Tonk Row. At some point, they found themselves in a karaoke bar, and Anna shocked the hell out of Amanda by singing the mysterious, little-known third verse of Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places.” They talked about their families and how much they missed them; Amanda’s mother and sister had moved back to Atlanta and she rarely got to see them, while all of Anna’s family still lived in Los Angeles, where she also had lived until four years ago. But all the while, Anna did not bring up Rafael once, and Amanda didn’t ask about him.
But by dinner on Monday, Amanda’s curiosity got the better of her. They were sitting at a bar nursing vodka tonics and eating the best burgers Anna had ever had, when Amanda asked, “So, since we’re scheduled to fly out tomorrow morning, you gonna tell me why we came?”
“Sorry?”
“Well, as much fun as this trip has been—”
“So much fun!” Anna said. “It’s honestly been the best girls’ trip I’ve ever taken.”
Amanda smiled. “I’m glad you had fun, but I have to ask…”
Anna set her burger down in favor of a sip of her drink. “I don’t want to make it weird for you when you have to deal with him at work,” she said. “It really wasn’t that big of a deal anyway.”
“Okay, first off,” Amanda began, “unless you’re telling me about whatever weird kinks Barba has in the sack, nothing you could say would make me feel weird around him. And second, it must have been a pretty big deal for you to want to get out of the damn state for a week.”
“Maybe I just wanted to do something fun over spring break with a friend,” Anna replied, avoiding eye contact.
Amanda raised an eyebrow. “You know I’m a detective, right?”
Anna laughed. “You and, like, half my other friends.” She put her face in her hands and then turned on her bar stool toward Amanda and told her the whole story, starting with Rafael’s Spanish-laced tirade when he arrived home to the moment he stormed back out. Amanda listened quietly the entire time, the same as she did when investigating a case. Her face betrayed nothing—no doubt a skill she learned in her gambling days.
When Anna finally finished, Amanda took a deep breath. “You know, I can’t say any of this surprises me.”
Anna raised her eyebrows. “What?”
Amanda downed the last of her vodka. “Well, let me start by saying that you did the right thing getting out of there. A lot of women would’ve hung around waiting for him to get home. Took a lot of guts to do what you did.”
“What, run away?”
“You planning to go back?”
“Of course,” Anna said, a little taken aback.
“Then you didn’t run away. You decided that for the good of your relationship, you needed to take some time for yourself. No shame in that.”
Anna took a moment to process this. “It really was a stupid fight,” she finally said.
“Yeah,” Amanda agreed. “But, you know, all couples fight. At least you’re fighting about stupid things than about, I don’t know, whatever the hell my old partner, Nick, and his wife used to fight about.”
“I guess,” Anna said.
Amanda put her hand on top of Anna’s. “Anna, look at me.” Anna looked up, pushing a wisp of her hair away from her eyes. “You’ve gotta understand, Barba has been alone for a long time. And take it from me, when you’re alone that long, you get used to thinking you’re right all the time because there’s no one telling you otherwise.”
“I get that, but maybe we’re just too different. Maybe he’s been alone too long. Maybe I don’t take things seriously enough. Maybe it’s just too—”  
Amanda held up her hands. “Look, I get it. He’s a stubborn pain in the ass. Hell, he’s hard to work with, so I can’t imagine living with him. You’ve got a pretty big age gap, and you’re both really busy with work and school. So I would completely understand if you decided you weren’t right for each other.” Then she softened her voice. “But I told you once before, I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. And when I asked if you were planning to go back, you looked at me like I was nuts for even asking that question. That says something to me.”
Suddenly, the bartender came over with two shots of whiskey. “From the gentlemen down that way,” he said, gesturing to two young, extremely handsome men sitting at the end of the bar.
Anna and Amanda looked at the men, then at each other. “You wanna go talk to ‘em?” Amanda asked, a sly grin on her face.
Anna hesitated for a second, looked at the men again, and then took out her phone. “Give me a second.” A minute later, she put it away and grabbed one of the shot glasses. “Okay. Ready.”
They clinked their glasses, tapped them on the bar, and downed the shots. “Sisters, right?” Amanda asked, referring to their cover story.
Anna hopped off her barstool and the two of them linked arms. “Sisters.”
***
Rafael was miserable.
Anna had only texted him twice a day since she’d landed in Nashville the previous Tuesday: once in the morning, and once at night. It was largely the same message every time: good morning or goodnight, and that she hoped he had a good day. He appreciated that, despite her anger, she at least wanted him to know that she was safe. And he wanted to give her the space she had clearly demanded, so he didn’t message more than that. He wasn’t a jealous man who needed to know what his girlfriend was doing every minute of the day, after all. Anna had gone on a handful of trips with her friends over the course of their relationship. That wasn’t what bothered him. What bothered him was that this time, she did it to get away from him rather than to get away with other people. That made all the difference. He trusted Anna implicitly. But every night, after he’d finally dragged himself home to bed, his brain went to a dark place where she met some stranger in Nashville, some ridiculous cowboy, who made her realize that he wasn’t worth the effort.
And because of what? A damn pen.
The day after she left, he threw them all out.
He felt like a bachelor again, but this time it wasn’t self-imposed. Nevertheless, he had reverted to his bachelor ways, working as much as he could until the wee hours of the morning. On Thursday and Friday mornings, Carmen had found him asleep on his office couch in the same clothes he’d worn the previous day. He worked right through the weekend, up until Sunday night. The good news was that he actually seemed to have caught up on a good deal of his backlogged work. The bad news was that he couldn’t even enjoy the spoils because he had no one to enjoy them with.
He had lunch with Olivia a couple of times and didn’t mention what was going on. She noticed something was off, but he deflected, saying he just hadn’t slept well that week. It wasn’t a lie.
Since he had gotten caught up with work that week, he decided to take Monday off. He cleaned out his closet, donating a bunch of clothes he hadn’t worn in a year. Anna had said more than once that she wanted to get a rain shower head, so he went out and bought one and installed it. Carisi came over with Jessie and a pizza that evening. Rafael had never been comfortable around children, but he had to admit that watching Carisi play with Jesse made him want to participate. So he and the detective and Amanda’s daughter colored and ate pizza—and for a minute, he forgot about being alone. Then, he got the nightly text from Anna, and was reminded all over again that she wasn’t going to be next to him in bed.
By Tuesday, he was climbing the walls. Work was the only thing he knew would take his mind off of the long wait until she arrived back home, so he threw himself into it that day. He had to give his phone to Carmen so that he wouldn’t be tempted to check it every ten seconds. She gave him a weird look but took it anyway. When three o’clock hit, he gathered his things to head home. Anna’s flight was due in at four, and he wanted to be there when she got home so that he could tell her what he’d failed to tell her before she left.
***
The light in the bedroom was on when he got home. For a split second, he was terrified—was there an intruder? And would his briefcase be enough to knock said intruder unconscious? But then he noticed the suitcase against the wall adjacent to the living room.
His heart raced. She must have gotten back early.
He found her in the master bathroom putting her toiletries away. She was wearing old, beat-up jeans and a t-shirt, and her hair was in a messy ponytail, but to Rafael, she had never looked more beautiful. He stood watching her for just a second, breathless. He worried if he said anything that it wouldn’t come out right. The last conversation they had turned out terribly.
But as soon as she turned her blue eyes up and locked onto the green of his, words were the last thing on either of their minds.
She flew at him, leaping into his arms and knocking him backwards onto the bed. She kissed him everywhere; on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and, finally, finally, his mouth. He kissed her so deeply that he thought he might actually be able to drink her. She tasted like mint and smelled like ripe peaches. She had come back to him in a flood of living memories. She had come back to him, period.
He finally pulled back to look her in the eyes again, his own wet with tears. “Te amo,” he said. “Te amo, mi corazón.” He repeated it like a prayer, so many times that he worried it lost meaning, but to Anna, nothing ever sounded better.
Rafael made love to Anna for the next two hours, and every time he moaned her name, “I love you” wasn’t far behind.
After they were both finally spent, they lay under a throw blanket on the bedroom carpet; at some point in their lovemaking, Anna actually rolled off the bed and they just continued there, laughing and kissing all at once. She told Rafael about her trip and all the things she and Amanda had seen and done. He hung on every word. But there was one more story she had to tell, and she hoped that when he heard it, he would understand why she reacted the way she did when he arrived home.
“So,” she said, “I don’t think I mentioned, we had a cover story on this trip that we were sisters. We didn’t use our own names with anyone we met the entire time. It was like being undercover. So last night—”
He laughed. “Okay, I have to know. What was your UC name?”
“I was Ariel and Amanda was Aurora.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You seriously used Disney princess names?”
“Well, if you’re gonna go UC, no better cover than a mermaid and a narcoleptic princess, right?”
“Does that mean I get to be Eric?” When she gaped at him, he said, “We’ve been together for over a year. I think you underestimate how much Disney trivia I’ve picked up in that time.”
She drew in a deep breath and focused her eyes on his. “So, as I was saying, last night, we were having dinner and two really hot cowboys sent us shots of whiskey.”
He sat up slightly, alarmed. “Okay, why are you telling me—”
“Because you need to hear this,” she said, pushing him back down and propping herself up on her elbow. “Amanda wanted to go talk to them. And we ended up having a really good conversation. It was a lot of fun.” He looked stricken, and she softened her expression. “Raf, you know nothing happened, right?”
“Of course I know that,” he said, although he was glad for the confirmation. “I just—it’s not that I don’t want you to go on trips with your friends. But this time…I guess I wish I could have been there with you.”
She smiled and kissed his shoulder. “You were, Raf. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”
He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”
“Right before we went to talk to them? That was when I texted you goodnight. Because I wanted to make sure I said goodnight before you went to bed—whenever the hell that was this week. I didn’t want to do it late and have you wonder if I’d forgotten you.”
He felt tears welling in his eyes again. “Anna, I never would have thought that.”
“Even still. You were on my mind every night and every morning. I wasn’t just texting you to let you know I was safe. I wanted you to know that no matter what happens, no matter where I am or how things are between us, I’m always thinking of you. And,” she added, “I’ll always come home to you.”
He sat up and wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck, into her hair, and brought his lips to hers. When he pulled back, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
She pressed her forehead to his. “I’m sorry, too.” Then, she grabbed his watch from the nightstand above them. “I know it’s not our usual date night, but I could sure as hell use dinner and a movie right now. How about you?”
He smiled at her and ran a hand along her hip, memorizing the curves. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll even let you pick the movie.”
***
Anna wiped away her tears, which had been flowing for the last twenty minutes. After they’d eaten, she and Rafael had settled in to watch her favorite movie, What Dreams May Come. The plot was simple: the two main characters, Chris and Annie, lose their children in a horrible car accident. Annie has a mental breakdown and is institutionalized until she and Chris manage to rebuild their lives. But four years later, Chris also dies. His afterlife is beautiful, and he is reunited with his children. But when Annie commits suicide and is sent to hell, Chris journeys there to save her.
Even though Anna had seen it a thousand times, watching the two characters reunited at the end of the movie never failed to turn her into a weeping mess. She didn’t even try to hide it. “God,” she said, “That scene where they’re in Hell and he’s about to join her there and—Raf? Are you okay?”
Unlike Anna, Rafael preferred people think he was born without tear ducts. But there was no mistaking the sound of his sniffling next to her. “I’m fine,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
She leaned over and turned the end table light on. As her eyes adjusted, she caught him wiping his cheek with his shirt sleeve. “You’re crying!”
“I am not—”
“Yes, you are.” She handed him a Kleenex from the box she’d judiciously placed next to her before the movie started. He took it and blew his nose. “I warned you it was a gut-punch.”
“When you said it was a movie about soulmates, I think I expected, well, the usual tropes. I wasn’t prepared for something that seemed…realistic.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Almost the entire movie was set in heaven, and this is the one you’re calling realistic?”
“That’s not what I mean. Usually, movies make it seem like soulmates are perfect together and never fight and read each other’s minds. But come on, who gets that?”
She laughed. “People in movies.”
“Exactly,” he said. “People whose lives are literally scripted. But I don’t think our lives are predestined. For instance, I don’t think whatever higher power there is intended for you to be assaulted so that I could meet you.”
She cast her eyes downward. “Well, I’m glad to know that, because if that were the case, I’d think God was a huge asshole.”
He shifted on the couch to face her. “You want to know what part of the movie it was that got me?”
“Of course.”
He took a deep breath. “It was when they finally explained what their double-D anniversary was.” In the movie, Chris and Annie had a special anniversary; it commemorated the day they decided not to divorce after their children died and Annie had her breakdown.
“Oh, I know. When he told her not to give up—”
“No, it wasn’t that.” He cleared his throat. “When I first heard them described as soulmates, I was internally rolling my eyes. But then, we saw them suffering in two completely different ways. He pushed the pain away, and she collapsed under it.”
“Life’s like that,” she replied. “People react differently to things.”
“Yeah. But that’s what got me. They weren’t on the same wavelength at all. They didn’t just push through everything together like it was easy. They had to make an active decision to do it. When they chose to stay together, even after the gargantuan amount of suffering they went through…”
She pushed her hair over one of her shoulders and tilted her head. “So you do believe in soulmates now?”
“You know,” he said, “I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility. But like I said, I think soulmates aren’t people who are perfect together.” He took her hand. “I think they’re two people who aren’t perfect together—maybe even two people don’t even make sense together—but who make the choice every day to come back to each other. They fight, sometimes blow up, maybe don’t even speak to each other for a week, but they actively choose each other every day.”
She moved closer to him, tucking her legs underneath herself. “That sounds…very plausible.”
“Plausible,” he repeated with a chuckle. “In what world am I the romantic in this relationship?”
She grinned. “We can share the title.”
“I was thinking about the fight we had,” he said, pivoting so fast that Anna was worried he was shutting down on her again.
“Okay?”
“It was a nothing fight, but it turned into this big blow-up,” he continued. “A lot of couples would have let it get into their heads and make it into something about the relationship itself.”
She picked off a piece of lint from his shirt and smoothed the fabric over his shoulder. “Well, we’re not other couples.”
 He nodded. “And I know how people look at us when we’re out together. They see you, this beautiful, young, vibrant woman, and then they see me—”
“A handsome, distinguished, slightly silver fox?” she offered, gently touching his hair, the silver in it just beginning to show.
He smiled and put his hand on her cheek. The softness of her skin was like her generous heart: it never failed to amaze him. “The point is, despite what people think or say, or when life makes love hard, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we work at this, even through the hardest days, because we want to. We choose each other, every day—even if we need to go to other states to do it.” He winked at her.
She lifted his hand from her cheek and kissed his palm, her heart beating so hard it might have jumped out of her chest. “Are you saying…”
He didn’t complete her thought, but he didn’t have to. She knew the answer when he gave her that half-smile she loved so much. It made him look like a man much younger than his years, almost timid, a little mischievous. “I know, I just destroyed my grumpy, cynical persona. Don’t tell the squad; I have a reputation to keep up.”
For a minute, he was afraid that she would think he was silly or—worse—being disingenuous. But then he caught her eyes with his, and they were sparkling. She crawled from her spot on the couch into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You know, in the movies, this would be when the boy asks the girl to marry him,” she laughed.
He pulled her to him, so that their lips almost touched. “Well, we’re not other couples,” he said, just before he closed the gap between them.
***
Two weeks later, Anna had fallen asleep on the couch hours ago while she was reading and he was reviewing case files. He couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t fallen asleep when she read on the couch. She would lay with her legs stretched across his lap and he would run his hands along her calves, sometimes massaging them if she’d had a particularly hard day at the diner. She thought it was for her benefit, but the truth was, he loved doing it. Knowing he could relax her into sleep just with the touch of his hands was an intimacy he loved even more than sex. And so it was that he found himself lifting her legs off of his lap carefully, trying not to wake her. Mercifully, she was a heavy sleeper. It would probably be a struggle to get her into bed later on. For now, he decided to just change into pajamas and do the rest of his work in the home office. But there was something he wanted to do first.
The fight they’d had was a turning point. It had been a result of nothing more than mishandled stress on both of their parts. It hadn’t been anything deeper than that. But it had scared him more than any other argument they had ever had. She had gone away on trips before that, but he hadn’t been lonely. Their apartment still felt like their home because he knew she would be back. But when she’d been away with Amanda that week, he had been afraid she would realize she was happier away from him. So their home had temporarily transformed into just a place to keep his stuff. It didn’t feel comfortable. It didn’t feel warm. It just felt like four walls he slept in. Waking up without her was excruciating, as was knowing he would have to fall asleep without her there. He’d missed her laughter, her smile, the way he could smell her shampoo for hours after she’d left the bed. He’d missed seeing her body wash next to his in the shower.
He had missed her legs on his lap.
He crept into the bedroom and turned on the nightstand light, the dimmest in the room, so as not to wake her from afar. Then he went into the closet and opened one of the drawers. She never went into his closet, saying that she was afraid she would get lost under a pile of ties and vests, never to be seen again. He reached deep within the drawer, toward the back, and found what he was looking for.
Anna had joked that, in the movies, after a boy told a girl she was his soulmate, he would ask her to marry him. Although he had deflected the comment with a kiss, for just a heartbeat, he thought she had somehow tripped, fallen, and landed in his sock drawer. He had managed to compose himself, but now, his overstimulated, paranoid brain needed to make sure she hadn’t actually found what he was holding.
He looked over his shoulder, and then carefully opened the velvet box in his hand. The ring he had bought was still there, the question within it. All he had to do was choose a day to ask.
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asrasotherbottom · 5 years
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Lucio x GN!MC
I don’t have a good title my google doc is named “Nasty Little Man Time”  @bazzpop @malakdevorak Summary: Demanding Feedee Lucio gets whatever he wants ;) 
Content warnings: ~LEMON~,  D/s dynamics, Feedism, messy eating, oral, thigh riding, dirty talk, alcohol
thanks @apprenticeofcups for your lucio eating post because i am...weak. 
Word Count: 2066 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lucio had been whining all day about how hungry he was; it didn’t matter that he had eaten thrice already today. You knew what he meant by the glimmer in his eyes every time he dramatically announced that he was practically wasting away. Your eyes slid down his body as you thought to yourself that it was very apparent he was not. 
You quietly had whispered to the chefs what sort of spread you wanted them to prepare for that evening. They had long since stopped asking questions about your requests, no longer under the assumption that it might be for a celebration or for guests. Lucio’s steadily expanding waistline gave them all the answers they could need. 
It had started so softly, so gently. For Lucio, food was comfort and security. It was something that for so long was hard to come by in his youth, hard won through pain and sweat. For three years he was starving as a ghost, no amount of pain or effort or longing could sate his hunger. Being corporeal again only made his hunger stronger. He was protective of his food, afraid that any bite could be his last or that he would be thrown into hunger once more. He ate voraciously and with passion, oblivious to your lustful eyes watching. 
He caught on eventually, that your wandering hands were more than innocent touches. He noticed the way you would whisper to the chefs and more food would be brought out, just for him. It became a show in his eyes, to have you watch. As time went by he was less worried that any meal could be his last, less insecure about his food, but he was no less voracious and no less hungry. It made you happy, watching him eat, knowing how good being full made him feel (never mind how him being full made you feel). He liked the attention and he liked the food and he liked you, so your arrangement progressed. Now he was demanding food and eating just as voraciously has he had before, less out of insecurity, more out of pleasure. He was safe, he was loved, and he was always hungry for more. 
A spread fit for a Count awaited him in his room. There were trays piled high with meats and cheeses and fruits, and even a tray filled his favorite rare bloody steaks. Not to mention, of course, the trays of sweets, pastries, and puddings that surrounded his plush red bed. Lucio pulled you into the room, letting you fall against his exposed chest. You kissed him deeply as your hands wandered to his waist. 
“Aren’t you eager? Well so am I.” With a smirk, Lucio threw his cape over a chair and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I don’t really need all of this...restrictive clothing on, wouldn’t you agree?” You nodded, biting your lip and hurrying over to his side. You knelt down, sliding off each one of his boots and placing them neatly next to the bed. Carefully, you undid the strained button on his coat, followed by the even more tense button on his pants. His small, but notable, gut seemed to nearly burst out when the pressures of his clothes were taken away. You shifted slightly, noticing the pressure between your own legs. 
Making quick work of the rest of his disrobing, you neatly piled his clothes on the chair behind you. Lucio was laying naked on the bed, reclined back with one arm behind his head and one gently rubbing his chest. You eagerly grabbed a bunch of grapes and sat on the bed next to him. Lucio sat up and ran his hand through your hair as he kissed you, softly at first, but each kiss was deeper and more passionate than the last. He gave you a soft smile, and a wink, before his demeanor changed. 
“Well? Aren’t you going to feed me?” Lucio’s nose wrinkled as he reclined once more, mouth open expectantly. 
“Yes! Of course, here.” You slid a grape into his mouth, then another, then another. He ate quickly, and you were barely able to keep up. He let out deep moans of pleasure as he ate. When the bunch of grapes was finished, he leaned on his elbow and pointed to some cheese and crackers. 
You kept feeding him with your eyes looking at him nearly as hungrily as he was looking at the food around you. WIth no regard for cleaning himself up, he let crumbs fall over his chest and bed while he chewed. By the time he had cleared the plate your eyes were fixated on his stomach, amazed that he was still eating. The heat between your legs was only amplified at seeing how hard he was getting himself. You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of his voice. 
“This is taking too long. Give me that steak, now! If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” You reached over and handed him the plate, and he grabbed a piece of meat with both his hands, ripping off a piece with his teeth. He let the juices flow down his chest and onto his stomach. With each bite he let out what could only be described as an angry snarl. Lucio was a noisy eater, grunting and gasping and growling as he ripped off pieces of meat. He snapped his fingers at you. 
“Are you going to just sit there or are you going to make yourself useful?” 
“ What can I do for you? Please, anything.” Lucio grinned and pointed to another tray of food behind you. 
“Put that a little closer. And when you’ve done that, well, I shouldn’t be having all the fun here, should I?” He let out a bark of laughter and gestured to his fully hard cock. “Enjoy your meal,” he said with a sneer before sinking his teeth back into his bloody steak. Nodding your head you knelt between his thighs and pressed your lips to the tip of his cock. You took his head into your mouth, pressing your tongue against it firmly. Lucio looked down at you with a smirk before throwing back a glass of wine, letting it run out of the corners of his mouth and down his chin. 
You focused your attention on moving your mouth artfully along his shaft, swirling your tongue and cupping his balls in your hand while you worked. When you looked up at Lucio, you could barely see his face past his heavy, full stomach. With renewed intensity you continued to pleasure him with your mouth. Before long you could hardly tell if his gasps and moans were from the plate of sweets or from your tongue. For a brief moment you slid your mouth off of him, and sat up on your knees. He had stopped eating for a moment and was surrounded by empty plates.
“My meal isn’t done until yours is, don’t forget.” His voice was sharp but came out as more of a moan than anything else. With a smile, you leaned back down, slipping him into your mouth. Lucio was practically screaming your name with the pleasure of your tongue and the delicious pain of his fullness. He didn’t last long after that, arching his back and grabbing at the sheets in desperation as he came into your mouth. 
Lucio was breathing heavy, his stomach rising and falling in a way that was mesmerizing to you. You wiped your mouth on the back of your hand and climbed up next to him. His expression softened for a moment, before he wrinkled his nose again. 
“Are you going to just let me sit here covered in crumbs and food like this?” You shook your head, nearly springing out of bed to fetch the pan of water and wet cloth by the dresser. You bit your lip as you ran the wet cloth over his body. You wiped up his stomach and his sides first, before moving on to his chest. With the most delicacy you could, you wiped the wine stains from his chin and the corners of his mouth, leaning in for a kiss when you were done. You looked him in the eyes eagerly for a moment, when he suddenly put his arm around you, pulling you towards him so you were straddling his thigh. 
You pressed one hand against his stomach and he let out a sharp groan. Watching as your hands sunk slightly into his flesh, you let your hips twitch forward for a moment. 
“Oh do you like that?” You bit your lip and nodded, letting yourself rock your hips on his thigh again. “You’ve done this to me you know.” He prodded his gut, letting it jiggle slightly. Your hips steadily rocked against him, which contributed to that. You pressed your hands into his side, steadying yourself, but Lucio let out a low growl that was a mix of pain and pleasure. 
“I was never like this before, but you kept bringing me all this food. What did you think was going to happen?” His face twisted into a sneer as he saw you panting and riding his thigh. You knew how much he demanded but you knew how much you encouraged him. You closed your eyes and focused on the feeling of his soft thigh under you, rubbing against you as you moved yourself against him. The thought of the way he was comfortable eating for you and the security he felt to let his body change to indulge in these moments that you two shared, the feeling of his body underneath you and the thought of his growls as he ripped into food were all swirling in your head. 
“Fuck!” You cried out as you came, hard, shuddering against him. You collapsed by his side, panting. 
The dark demanding demeanor was gone, and Lucio was smiling down at you in earnest. You looked up at him and gave him a gentle kiss while he tucked you under his arm. You put your head on his chest and gently rubbed his full belly. 
“You did good, as usual. Did you enjoy yourself? Everything...okay?” His words were a smooth caress that washed over you as you tried to catch your breath. 
You grinned softly, still exhausted. “Mhmmmm. You did really great too.” You gave his stomach a playful pat before going back to tenderly rubbing it. Lucio practically purred at your touch; he was very sore, but very content. 
“You already knew I was going to give a good show.” Involuntarily, you let out a snort. He was right, though. You leaned over, kissing his cheek gently and then kissing his small double chin, letting your lips sink into it a little. Lucio craned his head back, giving you better access to keep trailing kisses down his neck.
Moving down his chest, you focused your attention more on his stomach, planting gentle kisses along it and giving it a gentle squeeze. Lucio’s eyes fluttered shut and he exhaled through his nose. 
“How do you feel about this?” Lucio’s eyes opened again at your words. 
“It’s good. Your hands always seem to know what I need.”
“I mean, all of this,” you gestured to the empty trays and gave his soft thigh a squeeze. Lucio closed his eyes again, laying back with his arm behind his head. His nose and brow were both scrunched, as he thought. Still slightly uncomfortable with the concept of revealing his emotions, his gaze fell on the wall above your shoulder as he spoke. 
“It feels,” he paused, his expression softening,”soft, hm, safe. I’m not used to any of this but...its good.” He turned over on his side with a groan. That was all you were going to get from him. You laid your head beside his, gently stroking his hair as he buried his face in your chest with an arm around your waist. 
“You are safe, and you are loved.” He let out a deep breath and pulled you in close to him, so that your bodies were flush up against one another. 
 You laid there in bed for a long while in comfortable silence with him,  both thinking about how lucky you were to have each other.
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gyromitra-esculenta · 4 years
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Continuing the eldritch horror thing, 1st part of ‘Hey, Jack’. I do have fun with it but it’s hard to write. Anyway, the first part of it makes me myself uncomfortable, so here’s that.
Warnings (for the whole planned ‘Hey, Jack’ story in this universe, maybe not exactly for this chapter): this is ‘eldritch horror’ (gore/violence) so take that into account, otherwise: rape, panic attacks, terminal illness.
*
(...) Saint Francine whom the Angels of the Fields adore. (...)
Before
She stands on the side of the road, her face turned towards the sky and the stars therein – the summer dress made with too much cloth hangs loosely around her frame and her hair bound and covered with a plain scarf.
He knows it is not the proper way, but tomorrow she is of age, and his father and hers had made the arrangement months prior, so Tommy approaches her. She gazes over her shoulder as his footsteps on the dried grass give him away, and questions him with her eyes.
She isn't the prettiest one – nor the friendliest – but the high cut of her cheekbones and the resolute jut of her chin, the way her eyes narrow and lips purse when she finds something disagreeable, or how her hair shines in the sunlight in those rare moments she lets it flow free down her back – he loves it.
So he tells her of their marriage to be and what fine wife she will make – the children she'll bear – and that with her blessings he will be the next Holy Father, because how could it not happen with the Saint at his side?
She leans into his touch, coy and meek as any woman should be, but then, she escapes from his embrace and leaves Tommy with the scarf in his grasp as her locks spill down her shoulders in a cascade of moonlit silver. She glances back at him, her lips parted and lashes lowered, the dress swirling around her legs, calls him to herself.
Knowing no fear, he follows her deeper and deeper into the swaying stalks – for Saint Francine whom the Angels of the Fields adore is promised to be his.
*
Now
His eyes flick to the two unassuming stones framing the dirt path as the deadly nails bite into the skin of his neck, the points digging into the flesh layered over the arteries, such big hands on a woman to wrap her fingers around his throat. But it is only a glamour Jack can see through, and not everything can be hidden by it. The rifle is wedged sideways between them as she moves closer, curious, head leaning in almost for a kiss, her breath brushing against his lips.
"Ah," Moira chuckles, inhaling deep.
"Where did you send him?"
"I was thinking of squashing you like the inconsequential mortal you are, but this is far too useful when Reaper realizes."
"The fuck?" He barely restrains himself from head-butting her, the worry gnawing at his ribs from inside.
Keep her talking. Keep her wasting her time. Get her to lower her guard.
"Four beats of Hecate's heart and your shirt will be rightfully mine to wash in cold spring, again."
"Tell me something I don't fucking know," Jack seethes, the grip he has on the rifle whitening his knuckles.
"How does it feel, to waste away slowly in futility?"
"You tell me, banshee, the world doesn't need your kind anymore."
"Ah, ah, ah," the points of the nails sink further, "this world is ending, and the ones that had been lost are waiting to feast on its carcass, all of them, all thanks to him, and your death will deliver, I see it now."
"My death," Jack grits his teeth, "changes nothing."
"Doesn't it?" She laughs. "May be so, but then, how unimportant you are that with or without you, the outcome remains the same. Reaper will come to us, as will the Herald. Now," her hand loosens, barely, "a parting gift for you."
Before he can react Moira moves away, and not a second later he's fighting against something clinging to his face, his hands become entangled in it, it feels like he's suffocating... Cloth. A bunch of cloth. Jack tears it off and throws it to the ground.
White and red cotton glares at him from the ground - chequered pattern, oddly familiar, broken up by folds and rips - his stomach and heart turn inside out and burning cold drips down his spine, this time he can't breathe as his throat seizes up.
It's a dress. A summer dress.
There's no mistaking it now and Jack scrambles back to get away from it in a fit of blind panic. His heel catches on a root sending him tumbling – he scratches the ball of his palm trying to cushion the fall, the butt of the rifle juggled up by his knee hits him in the face. His feet scramble for any purchase as he pushes himself back further from the swath of fabric – until his shoulders and head collide with the crumbling stone wall and Jack freezes, gulping the air, his vision tunneling and dark shapes dancing at the edges of it.
Why would she have it, why... Why would she leave it here?
The half-choked sob Jack doesn't bother to try hold back rips his throat with its thorns while his nails dig into the pads of his palms. And then he laughs, strained and high-pitched.
His sister's dress.
Of course – of course, she would have it – it's the dress she died in, washed clean of the blood, and that fact gives him some twisted vindication as the laugh passes into small sobs that shake his whole frame. Clenching his eyes shut, Jack slowly works his breath under control.
He's successful for a moment – strained muscles hurting already, or hurting because of the exertion needed to force them to move against his body's wishes – until he remembers Gabriel and pulls himself upright, leaning on the wall. A loose stone slips from under his hand. Before he regains his balance, his arm slides over the hard edge, the elbow hitting the rock – the angry pain of the still mending wound drowned out by the incoming wave of hot and cold having him suddenly stagger.
Jack launches himself forward a few bumbling steps.
And it's as much as it takes him to realize he's gone from one extreme to the other: hyperventilating now, already lightheaded, with dryness in his mouth and on the tongue. He gives the dress a wide berth; the darkness at the edge of his vision is replaced by unnatural clarity.
The contours of the stones between which Moira threw Gabriel with her voice almost shine with white static; the gate is ancient, and he expected it to be dormant, or destroyed, but the fact Gabriel went through it and didn't land on the other side proved otherwise.
The shimmer in the space contained within them is barely perceptible: not of the light but of the air wavering over the ground in the zenith of the summer sun. Jack reaches out and immediately draws his hand back as if burned because he sees what is on the other side. The only place and time he can't – will not – follow after Gabriel.
The stalks of corn sway under the starlit sky, slow and stately; the fireflies dance their courtships.
And, somewhere there in the fields, his sister, wearing a white and red chequered summer dress, is dying.
Jack collapses with arms wrapped around his stomach clenching with white-hot stabs of pain, with forehead pressed into his knees, and screams to drown out the thumping in his ears but it persists and each beat of his heart he hears in his veins brings forth a wave of nausea. The crushing weightlessness threads itself into his body, its tendrils infiltrate all of his senses until there is nothing left but static and darkness.
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