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ace-does-stuff · 1 year ago

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Three Weed Smoking Girlfriends

Summary: Kylie doesn't smoke, her best friends do, things get intimate faster than she could imagine.

Warnings: Smoking, check ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: I was fucking wracking my brain for all the right words and terms but I was coming up short and my dignity would not allow me to ask the local grower (my father) for help. this time we have stylenny, which uh, was unplanned, but now we have three weed smoking girlfriends which is actually an amazing unexpected turn of events.

"Want a hit?" Stacy asked, holding out the lit embers to Kylie.

"I'll pass on becoming part of the worlds worst blunt rotation," Kylie answered with a laugh on her voice as she glanced over her friends.

Wendyl pouted, "What? You really think this is the worlds worst rotation?"

Kylie nodded, "You, Stacy, Kelsey, and Claire? Yeah, that is the worlds worst blunt rotation."

"Don't be so cruel Kylie," Kelsey said as she slumped back against the redhead.

"Yeah, don't be so cruel," Claire chimed in with as she ran a hand through choppy black locks atop her head.

Wendyl took hold of the cigarette, "I learned a cool trick."

"Smoke rings?" Kylie asked.

Wendyl nodded as he took a hit before exhaling in rings of smoke, he only got a few. He held out the smoldering embers to Kelsey who gladly took it.

"Stacy you gotta get some better shit," Kelsey said with a bit of a laugh.

"It's all the leftovers from moms trimming, take it or leave it," Stacy said as she watched her partner in crime exhale a gray haze.

"The flavors clash, too much citrus," Kelsey said, Claire nodded along as Kelsey idled with the lit end. Pressing her finger to it until it stung just a bit, she'd handled worse.

"Well sorry that she won't let me buy any from her shop," Stacy complained.

"Get good and steal some," Kylie said as she ran her hands through Kelseys hair, carding fingers between blonde locks. Kelsey leaned back into her, a pleased and syrupy sweet smile on her face.

Stacy gave a groan, "My mom would kill me if she caught me stealing the stuff she sells."

"It'd be hilarious," Wendyl said with a light laugh bereft of malicious intent.

"So fucking funny," Kelsey said.

"It would not be funny," Stacy said.

"It would be hilarious," Kylie countered with.

-/-/-/-

"It's just a bit of smoke," Stacy urged as she tapped the cigarette in her hands, a haze of almost blue smoke escaping with her words.

Kylie just looked intimidated.

"It doesn't hurt," Stacy said with a sigh as she slumped back further against the chair she sat in, toque discarded. She ran a hand through her hair, deep black locks water-falling over her shoulders.

"I know," Kylie said quietly.

"Then how come you always pussy out of a quick high?" Stacy asked as Kylie walked over and sat down next to her. She nuzzled up next to Kylie, holding the lit end of her cigarette to the side.

Kylie pauses, "Government weed is fucking dogshit honestly."

"You've smoked before?!" Stacy exclaimed, Kylie nodded.

"Oh yeah, it was not pleasant," Kylie said, "They cracked open a box of cigs and said 'take a hit?' and I did, and I'm pretty sure I bruised something with how much I was coughing. It was terrible," She took a deep breath, the haze of the room just the way it always is.

"Damn bro," Stacy said, she paused, staring up at the ceiling fan, "Wanna try again?"

"Nope," Kylie said, "I will sit here with you when you're getting high as shit."

There's a hum of amusement, "Thanks girl."

-/-/-/-

"Kelsey I'm going to fucking cry," Stacy got out as she reached into her pocket, pulling out some rolling papers.

Kelsey just hummed, "What is it this time Stace?"

"Kylie doesn't smoke," Stacy said, hastily spreading a thin sheet of paper.

"Obviously," Kelsey said, grabbing her pair of scissors and a small clump before snipping it even smaller.

"And she thinks we fucking buy our shit- which we don't- and she bruised a rib coughing last time she tried," Stacy said, using the back of her fingernail to press the green into a line before rolling it up. She licked a stripe along the exposed edge before sealing it up and handed it to Kelsey. The McCormick pulled out her lighter and lit the end of the cigarette, "She's never gonna smoke with us Kelsey."

Kelsey shrugged as she handed the smoke to Stacy who took a drag far too fast, sputtering a bit as she coughed. The blonde watched her partner in crime, "And?"

"God, Kelsey that is the one thing I wanted to do with her," Stacy said, bringing a hand to tussle through dark strands of hair. She gave a long sigh, "I've been waiting and offering for so long and she doesn't smoke."

"What about shotgunning?" Kelsey offered as she took Stacys hand, stalling her motions to let the idea sink into her head. She simply glanced over to Kelsey and stared.

"Fucking what?" Stacy asked as Kelsey took a hold of a cigarette.

"I could show you but it's pretty gay," Kelsey said, "Just hold still for me and breath, like CPR."

"Like CPR?" Stacy asked as Kelsey took a drag, she rested a hand on Stacy's cheek and tilted her until they were locked in eye contact. She pulled her into a kiss and exhaled, Stacy inhaled, the contact was brief and the smoke easily exchanged. When Kelsey pulled away there was a swiftly diffusing haze of gray between them.

"That, is shotgunning," Kelsey said, hand comfortably atop Stacys cheek.

Stacy spoke next, haze spilling out as she spoke, "Wow."

"Just offer to do that with Kylie, your moms got some of those fancy plants that don't have nicotine right?" Kelsey asked, releasing her grasp on Stacy's face and dropping a knee while hitching the other.

"Yeah, we got two," Stacy said.

"Use that, tell her it won't induce a high- I'm sure she'll be down to do it with you," Kelsey said. She smiled a bit, "I might even tag along.

"That would be so much fun," Stacy said with a bit of a laugh, she drew out the 'o' as she spoke.

-/-/-/-

"What the fuck did you do to the weed?" Kylie asked as she took another deep inhale of the haze, it smelt different.

Stacy gave a lazy grin, "Special strain, less citrus tones."

"A new one?" Kylie asked, Kelsey nodded.

"Brand new, sprouted it myself, Stace did most of the work to actually prune and grow it," Kelsey said, slung over the back of the couch. She dropped a hand to run through Kylies hair, the redhead comfortably against the armrest, one leg hanging over the edge. Stacy was resting comfortably in Kylies lap, back to her front and head resting at her sternum.

"I didn't you gardened Kelsey," Kylie said as she rested her hands at Stacy's abdomen.

"I don't, Stacy just needed somewhere to put her seeds and said I could grow one or two," Kelsey said with a laugh.

Stacy gives a sigh, "So you know how you don't smoke Kylie?"

Kylie nodded, "Yep."

"I was wondering if you'd want to try out shotgunning?" Stacy asked as she pushed herself off of Kylies form, the redhead quirked a brow.

"So long as I'm not putting a cigarette in my mouth we're good," Kylie said, she lifted her leg to the couch and shifted in spot. She watched as Stacy hesitantly move to face her, her hand shook a bit.

"Cool, cool," Stacy said, "You just gotta breath and it'll work."

Kylie nodded, watching with as Stacy brought a hand to her face, hand sliding down to the back of her neck. There's a chill rolling through her as painted nails tap along her spine. With her free hand Stacy takes a heady hit, then she's pulling Kylie into a kiss. It's short, and the flavor of the smoke instantly assaults Kylie, but she breaths like she was told. She breaths deep and holds it until Stacy backs away before trying to exhale it without coughing much.

Kelsey gives a hum as she runs a hand through a mess of red curls, she revels in the relief Stacy is wearing and the shock on Kylies face, "Enjoy it?"

Kylie nods, "Oh yeah."

"Cool, don't think that Stacy gets to hog the fun though," Kelsey said, a smirk growing on her face as Kyle turned to face her. She raises her cigarette, lit end burning like amber, "My turn."

Kylie does nothing to stop her friend, melts into the slight pull as she takes a hit. She easily reciprocates, inhaling every wisp of smoke in the delayed exhale. A haze rests around them in the brief moments that Kelsey pulls back, bluish gray smoke spilling from parted lips and Kylie can't believe she's chasing the feeling. She can't believe she's chasing the contact that Kelsey is so willingly doling out, hands on her face and in her hair.

"How about that?" Kelsey asked when she finally pulled away for good and Kylie looks just a bit zoned out, "There's no nicotine, don't worry."

Kylie still can't make her words work, especially not with Stacy's hands coming back to her form. Sliding along her waist where her shirt rode up only a bit, she slung herself atop the red head, "Fun?"

Kylie nodded, she brings her arms to rest over Stacys shoulders, hands on her back.

Kelsey is grinning a Cheshire grin from her perch atop the couch, smoke almost at her lips once more, "Wanna do it again?"

#south park #stylenny #kenny mccormick #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #craig n wendy are also there very briefly #south park fanfiction #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #tw smoking

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neonponders · 4 years ago

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👀 👀 👀 👀 Oh jesus oh lord. Deeper Than Skin is finished so I’ll enable another wip.

@ghostofjellyfishforgotten I hope you don’t mind me using your tags on this vampire!Billy / blood donor!Steve post as inspiration! Your brain is just too big for me not to pass up an opportunity to write vampire shenanigans.

Read on ao3 ~

🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹

Steve didn’t judge people who worked as donors—

Fine, as an adult with a better awareness and compassion, Steve didn’t judge donors. He might’ve said some shitty things to Jonathan Byers when he worked to make his family extra money.

Honestly? Steve admired that. Jonathan being underage and having the guts to figure out how to get into the donation clinic, and then to let…

Steve knew he was a coward in a lot of ways. He knew it when he called Jonathan a queer who enjoyed leeches sucking on him. He knew it when he lost to the punches Byers threw. For a skinny, half empty blood bag, the guy could really hit. And Steve knew it when he almost ran away from Nancy and Jonathan fighting off the rogue vampire who kidnapped little Will Byers.

But Steve didn’t run away.

Just like he didn’t run away from the couch he sat on with his mother while his father explained…a situation that left Steve digging deeper and deeper into the gap between fear and bravery. Maybe call it disassociation. Or confused shock.

“You what?”

Harrington senior never took well to being interrupted. But he sighed from across the coffee table and reiterated, “The family is in debt.”

“No. You. You’re in debt. This is your problem.”

The man certainly didn’t take well to having his own mistakes shoved under his nose. “This isn’t for debate. This is the way things are and need to be.”

“No,” Steve repeated like a broken record clinging onto its song. “This is your fault. Who’s made me work minimum wage jobs to teach me a lesson? Who’s refused to pay for me to go to community college? Who hasn’t let me work in their company? And who made the shitty gambles with your company’s stocks? You shoved me out, so it’s definitely not my problem—”

“The contract has already been signed.”

Now his mother shifted her posture on the couch beside him. “Excuse me?”

Steve’s father moved his blunt nails over the armrest of his wingback, fidgeting. At least something put fear into the old bastard’s heart.

“There’s nothing I could do. The market has been evolving ever since vampires gained their rights and opened up their decades and centuries old bonds—”

“Vampire legislation passed over a century ago,” Mrs. Harrington purred. Sometimes the worst anger was the quiet kind. “You have no excuse. You lost the game, and you sold our son. Is that what we’re to believe?”

“That’s not possible,” Steve intercepted. “Slavery isn’t a thing anymore. Even I picked that up in history. And I would have to be there to sign the contract! It’s my—”

“Steve,” his father silenced. “When enough money is involved, anything is bought. And you’re not like anyone else.”

Mrs. Harrington fumed, “Do not talk to him like he’s a prize pony!”

“Except to a wealthy vampire, he is.”

Steve could only sit in weighted silence for a moment. He always joked to himself that he’d be disowned one of these days. For being a disappointment. For all of his bad grades. For giving his friends alcohol and cigarettes. For only being able to get jobs that required no qualifications or experience level at all. For discovering he liked kissing boys at the grimy music venues Robin took him to. Maybe living at home for too long. Or leaving the smell of burnt pancakes in the air too often because he always struggled with the first one—

“Vampire?” he croaked. For some reason it hadn’t dawned to him until now but…shit.

Holy shit.

Steve wasn’t being sold off to be some billionaire’s secretary for life. He was being…truly sold. Like…goodbye, Steve, who likes spring nights and summer mornings. His favorite food is breakfast and he wishes he kept with the music lessons his mom paid for instead of being peer pressured into sports. Whose best friend was Robin Buckley because she was brave and funny and stuck with him during his ironic and a little bit terrifying queer awakening…

Hello, Donor 0235. Blood type O. Allergic to nickel and checks off all vaccination requirements.

“Steve’s not wrong,” his mother echoed like a voice deep in a cave, drawing Steve out of his thoughts. “He is the one to sign the contract. Not you.”

“He is still classified as our dependent and on our insurance,” his father refused.

“So being an adult means nothing in this country?”

“They have our family records, Annette!” he exclaimed. “There is a dual government in this country even if nobody below upper-middle class sees it. The human government had to cede a great deal because the vampire population is massive. And they’ve kept track of all the Sanguis families! Name changes, and two World Wars did nothing to save us—”

“The what?” Steve all but whispered.

His mother rotated her hips to face him. “We only have legends about how it happened. Paleolithic gods making deals, vampires crossbreeding humans to make a certain kind of blood donor, human evolution after symbiotic deals were struck—but that doesn’t matter. The point is that there are people in this world with abilities that preserve themselves against vampires. That’s why you healed in less than two days after that silly fight by the movie theatre.”

His father intercepted, “The genes skipped your mother but fell to you.”

Steve’s eyes widened as his mother confirmed, “To protect us, girls have been promoted in the family tree for generations. Through marriage, their names could change, and make them harder to track.”

Steve countered toward his father, “So this really isn’t your place to sign my life away. Like five times over.”

“I quite agree,” his mother turned back to the man she’d married. The man who was supposed to protect her and her children with his name and promising, growing business.

At least Steve wasn’t the only failure in the family.

His father massaged his forehead and defended, “As I said. Humans’ government is far easier to corrupt our way into forgiving any debt. The vampires, however, are inconsolable. The bastard would have my business, the cars, our house, and taken his time discovering Steve on his own if I hadn’t—”

Steve took after his father, but he was his mother’s son as they both stood up from the couch, furious that this man had thrown his own kid under a vampire’s bus—

“Get out of the house, Steve.”

His head whipped around at her. “I-What?”

“Get out of the house,” she seethed, but not at him. “I don’t care where or what you do. Go.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice but he hadn’t managed to grab his car keys or his shoes before the house and his ribcage trembled with his parents’ arguing. He went in his socks outside and put the shoes on in his car.

Then…he didn’t know where to go. Running the hell away seemed like the obvious solution, but if vampires really had such a network, what was the point? And if he left, what would happen to his mom?

Steve drove on autopilot to the video rental store. Robin. All he had was Robin, who took the lollipop out of her mouth when the bell on the door twittered. “Hey, dingus, it’s your day off—Steve?”

He couldn’t really remember driving. That probably should have raised more red flags than he already had, but for now, the black and neon carpeting of the Family Video was blurring and swirling…

“I’m gonna throw up,” he heard himself say.

And Robin in that distant, echoing cave his mother had spoken from, “Outside! STEVE!”

#harringrove #vampire!billy #blood donor!steve #sanguis #neonponders #pondermoniums #ghostofjellyfishforgotten

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jimlingss · 5 years ago

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Sugar and Coffee [21]

Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 21.5 OR Chapter 22

➜ Words: 4.5k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Baking is a mastery. It’s an ability that needs to be practiced and refined. It requires discipline and patience, especially when things go wrong. It’s problem solving and creative with never one right answer. It’s practically magic in a silver bowl, a whisk, and an oven. And Jungkook is the best wizard in this kitchen. He preheats the oven to three hundred and seventy five degrees fahrenheit. Then he cuts parchment paper to line a baking sheet and moves to brush the ramekins with melted butter. Jungkook adds the tablespoon of white sugar and rotates the ramekins until the surfaces are coated in it. Five ounces of seventy percent dark chocolate is put into a bowl with two ounces of semisweet chocolate and he melts it over a saucepan with hot water on low heat. Afterwards, he adds the egg yolks until the mixture stiffens. Jungkook wipes his sweat before he mixes in the tablespoon of flour and butter, reducing the heat to low and adding in some cold milk. It’s thickened after three minutes and he adds salt, a pinch of cayenne pepper as a secret ingredient, and mixes. The bowl is left over hot water while he whips egg whites with a pinch of cream of tartar, adding sugar after a bit to create glossy, soft peaks. Jungkook transfers the egg whites into the soufflé base, folding it in gently one third at a time and then he divides the mixture to bake for a full fifteen minutes. What he’s left with at the end is the best chocolate soufflé on the planet. “What do you think?” “It’s really good.” Aeri politely smiles and you roll your eyes. “You don’t need to feed his ego. He’s been raving about it for days now.” “And you’ve eaten at least ten of them.” Jungkook grins and you mutter incoherently, unable to really protest against the claim that’s all too true. The soufflé is puffed and crusty on top, but still gooey and jiggly in the center. It’s risen to its maximum height without collapsing whatsoever, uniform all around. And the texture is cloud-like, soft with the chocolate taste melting on the palate. It took two weeks to perfect — but the outcome made the effort all worth it. “I call it the ultimate soufflé.” Your brows raise. “The ultimate? Not Jungkook’s ultimate?” “Nope. The ultimate.” He smirks and leans into you. “Want another one?” You hope he doesn’t know that it takes a lot of strength for you to reject. Jungkook’s good at baking. That much is clear. You’re not sure if he’s as good as you are of course, but anything that has to do with chocolate practically has his name on it. His chocolate soufflé is no exception. It’s fucking delicious. Enough that even Yoongi asks for seconds and Taehyung almost starts to cry. But you don’t want to admit just how good it is since his ego’s been boundless these past few days. “How does it feel to be in a relationship with the best chocolatier on Earth?” he pipes up suddenly when you haven’t even said a single word for the past five minutes. And when you tell Jungkook he’s not a chocolatier yet, he laughs and tells you he will be soon while condescendingly patting your head like you’re his pet. As if that wasn’t enough, he interrupts snuggling time by rolling over with a pompous look on his face. “I’m just so happy right now.” “Why?” You’re expecting a corny answer along the lines of — ‘because you’re here’. But instead Jungkook sighs dreamily and says, “I really nailed that soufflé, didn’t I?” It’s annoying. You’re just trying to live your life peacefully but in every shape, way, or form, no matter the context, he just has to bring up that goddamn soufflé like it’s his child he’s so proud of. It’s not like you aren’t happy for your boyfriend — frankly, you wouldn’t mind if he bragged or boasted about it to others. But he’s been constantly chirping about it in your ear. And any complaints from you would just warrant his grins and questions of if you’re jealous of his skills. “I don’t know what to add to my portfolio,” you mention passingly one afternoon after much contemplation. Your boyfriend hums. “You need something with chocolate, right?” “Yeah.” “Well, you could make my soufflé. I’m sure it would help with your grade a lot, but—,” Jungkook draws out the syllable with another sly smirk, “my recipe’s a secret. Sorry, babe. Wish I could help.” In spite of your inner exhaustion and vexation, for the sake of being a good girlfriend, you simply nod and let him have his moment. Even if Jeon Jungkook was being unbearably arrogant and reminding you of why you hated him about a year ago, he was clearly happy with the recipe he worked so hard on and you didn’t want to step on that. He deserves some personal limelight, so you let him have it. But luckily, you don’t have to bear the weight of his smug ass by yourself for long. “Yuna!” Your arm waves over your head. The high schooler smiles, rolling her luggage behind her and meeting with you halfway. Immediately, you engulf her in your arms even when she grumbles and resists. “How was the trip here? You’re not hungry, are you?” “God, you’re like my mom,” she huffs. “It was fine. Hey, Jungkook.” Yuna shifts and smiles warmly at your boyfriend who nods, greeting her as well. “Hey.” “So this is the school you go to?” You grin. “Sure is!” The last time you were with Yuna, she expressed interest in the professional baking and pastry arts program. You didn’t expect that she would actually come visit during the week-long break for a tour but it was a surprise you welcomed. You hope you can take her interest and curiosity and inspire her. “Namjoon and Sejeong packed some cookies for you. They told me to say...thanks….for showing me around when you’re busy and stuff.” “It’s not a problem. I’m happy to.” You smile. “Tell them I said thanks too.” “Taehyung’s joining us,” Jungkook reads off his phone and then pockets it. “Apparently, he’s bored.” You shrug. “Fine by me.” “Who’s Taehyung?” Yuna asks. “Just a friend of ours,” you say to ease her obvious worries of the stranger. The three of you wait a few minutes, getting caught up with one another as Yuna talks about what her last classes were about. But soon after, the tall brunette is strolling over with his hands buried in his white hoodie pockets. His hair is disheveled like he just rolled out of bed and you don’t think that’s too far from the truth. “Jimin ditched me to go on some date with the chick from his classic desserts class,” he whines when he gets in ear-shot distance. “I thought I was going to die of boredom.” “Tough life,” you scoff and don’t notice Yuna who’s frozen next to you. Her eyes are wide on the stranger, gaze sweeping up and down at him. She swallows hard before stepping forward and making herself known. “H-Hi. My name is Kim Yuna.” “Oh yeah.” Taehyung grins easily. “They told me about you.” “Did they? I’m glad.” She giggles and tucks her hair behind her ear. You exchange expressions with Jungkook. This was an awfully familiar situation. “I’m Namjoon’s niece, their boss during their internship.” “I’m Kim Taehyung.” They shake hands and Yuna goes in for the kill without hesitation— “Does your girlfriend know you’re here?” Taehyung is flustered, taken aback by the blunt question. “I….don’t have a girlfriend.” “Great.” Yuna answers swiftly with a big smile. You have to admit, she’s bold. The girl has some guts even you don’t have. And you’ve never witnessed Taehyung this perplexed either. It’s hard to catch someone as spontaneous as him off guard. “How old are you?” Taehyung frowns, an apprehensive expression etched on his features like you’re telling him to touch a gooey substance in the corner of some dirty bathroom stall. “I turned eighteen in May,” she declares bluntly. But Taehyung looks unconvinced despite his slow nod. “That’s barely legal,” he mutters and only you and Jungkook catch it. It’s hard to hold back laughter, but you try your best and interrupt— “Should we start the tour?” You show her around campus, walking through the corridors, directing her where the lecture halls are and what classes are where. You tell her what it was like for first years and you show her the dormitories, the lockers, the dining hall, and the kitchen area. All in the meanwhile, Taehyung sticks to Jungkook’s side like gum. It’s obvious that he’s intimidated by the petite high schooler and it’s an amusing sight. But Yuna is a go-getter and somehow manages to get Taehyung beside her to answer her numerous questions. You and Jungkook fall back, no longer showing her the way and you’re reduced to watching their backsides. “You know what I want to eat right now?” Jungkook turns to you, mumbling, “My soufflé.” Here we go again…. You internally sigh, but maintain a stiff smile. “Uh-huh.” “I should make it for Yuna. She’d be blown away.” “What?” The younger girl twirls around at the mention of her name. Jungkook grins at her. “You like soufflé? I make the best chocolate soufflé here.” Yuna blinks, too innocent to know better. “Really?” “Your soufflé isn’t even that good.” It’s a lie. “I bet I could do it better.” That’s an even bigger lie, but you can’t stop it once it’s spewed out of your mouth. It goes silent. Jungkook stops walking. Taehyung turns around. “You think you can make a better chocolate soufflé than me?” Your boyfriend’s eyes narrow, taking personal offence. You shrug — it’s too late to back down now. “Why not? Can’t be that hard.” Jungkook scoffs with a stupidly smug expression, calling your bluff. “You can barely temper chocolate.” “You underestimate me, Jeon,” you bite back and his lips curl. “Fine. Let’s see then.” // It was a mistake — something said on impulse, after days of irritation bubbling in the pit of your stomach. It came tumbling out before you could know better, before you could think twice about the consequences, but now you’re standing in the kitchen at an impromptu competition. “Welcome to the annual Jeon and L/N competition, everyone!” “This isn’t annual,” you mutter at Taehyung’s unnecessary extravagance. He corrects himself— “Welcome to the first annual Jeon and L/N competition, everyone!” The word spread like wildfire, but luckily kept only in the group chat. The last thing you needed were acquaintances, classmates, and teachers coming to watch. The guys were noisy enough. And it’s a testament proven with Yoongi coming over, Hoseok sprinting to get here, and Jimin calling to tell everyone to wait for his date to be over. All of it was enough pressure you could handle at the moment. But even Aeri had caught wind of what was going on and decided to come by. It’s clear that there’s still tension between her and Hoseok. You don’t miss the strained expressions they exchange with one another before taking seats on the opposite ends, but you’re glad that they can at least be in the same room as one another. It’s an improvement. A sign of moving on. Yet you don’t dwell on them — not when you have bigger fish to fry at the moment. “Over here we have Y/N who believes she can make a better chocolate soufflé than Jungkook, an aspiring chocolatier who literally took weeks and weeks to perfect this recipe of his to make it the ultimate soufflé—” “Alright, that’s enough,” you cut off Taehyung, the self-designated commentator, before you start actually sweating. Jungkook is competitive. Everyone and their mother knows that. And that fact alone makes you nervous. He might just throw you entirely under the bus and burn your relationship to the ground for the sake of winning. You’re worried — but you don’t show it. You can’t. If he knows you’re fearful, he’ll have the upper hand. So you feign indifference. After all, if there was one similarity between you and Jungkook, it was that you weren’t going to back down without a fight either. You were born a winner and it was going to stay that way. “And to make it more fair and maximize the amount of desserts we get to eat, over here we have Jeon Jungkook who will be making éclair. A pastry made with choux dough filled with cream and topped with chocolate icing. It is a specialty perfected by Y/N, an aspiring pâtisserie chef who dreams of running her own wedding cake catering services someday.” “Two very different dishes that the opposing member has a speciality in.” Taehyung continues to narrate and nods his head, inadvertently making Yuna giggle, “Who can make it better? You’ll be the judge of that.” It’s ridiculous, but you’re not going to cave in or surrender. Not when Jungkook’s ego was insurmountable and you’d never hear the end of it if you gave up. An hour and a half is put on the clock. Your counters parallel to one another while your friends are gathered at the other, ready to watch, eat their snacks and hang around. You momentarily wonder why you never have the privilege of relaxing like them. But you don’t think about it for too long. The moment Taehyung starts the time, you begin. You preheat the oven and begin buttering the ramekins. “How do you feel, Y/N?” Suddenly a whisk is thrusted in your face, almost puncturing your cheek. It’s a makeshift microphone that you push aside. “Fine.” “What are you doing now?” “What does it look like?” You push Taehyung aside, grabbing sugar to coat the dish. “Well alright then.” He laughs and slinks over to Jungkook’s side who’s humming underneath his breath. He’s much too casual as he finishes greasing a cookie sheet and moves to combine butter and water in a saucepan. “How about you, Jungkook?” “Never been better.” The side of his lip is curled. Jungkook’s black long sleeve is pushed up to his elbows to reveal his forearms, and one peek at him is enough to feel your blood boil. It’s obvious that he doesn’t see you as a threat whatsoever. “You think you’re going to win?” “Unfortunately, I do.” Jungkook plays along with Taehyung’s antics, head so far up in the clouds. “Why unfortunately?” “Well, it’s not everyday I want to crush my girlfriend, but sometimes I just have to.” Jungkook twists to you. “Sorry, babe.” You ignore him, too busy glancing at the label and dumping the chocolate into a small bowl with butter. In the meanwhile, Yoongi chews on his chips and scrutinizes. “Are you sure that’s the right kind?” “Fuck off, Yoongi.” It’s not like you haven’t done this before — you’re just not sure if yours can ever beat Jungkook’s. You whisk in the six egg yolks and add a pinch of sea salt until the melted mixture thickens. At the same time, Jungkook is singing under his breath, forming his pastry dough and piping it out onto his baking sheet. You don’t know how he works so fast, but you concentrate harder, ignoring Jimin asking Yuna if she likes the place so far, disregarding Yoongi’s snarky comments and Hoseok’s music that he turns on as background noise. Once you place egg whites and half a teaspoon of cream of tartar in the electric mixer to beat, you’re finally able to take a moment of relief. Jungkook is also at his mixer beating his heavy cream for the filing. “Nervous, babe?” You scoff at him. “As if.” “Alright then.” Jungkook smirks, almost as if he finds your snobbery endearing. You hate how he can see right through you, but you still maintain the facade anyhow. At this moment, he was your rival first and your boyfriend second. “It smells so good.” Yuna inhales. Aeri smiles at her. “That would be Jungkook's choux pastry in the oven.” “Who do you think is going to win?” Taehyung suddenly asks the high schooler, thrusting the whisk in front of her. She smiles gingerly. “I don’t know. Who do you think will win?” Taehyung hums and ignores the protest of his friend when he says— “I’ll put my money on Y/N.” “Want to bet on it then?” Yuna asks, lashes batting back and forth. “Loser takes the other person to dinner.” “What about you, Chim?” Taehyung immediately diverts his vision, pretending that he doesn’t hear her deal. He even disregards Aeri and Hoseok’s stunned expressions of Yuna’s forwardness. “Who do you think?” You add the sugar carefully, one tablespoon at a time until the egg whites hold glossy, stiff peaks. Then you’re gently folding the egg whites into your soufflé base until it’s a light and fluffy mixture ready to be put into the ramekins. But you know it’s too basic. It would never beat Jungkook’s. So in the midst of your inner hysteria, you sprinkle in a teaspoon of cinnamon and nutmeg. Yoongi, the only person who’s actually watching, quirks his brow but doesn’t say anything. The soufflés are popped into the oven and by then, Jungkook is still working. He’s letting his pastries cool on a rack, his filling already in a piping bag, and he’s busy making the icing. “How do you feel now, Y/N?” “The same.” You shrug. “I know I’m going to win, so…” Your boyfriend lifts his chin, a small smirk gracing his lips. “We’ll see about that.” “You aren’t intimidated whatsoever?” Taehyung asks. “I mean Jungkook’s soufflé was fucking deli—cious. It was like gooey on the inside and so soft, but really crispy on the outside and very, very chocolatey. It felt like an explosion of flavour—” “Alright.” You shut him up and move over to steal Yoongi’s bag of chips, much to his dismay. In the few minutes that you finally get to sit down and rest, you observe Jungkook. In spite of his arrogance, he’s working quite hard. You’re impressed he agreed to make éclairs in just an hour and a half since it usually takes two. But Jungkook works quickly, efficiently, and your eyes can’t help lingering on his exposed forearms, the furrow of his brows, the tip of his tongue peeking out of his pink lips. God. As competitive as you are, a part of you doesn’t even care who wins — you already feel like a winner. The beeping of your oven breaks you out of your daydream. “You should wipe off your saliva,” Yoongi mutters out of the corner of his mouth, knowing full well that you were ogling Jungkook in silence. You glare at the dark-haired man, a silent threat not to say anything lest it becomes clear you have other priorities other than winning. You take your soufflés out of the oven, breathing a sigh of relief when you see them. They all rose. A few with them have cracks and they’re not uniform whatsoever, but it’s more than you hoped for. The aroma of chocolate fills the room, making Yuna antsy in her seat. You begin dusting the top with powdered sugar. “Two minutes left, chefs,” Hoseok warns with a grin, peeking over at Taehyung’s timer. Jungkook is long finished piping his éclairs, already drizzled the chocolate icing over top of it and allowing them to set in the fridge. You step back from your counter as well. “I’m done.” “Same here.” “Finally!” Yuna is cheering. “Can we taste them now?” You’re the first to go since the soufflés are still piping hot. It’s six servings with Yuna receiving the first one since she’s the guest of honour. Then the rest are passed to Taehyung, Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok, Aeri. They dig in without hesitation and you watch with your breath hitched. “It’s really good,” Hoseok says, chewing in his cheek. “I like it a lot.” Aeri smiles. “You did a good job, Y/N.” “Thanks.” Even if you don’t win, you feel great at your attempt. Yuna hisses when it burns her tongue and she hums after letting it cool. There doesn’t seem to be any complaints from anyone. “The top can be crustier. It’s baked well through though,” Yoongi notes pompously after sniffing his spoonful for the past minute to take in the scent. “Not half bad.” “But is it better than Jungkook’s?” Taehyung asks. It’s silent. No one can give a blatant answer. Jungkook is appalled that they even need to think about it. “Give me that.” He grabs Jimin’s and takes a spoonful. Jungkook bites, chews, and his brows furrow. “What...is that? There's something in there that’s weird. Like the aftertaste is off.” In hindsight, cinnamon and nutmeg probably wasn’t the best idea. But you don’t say anything and you plop your hand on Yoongi’s shoulder as an implicit warning not to speak about it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” It’s your turn to take a taste and the moment it hits your tongue, you know the outcome. It’s miles and miles away from Jungkook’s standards. Your soufflé is good, but not crying-worthy. It doesn’t bring tears to your eyes and make you remember your mother’s home cooking, how you gathered around the table for dessert during warm holidays. The situation only gets shittier when you take a taste of Jungkook’s éclair. The custard is tangy and smooth, pastry crispy and buttery, chocolate icing sweet at all the right places. And all you can think is — what. the. fuck. This guy had to have a cheat code for life. There’s no way he can be so good at everything he does. It’s impossible. It’s unbelievable. It’s unfair. “What do you think?” Jungkook stares at you in particular, trying to gauge your reaction. You swallow hard, managing a half-hearted shrug. “It’s decent.” It’s clear with his smile he can see you’re trying to hide your true feelings. “Want me to save you seconds?” “I’m fine.” You wave your hand at him, despite your heart saying otherwise. It causes Jungkook to chuckle, but he doesn’t push to spare your pride. It’s hard to tell if his éclair is better than yours — but the mere fact that Jungkook hadn’t even had time to perfect his recipe or practice yet made it this good has your knees weak. You’re glad you don’t have him as your competition on a daily basis anymore. “This is pretty good,” Yuna admits, licking off her fingers. Yoongi seems to be enjoying it as well, eating quietly as he studies it. Hoseok is making noises at the back of his throat and Taehyung nods in approval. “Have you only made this once before?” Jimin asks. “Once or twice. Can’t remember.” Jungkook grins and that’s even more impressive. You’re conflicted of being proud of having such a talented boyfriend and being spiteful of him as a rival. Eventually, Taehyung dismisses the two of you for the rest of them to ‘deliberate’ and judge. You step out into the hallway and Jungkook throws his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close. “Don’t be too sad when you lose, babe. I’ll comfort you with my golden trophy.” “There is no trophy.” “Hmmm, how about a kiss then?” His nose bumps against you, smiling wide. You feign a pout. “I’ll think about it.” “Alright, love birds.” Taehyung pokes his head out of the door in less than two minutes. “We’ve made our decision.” You gather back together again. All of them are pretending to be very experienced pâtisserie chefs with decades of experience. It’s both an amusing and lame sight — but you don’t comment in case they decide to deduct your points and Jimin grins, reading off the paper he has in front of him. “Y/N, your chocolate soufflé was very moist and delectable. It had the perfect amount of sweetness. We found your techniques to be very competent and proficient. The presentation was great. The texture was very soft and the flavour was very deep. The aftertaste, on the other hand, was unique and different. It caused many to continue tasting to pinpoint what it was. You obviously accomplished what you set out to do and you made a very tasty dessert.” Jimin clears his throat. “And Jungkook, your éclair was alright.” “Y/N wins,” Yuna announces with giddy laughter, arms in the air. “Wait.” Jungkook frowns. “What?” “Me?” You point to yourself, starting to laugh. “I won!” “It was a consensus,” Taehyung spits in the midst of giggles. “This is obviously rigged!” Jungkook protests loudly. “Don’t be a sore loser.” Hoseok shouts and the rest ignore his outcry. Yoongi nods in approval. “Congratulations, Y/N.” You put your hand over your heart. “Thank you.” You didn’t plan this — maybe they were sick of Jungkook’s ego too or maybe they just thought it would be hilarious to see his reaction, but whatever the case may be, you’re glad that they have your back. You lean over to your boyfriend, giving a brief peck on his pouting lips. “This is so rigged,” he mutters, less upset after your kiss. You smile at him and quirk your head to the side. “Life’s rigged, sweetheart. But tell me, how does it feel to be in a relationship with the best chocolatier on Earth?” Jungkook scoffs, a grin spreads into his face. // Informal baking competitions are all fun and games, but it’s not so much at the end when there’s a mountain of dishes to wash in the sink and a whole kitchen to clean. The others have long left after satisfying their sweet tooths, so you and Jungkook have been hard at work yet again. But in the midst of wiping down the counters, your eyes stray to Jungkook’s pastries. He’s stepped out for a moment, so you take the opportunity swiftly by its throat. You lurch across the floor and grab an éclair to eat. But as you’re stuffing your face as fast as you can while relishing in the deliciousness, you don’t notice the man creeping up on you. “Having those seconds, huh?” You’re scared shitless, jolting, and you whirl around to see Jungkook with his shit eating grin that just screams ‘I knew it’. You’ve been caught in the act. There’s no denying it now. All you can do is swallow your mouthful. “So you liked it that much? You should’ve just admitted it from the start, Y/N. You know I can read you like an open book—” You grab Jungkook by the back of his neck and pull him in for a smothering kiss, just to shut him up. It’s a slow kiss, one where he cleans the cream off your lips and tastes the sugar on your tongue. It’s ambiguous who the real winner is. When you pull apart, you know you both feel like it. “Happy?” Jungkook laughs, nose scrunched and eyes crinkled. “Very.”

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook series #MORE FLUFF INCOMING

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sinceileftyoublog · 4 years ago

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30 (Technically 34) Albums We Loved That Happened To Come Out in 2020

So much has already been said and written about this cursed past year, but a few good things came out of it, including the music. Album-wise, like many before it and many to come, it was an embarrassment of riches. But even with so much time on our hands to devour new tunes, it was often old favorites, songs of comfort or familiarity that garnered the heaviest rotation. For many artists, too, it was a year ripe for revisiting or reissues of old material, looking at existing songs with fresh and new perspectives. Simply put, with so much to listen to, new and old, the prospect of ranking a finite number of albums felt not only daunting, but frankly a bit stupid. Maybe we were late to the game, but 2020 taught us that music should and can be appreciated in multiple contexts, not limited to but including when it first came out and when it was heard again and again, even if years later. The records below--listed in alphabetical order--happened to be released in some form in 2020, whether never-before-heard or heard before but in a different format. And the only thing I know is that we’ll be listening to them in 2021 and beyond.

Autechre - SIGN & PLUS (Warp)

The legendary British electronic music duo surprise released SIGN a mere month and a half after its announcement and then PLUS 12 days later. The former was a beatific collection of soundscapes that belied the band’s usual harsh noise, while PLUS embraced that noise right back, drawing you in with the clattering chaotic burbles of opener “DekDre Scap B” and lurching forward. -Jordan Mainzer

Against All Logic - 2017-2019 (Other People)

The perennially chill ambient house artist Nicolas Jaar had a busy 2020, as usual, releasing two albums under his name, Cenizas and Telas. But it was 2017-2019, the follow-up to the debut album from his Against All Logic moniker, that came first and throughout the year helped to illustrate Jaar’s penchant for combining inspired samples with club beats and tape hiss. Take the way the lovelorn vocals of “Fantasy” or soulful coos of “If Loving You Is Wrong” war skittering, scratchy percussion and cool arpeggios, respectively: Jaar is coming into his own as a masterful producer almost a decade after he released his first full-length. Oh, and bonus points for including none other than Lydia Lunch on a banger so blunt it would make Death Grips blush. - JM

Bartees Strange - Live Forever (Memory Music)

Like many, my introduction to Bartees Strange was through Say Goodbye to Pretty Boy, his EP of The National covers. Creativity and shifting perspectives shine through each song’s reimaging, like flipping the coarse, almost manic “Mr. November” into something softer, more meditative. It felt like a mere peek into what was to come on Live Forever. Bartees Strange is a world-builder. Each track on his debut unfolds and welcomes you to a wildly engaging tableau, a fully constructed vision. “Jealousy” opens with soft vocals and birdsong. “In a Cab” is the slick soundtrack to racing through a cityscape in the rain, seeing the blurred lights of the high-rises above as you pass by. “Kelly Rowland” warps wistful pop song feelings. “Flagey God” takes you into a dark, pulsing club while only a few songs later, “Fallen For You” wraps you in echoed vocals and romantic, raw acoustic guitar.

It’s an accomplishment to craft an album of individual songs that stand strongly on their own but still feel cohesive. 2020 wasn’t all bad. It gave us Live Forever, a declaration of an artist’s arrival. - Lauren Lederman

Charli XCX - how i’m feeling now (Atlantic)

Back in the spring, many of us wondered who would put out something great in 2020’s quarantine. It was hard to imagine that the intensity of a global pandemic would really allow for artists to embrace creativity. That thought carries the same eye-roll inducing feeling of “We’ll get some great punk music out of a Trump presidency,” but of course, Charli XCX delivered. Through live workshops with fans and longstanding collaborators, she delivered songs to dance alone to in your bubble. Charli embraces the unknown of the moment but clutches onto what’s familiar. Under the glitch-pop veneer of the album, she digs into the anxieties of not just this moment of time but of the bigger questions we all confront: trajectories of relationships with friends, romantic partners, ourselves. Album standouts “forever” and “i finally understand” embrace that feeling of both looking for control and accepting the lack of it. Charli is a master at balancing this. - LL

Christine and the Queens - La Vita Nuova (Because Music)

Named after a Latin text by Dante Alighieri about missing a woman who has died, Chris’ La Vita Nuova is not about mourning a death but instead about loneliness and isolation, post-relationship or otherwise. It doesn’t bang quite like her previous two albums, but it hits harder than ever.

Read our full review here.

Dogleg - Melee (Triple Crown)

Released on March 13th, right as the COVID-19 pandemic hit, Melee was supposed to be supported by three cancelled tours–SXSW, an opening slot for Microwave, and an opening slot for Joyce Manor–and an appearance at this year’s cancelled Pitchfork Music Festival. Listening to the songs on the record, you can only imagine how they translate: the jerky momentum of “Bueno”, build-up of “Prom Hell”, gang vocals of “Fox”, clear-vocal anthem of “Wrist”, and odd groove of “Ender”.

Read “Buckle Up, Motherfucker”, our interview with Dogleg.

Dua Lipa - Future Nostalgia & Dua Lipa/The Blessed Madonna: Club Future Nostalgia (Warner)

Where Dua Lipa’s much-anticipated second album Future Nostalgia succeeded was in its disco anthems and retro, club-ready beats, so who better to bring out the best of the record than The Blessed Madonna? The turntablist masterfully curates a mix of heavy hitters of the charts and the underground that not only offers an essential complement to Future Nostalgia but transcends it. Sending the tracks out to various producers and singers for features and then adding her own samples on top, she invites you to peel back the layers, enter a YouTube rabbit hole of sample searching as much as bopping along.

Read our full review here.

Emma Ruth Rundle & Thou - May Our Chambers Be Full (Sacred Bones)

Roadburn Festival has long been on my bucket list, and since the pandemic showed me how much live music can be taken away in a flash, when it’s safe again to travel and go to a festival, I may just pull the trigger and go--especially considering it’s the springboard for such fruitful and inspired collaborations as the one between Louisville singer-songwriter Emma Ruth Rundle and Baton Rouge sludge dwellers Thou. Rundle embraces the heavier opportunities on the follow-up to her incredible 2018 record On Dark Horses with the ever-flexible Thou backing her up vocally and instrumentally. Slow-burning opener “Killing Floor” offers a familiar introduction to fans of both--sort of what a Rundle/Thou song would sound like--before grunge chugger “Monolith” introduces huge, catchy riffs and “Out of Existence” a True Widow-esque dirge, newfound inspirations for both artists bringing the best out of each other. - JM

Fiona Apple - Fetch the Bolt Cutters (Epic)

What makes Fetch the Bolt Cutters stand out among Apple’s catalog and music in general is the clarity with which Apple seethes at those who have wronged her, whether ex-boyfriends or patriarchal oppressors, and looks to her relationships with other women for peace of mind.

Read our full review here.

HAIM - Women in Music Pt. III (Columbia)

For HAIM, the title Women in Music Pt. III is suggestive that, more than their previous two records, their third centers around the experiences of being an all-female band in a historically white cis male-dominated scene, at least one that wouldn’t call catchy riffs written by a man “simple” or call attention to the faces a man makes while playing. What it doesn’t let on to is how deeply personal the record is, how, by unabashedly embracing genres and styles of music that they love, HAIM have made far and away their best album. Co-produced by the usual suspects, Danielle Haim, Ariel Rechtshaid, and ex-Vampire Weekender Rostam Batmanglij, it’s instrumentally and aesthetically dynamic and diverse, consistently earnest without devolving into cheese.

Read our full review here.

Irreversible Entanglements - Who Sent You? (International Anthem)

I’ve been captivated by Irreversible Entanglements ever since I first saw them at Pitchfork Music Festival 2018. The radical poetry of Camae Ayewa (aka Moor Mother) is the perfect front for a ramshackle mix of Luke Stewart’s spidery bass, Tcheser Holmes’ weighty drums, and a horn section that concocts tones that range from hopeful to desperate. At their best, Who Sent You? is a shining example of celebratory Afrofuturism and metaphysics that makes the urgency of Ayewa’s more concrete and political words all the more necessary. “No Más”, composed by Panamanian-born trumpeter Aquiles Navarro, is a declaration against imperialist oppression, while the stunning title track flips the switch like a Kara Walker painting, as Ayewa’s the one interrogating the police officer terrorizing her community. “Who sent you?” she repeats, never spiraling, grabbing a hold of the power and never letting go. - JM

Jeff Parker - Suite for Max Brown (International Anthem/Nonesuch)

It’s Jeff Parker’s mom’s turn. After 2016′s The New Breed ended up being a tribute to the guitarist’s father, who passed away during the making of it, Parker decided to pay tribute to Maxine while she was still alive. Suite for Max Brown (Brown is his mother’s maiden name; Max is what people call her) is a genre-bending collection of tracks inspired by Parker’s DJing, juxtapositions of sequenced beats with improvisation that certainly sound like the brainchild of one individual. Indeed, Parker plays the majority of the instruments on it and engineered most of it at home or during his 2018 Headlands Center residency in Sausalito, CA; though all of the players and the vocalist (Jeff’s daughter Ruby Parker) on The New Breed show up, plus a couple trumpeters (piccolo player Rob Mazurek and Nate Walcott of Bright Eyes) and cellist Katinka Kleijn, Suite for Max Brown is a distinctly Jeff Parker record.

Read our preview of Jeff Parker & The New Breed’s set at Dorian’s last year.

Jeff Rosenstock - NO DREAM (Polyvinyl)

Jeff Rosenstock throws us right into the spinning, manic energy of NO DREAM, his latest release from a seemingly endless well of music that never lacks urgency. It’s a reminder that though it’s been a strange year, the issues Rosenstock tackles here aren’t new. There’s no interest in making you feel comfortable here. On the album’s title track, Rosenstock sings, lulling you into a false sense of security, “They were separating families carelessly / Under the guise of protecting you and me.” But reality sets in, and the hazy guitars spin out as he spits, “It’s not a dream!” and, “Fuck violence!”

My image of Jeff Rosenstock in the year 2020 is masked up with “Black Lives Matter” scrawled across the fabric of his mask in Sharpie, performing album highlight “Scram!” on Late Night with Seth Meyers as high energy as ever. It felt like watching someone send out a beacon, both a distress signal and a call to arms. - LL

Jessie Ware - What’s Your Pleasure? (PMR/Friends Keep Secrets/Interscope)

I am not someone who goes to clubs. I don’t “go out dancing,” preferring to let loose in the privacy of my own home or a trusted friend’s house party. But Jessie Ware’s What’s Your Pleasure? makes me think I could embrace a night out like that, once the world opens up again, of course. The album is filled with syncopated disco beats that feel fresh and classic all at once. The abundant horns and strings on “Step Into My Life” are decadent, like light bouncing off sequins in a dark room. Ware’s voice is slinky and velvety one moment, windswept like her album cover the next. It’s songs like “Save a Kiss” that embrace both, allowing her to show off her range. - LL

Laura Marling - Song for Our Daughter (Partisan)

With sparse production, mostly from her but with additions from Ethan Johns and Dom Monks, Marling foregoes the comparative maximalism of the Blake Mills-produced Semper Femina, her last proper full-length, and 2018′s LUMP collaboration. The songs aren’t simple, but they’re succinct, and every element, from Marling’s finger-picked guitars, the occasional slide guitar, and that unmistakably calm voice, sometimes alone and sometimes layered, fits. It’s her most universal set of songs yet, centering around the times when we’re apart from one another but reflecting on when we were together and when we might be together again, with no guarantees.

Read the rest of our review here.

Les Amazones d’Afrique - Amazones Power (Real World Records)

The groovy pan-African collective expands upon their debut Republique Amazone and then some with Amazones Power, a tour-de-force statement of female empowerment in the face of oppression against women throughout the African diaspora. Indeed, the album is more than just songs boldly decrying FGM, though those demands ring heavily. Instead, the group goes further, delving into gender power structures in marriage on “Queens” and selectively finding strength in tradition on “Dreams”. And this time, they include men to stand alongside with them. “Together we must stand / Together we must end this,” sings Guinean musician/dancer/artist Niariu on opener “Heavy” in solidarity with features Douranne (Boy) Fall and Magueye Diouk (Jon Grace) of Paris band Nyoko Bokbae. But perhaps it’s her kiss-off on “Smile” that hits hardest: “I shut up for no one.” - JM

Lianne La Havas - Lianne La Havas (Nonesuch)

The British singer-songwriter’s much anticipated follow-up to 2015′s Blood was better than I could have ever imagined. A song cycle about life cycles--of nature, of lives, of a relationship--inspired by an actual breakup, Lianne La Havas is a contemporary neo soul masterpiece. Overview opener “Bittersweet” is an instant earworm, La Havas’ coo-turned-belt filling the space between classic and increasingly emotive slabs of piano and guitar. Funky, lovestruck strut “Read My Mind” is the soundtrack for the unbridled confidence of finding new love. Yes, the doubts begin to sow on the fingerpicked melancholy of “Green Papaya” and “Can’t Fight”, and where the album goes from a simple narrative perspective may be predictable: They break up, they don’t get back together, La Havas enjoys her independence. But the depth of the arrangements and assuredness of La Havas’ singing is a product of an artist starting to really show us what she can do. And how many people can pull off a Radiohead cover like that? - JM

Lomelda - Hannah (Double Double Whammy)

What does it mean to title an album after yourself? Lomelda’s latest album is centered around discovering more about yourself while not always having the answers. Despite the lyrical content, the album is self-assured. Hannah Read’s voice feels as steady as ever as it navigates these twisting questions, like the way the world can shift after a kiss. She finds power in softness and reflection throughout the album, like when she explores the mantra-like words of “Wonder” or through a reminder to do no harm in “Hannah Sun”. In a year that allowed for perhaps more reflection than usual, Hannah makes space for the questions that arise out of figuring yourself out, of making sense of the messiness of it all, wrapped in warm guitar, balanced vocals, and steady drums. - LL

Moses Sumney - Grae (Jagjaguwar)

“Am I vital / If my heart is idle? / Am I doomed?” Moses Sumney famously sang on his stunning 2017 debut Aromanticism, an album that saw him developing his acceptance of being alone. grae, his two-part 2nd full-length, and his first since officially moving from L.A. to the Appalachian Mountains of Asheville, North Carolina, doubles down on themes of heartbreak, but instead of being sure in his seclusion, he embraces the unknown. The album teeters between interludes of platitudes about isolation and ruminations on failed human connection, and maximally arranged clutches of uncertainty. “When my mind’s clouded and filled with doubt / That’s when I feel the most alive,” Sumney coos over horns and piano on slinky soul song “Cut Me”; it’s an effective mantra for the album.

Read the rest of our review here.

Norah Jones - Pick Me Up Off The Floor (Blue Note)

At the time we previewed Norah Jones’ 7th studio album, she had only released a few tracks from it. Turns out the rest was just as powerful. From the blues stomp of “Flame Twin” to the rolling piano stylings of “Hurts to Be Alone”, Pick Me Up Off The Floor is an album full of jazzy orchestrations and soul and gospel-indebted arrangements, Jones’ silky, yearning voice tying together the simple, yet lush and deep instrumentation. And that other Tweedy feature, that closes the album? It’s a heartbreaking portrait of loneliness, one of many on a record that still manages to celebrate being alive all the while. - JM

Phoebe Bridgers - Punisher (Dead Oceans)

Phoebe Bridgers is a master of details. Her lyrics shine when they get specific. They range from the mundane to morbid: A superfan’s ghost-like wandering under a drugstore’s fluorescent lights, a skinhead likely buried under a blooming garden, reckoning with the you in “Moon Song”’s lines, “You are sick, and you’re married / And you might be dying.” Bridgers has always been able to set a scene meticulously, and Punisher arrived with 11 songs that expanded that skill, both lyrically and musically, with her dark humor intact and a fuller sound that includes her boygenuis collaborators’ harmonies. - LL

PJ Harvey - To Bring You My Love: The Demos & Dry - The Demos (Island)

Yes, revisiting Dry’s demos as a separate entity is still worthwhile. Harvey’s powerhouse vocal performance carries the acoustic strummed “Oh My Lover”, while the comparatively minimal arrangement of “Victory” highlights bluesy riffing, call-and-response harmonies, and layered guitar and vocals. The singles, the slinky and sharp “Dress” and propulsive anthem “Sheela-Na-Gig”, hold up to their ultimate studio versions, too. But it’s the To Bring You My Love material that provides novelty because it’s never been released and more so because it encompasses the greatest aesthetic contrast from the album. From the warbling hues and guitar lines of the title track to the tremolo haze of “Teclo” to the crisp snares of “Working With The Man”, the demos show a continuity and level of cohesiveness with the diversity of Dry and Rid of Me not shown on the studio version of Harvey’s more accessible commercial breakout. (Predictably, the album’s most well-known song, “Down by the Water”, is the closest to its eventual version.) “Long Snake Moan” is simultaneously more spacious and more noisy, its garage blues a total contrast to the lurking “I Think I’m A Mother” and swaying shanty “Send His Love To Me”. And “The Dancer” fully embraces its flamenco influences, hand claps and all.

Porridge Radio - Every Bad (Secretly Canadian)

Is there a better opening line than “I’m bored to death, let’s argue”? That kind of duality is found across all of Every Bad as it grapples with the frustrations and anxiety of trying to figure it all out, whatever that might mean for you. “Maybe I was born confused, but I’m not,” vocalist Dana Margolin repeats throughout the opening track, roping in listeners with the dizzying feeling of trying to make sense of yourself. The band’s guitar and synth sound coupled with Margolin’s howl makes for a dance party filled with dread, rendering Margolin’s already strong, repetitive lyrics even more spiraling. And yet, by the time we get to “Lilacs”, a glimmer of something else shines through as the music gets more manic and Margolin’s voice begins to soar: “I don’t want to get bitter / I want us to get better / I want us to be kinder / To ourselves and to each other.” - LL

Sault - Untitled (Rise) & Untitled (Black Is) (Forever Living Originals)

Yes, Black Is still pulls plenty of devastating punches. “Eternal Life”, a segue from the gospel boost of “US”, juxtaposes a deliberate drum beat with zooming synths, both ascending like a chorus of angels, as they sing, “I see sadness in your eye / ‘Cause I know you don’t wanna die,” presenting the oppression of Black life at the hands of white supremacy in inarguable terms. Ultimately, though, it’s the anthemic nature of the songs, resistant of platitudes, that shines through. “Nobody cared / This generation cares,” says Laurette Josiah on “This Generation”. Whether she’s talking about young people in general or the latest generation of young Black leaders, the sentiment is reflected on songs like “Black”, wherein over dynamic, sinewy instrumentation, the singers alternate between encouragement, support, and love of the self and others.

Read our full review here.

Shamir - Shamir (self-released)

Shamir’s voice is a bright beacon in a sea of conventional singers. Shamir captures the effervescence of pop music and weaves it together with elements of country, alt rock, and diary confessional lyrics all supported by the emotion and range of his vocals. There’s something for everyone across the album’s 11 shimmering tracks. Lead single and opener “On My Own” feels like a declaration of self and self-sufficiency, an anthem of a breakup song. The almost pop-punk bounce of “Pretty When I’m Sad”, paired perfectly with lines like the angst-ridden, “Let’s fuck around inside each other’s heads,” feels impossible to not bop along to. The twang of “Other Side” would put a country crooner to shame. That’s the power of Shamir. His voice has the ability to smoothly convey joy, resilience, and humor. He uses elements of several genres, not just the dance-pop of his debut, to build a unique album that gives listeners so much to sift through and, of course, dance to. - LL

Songhoy Blues - Optimisme (Fat Possum)

If Songhoy Blues’ second album Resistance lacked “the grit of its predecessor,” it’s clear from the hard rock stomp of the opening track of Malian band’s third album Optimisme that they rediscovered their mojo. More importantly, they couple this maximal brashness with tributes to those who make their world a better place: fighters for freedom, women, the young. It’s perhaps the first Songhoy Blues record to truly combine the celebratory nature of their desert blues with a balanced mixture of idealism and vigor. - JM

Spanish Love Songs - Brave Faces Everyone (Pure Noise)

How can you find hope in hopelessness, or optimism when every news story points to cruelty? Is it naïve to keep searching for light in the dark? I don’t think so, and I don’t think Spanish Love Songs does, either. I’d like to think we both believe that’s not naivety, but power. It’s the embers you need to really ignite a flame. After all, this is the band with a song titled “Optimism (As a Radical Life Choice)”. It’s a band whose crunching guitars and earnestness insist that despite death and depression and addiction, the instinct to survive shines brightly above all. That relentless hope resurfaces across Brave Faces Everyone’s 10 tracks even as it works through the bleakness of everyday life. - LL

Tashi Dorji - Stateless (Drag City)

The magnum opus from the Asheville-based picker is a group of evocatively titled, disorderly songs about the desolate hellscape of America for outsiders and immigrants. Enigmatic in its nature, not exactly narrative, Stateless combines Dorji’s urgent strumming with moody motifs, captured beautifully in a studio setting for maximum emotional wallop. - JM

Touche Amore - Lament (Epitaph)

Is this what an almost uplifting Touche Amore album sounds like? It’s cathartic in a newer way for the band, especially after the beautifully rendered grief of Stage Four. Lament loses none of the band’s aggression or urgency. “Come Heroine” thrusts listeners into that urgency and introduces a moment of warmth, Jeremy Bolm’s vocals still rasping and insistent: “You brought me in / You took to me / And reversed the atrophy.” The bounciness of “Reminders” may seem close to optimism, but a sharper look at the lyrics uncovers more than blindly looking to the things that bring joy. “I’ll Be Your Host” is reflective, a few years removed from Touche Amore’s previous album and the immediacy of loss, self-aware and growing, but still raw. The album closer, “A Forecast”, takes a turn, a lone voice and piano acting as a confessional before giving way to thrashing guitars and the realization that growth and reckoning with trauma doesn’t mean minimizing it. It means learning to keep moving forward and to stop for help when you may need it. - LL

Waxahatchee - Saint Cloud (Merge)

The best album yet from Katie Crutchfield is inspired by positive personal change (getting sober, dealing with codependency issues, her blossoming love with singer-songwriter Kevin Morby) and reflections on family and friends. Named after the suburb of Orlando where her father’s from, Saint Cloud is a genre-hopping collection of stories and feelings that doesn’t necessarily follow any semblance of narrative. On opener “Oxbow” and country-tinged ditty “Can’t Do Much”, Crutchfield’s increasingly aware of the need to pick your side and your battles, whether in the relationship between two people or between the allure of the bottle and the next-day hangover. Some of the best songs on the album see her finding commonalities with others as a means towards self-love. Gentle strummer “The Eye” refers to her natural creative relationships with Morby and her sister Allison. “War” she wrote for herself and best friend, who is also sober, the title a metaphor for one’s fight to remain substance-free. “Witches” is an ode to her best friends, including Allison and Snail Mail’s Lindsey Jordan, all equally frustrated by the toxic nature of the music industry and the world at large, ultimately lifting each other up because they simply have each other.

Read our full review here.

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themetaphorgirl · 5 years ago

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I wrote this drabble earlier about Spencer spraining his ankle while Emily was supposed to be in charge

so here’s part 2!!!

once again. it’s a lot longer than I planned. I hope you like it though!!

(more about the boarding school babes)

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Spencer wrapped his arms tighter around Hotch’s neck and rested his chin on his shoulder. It was a long haul to get up to the seventh floor, and even though he was still attempting to prove to the older kids that he wasn’t a baby, he was grateful that he didn’t have to walk it. And if he was being truthful, he was glad that Hotch was carrying him instead of Emily. He loved Emily, he did, but Hotch was a lot stronger and bigger, and a lot less likely to drop him.

“Listen, Hotch, it was just an accident,” Emily pleaded, trailing behind them on the stairs.

Hotch pressed his hand against Spencer’s narrow back. “I don’t care if it was an accident, Prentiss, it was stupid,” he said sharply. “Stupid and childish. You’re seven years older than him, you should fucking know better.”

He couldn’t quite see Emily’s expression, but she slowed her pace, falling far back behind them. “Hotch, she didn’t do it on purpose,” he said quietly. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have done it.”

“We’ll talk about you later,” Hotch said. Spencer bit back a sigh.

Alex was pacing in the seventh floor common room, her arms folded over her chest, still wearing the nice blue dress she’d worn for the senior’s seminar. “Oh my god,” she said, her arms dropping to her sides. “Spencer, are you okay?”

“It could be worse,” he offered.

“That’s not reassuring.”

Hotch set him gently down on the couch, careful around his injured ankle. “It’s a bad sprain, but it’s not broken,” he said.

“He hit the ground so hard,” Derek said.

“Yeah, I definitely heard a crack,” Penelope added.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” Alex said. “How bad does it hurt?”

He shrugged. “Not too much,” he said, offering her what he hoped was a winning smile.

Her eyes narrowed. “Really?”

“Uh-huh,” he said.

Alex made a face at him and started signing instead. Are you lying to me?

He squirmed and signed back a no.

Be honest, she signed. How bad?

Spencer sighed heavily. An eight, maybe?

His ankle really did hurt, the numbness from adrenaline long worn off, but he didn’t want to say anything that might make Emily feel bad. But he’d learned the hard way that it was impossible to lie to Alex; she was the only one who could see right through him every time.

Alex’s expression softened. “I’m sure you’ll feel better soon,” she said, smoothing his hair back. “But you have to rest, okay? Actually rest. No getting up and walking around and saying you’re fine when you’re not.”

Hotch tossed Spencer’s favorite blanket at him. “What she said,” he said. “You’re not moving until classes on Monday morning. And even then, if you’re not doing better, you’re not going to class.”

“But I have a history paper due Monday!” he protested.

“I’ll stop by your class and turn it in for you,” JJ offered.

“See? There you go,” Derek said. “And we’ll pick up all your homework for you.”

“I’ll be able to go to classes on Monday, I know it,” he said.

“Rest first, then we’ll see,” she said. “Don’t pout.”

“I’m not pouting,” he said, his lower lip dropping.

Hotch tapped his chin. “Stop that,” he said. He propped his injured ankle up on a pillow and draped an ice pack over it. “These are the consequences of your reckless actions. Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes,” he grumbled.

“It wasn’t his fault, I...I kept teasing him,” Emily said.

Alex didn’t answer her. “Did they give you ibuprofen or anything at the infirmary?” she asked.

“Yeah, and I can take more in a couple of hours,” he said.

Penelope leaned over the back of the couch. “It’s my turn to pick for movie night, but do you want to pick, Spencer?” she asked.

“No, don’t let him pick again!” Derek said. “I am not in the mood for Star Wars.”

“I don’t always pick Star Wars!” Spencer said. “Besides, there’s eleven films and a holiday special to choose from. That’s a lot of variety, right? More if you include the two Ewok films.”

“Spencer, don’t you dare make us watch the holiday special again.”

“Fine,” he said. “I want to watch Singin’ in the Rain.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I thought if Penelope wasn’t gonna pick, I wouldn’t have to watch a musical,” he said. JJ smacked his arm. “Hey!”

“All right, all right, cut it out,” Hotch said. “Who’s getting snacks tonight?”

“I’ll order pizza,” Emily offered. “It’s been a while since we’ve done that.”

Derek pumped his fists in the air. “Yes! Okay, I have some requests,” he said.

The other kids immediately started squabbling about pizza toppings. Spencer reached out and tugged lightly on Alex’s skirt. She turned around in confusion before looking down at him. “What’s wrong, Spence?” she asked.

“Can you sit with me?” he asked quietly.

She blinked, a little puzzled. “Of course I can,” she said. She tilted her head to the side. “Are you all right? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No, I’m okay, I just…” He gave up midsentence and shrugged. He wasn’t sure how to put it into words. But Alex seemed to understand. She sat down on the couch beside him and he leaned against her shoulder, huddling under her arm.

“Okay, you guys, enough! Stop fighting!” Hotch said. He picked up JJ around her waist and forcibly moved her away from Derek and Penelope. “We’re going to get what we usually get. Derek, if you really want that abomination of a pizza that badly, you can pay Emily back for it yourself.”

“No, it’s fine, you guys get whatever you want,” Emily said.

“Well, in that case, I-”

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose. “Somebody just put in the movie, okay?” he said.

“I got it, I got it,” JJ said.

Spencer shifted around, trying to get comfortable as she started the movie. Even without an eidetic memory, he could probably recite the whole thing backwards and forwards. It was one of the movies his mother had on constant rotation when he was little, background noise while she graded papers- so, overall, mostly good memories.

By the time pizza got there he was actually hungry- unlike lunchtime, when he was so focused on keeping his hurt ankle a secret that he couldn’t possibly eat. JJ brought him his plate, and Hotch took off the mostly-melted icepacks to check if the swelling had gone down at all (t hadn’t, and purple bruising had crept above the line of the bandages) and gave him more ibuprofen and a glass of water with strict instructions to drink all of it.

When the first movie was over, he let Penelope choose the second one, which turned into another squabble, but eventually she picked something else. He watched quietly, still leaning against Alex. Every so often he flexed his left foot, trying to see how much effort it took to move his ankle.

Alex tapped his knee. “Stop that,” she chided gently.

“I’m just testing it,” he said.

“You’re not a science experiment. Stop trying to see how much it hurts.”

“I��m okay.”

She lifted him onto her lap. “Nope, no more,” she said. “Sit still.”

“I’m not a baby,” he protested as he tucked his cheek against her shoulder.

Alex wrapped her arms around him. “I know you’re not a baby,” she said. “Now what did I say about resting?”

Spencer obeyed, curling up against her and hugging his blanket to his chest. He had gone a long, long time without anyone willing or able to take care of him- or allowing anyone to take care of him, for that matter. It was kind of nice to have his friends fuss over him. And Alex cuddled him without making a big fuss about it, or making him feel stupid or childish.

He was almost asleep by the time the second movie finished, his breathing deep and slow and his head resting heavily on Alex’s shoulder. But he was still awake enough to hear Hotch whisper-scold the other kids as he switched off the TV, telling them it was late and they needed to go to bed but they better not wake Spencer.

“Emily, wait here for a second,” Alex called softly.

Spencer kept feigning sleep as the other kids filed out of the common room and Emily sat down heavily on the other end of the couch. “All right, Miller,” she said. “Go ahead. Tear me a new one. This is all my fault.”

“No, I’m not going to tear you a new one,” Alex said. “You’ve been beating yourself up all day already, I’m not going to make it worse.”

“God, can you just not be so perceptive for once?” Emily said. “Just yell at me and get it over with.”

“I’m not going to yell. I don’t want to startle Spencer,” Alex said. Emily snorted. “And besides, I don’t want to yell at you.”

Emily groaned. “I deserve to be yelled at,” she said glumly. “Hotch is right, I should have known better.”

“I mean...yeah, technically,” Alex said. She ran her hand lightly up and down Spencer’s back. “But...okay. This is going to be kind of blunt. When have you ever had someone to be responsible for? Somebody to care about?”

Emily was quiet for a moment. “Well, I mean...my mom…”

“Emily. I’ve heard you talk about your mom. You call her the Ambassador. She enrolled you in first year French because she didn’t remember you were fluent. She makes you call her every Sunday, but half the time it goes to voicemail because she’s busy.”

A longer silence. “All right, so my mom isn’t the best,” Emily said. “What does that have to do with me being an idiot and getting Spencer hurt?”

“My point is that you’ve never had to worry about anybody but yourself before,” Alex said. “You’re a good person, Emily, you’re a really good person. And I know you care a whole lot about all of us. You’ve just never had to learn how to take care of anybody.”

“Okay, now you’ve passed regular perceptive and into super perceptive,” Emily said, but Spencer could hear the hint of a smile in her voice. “Yeah, I guess...I guess you’re not wrong. I hadn’t thought about that before.”

“You’re getting there, though,” Alex said. “I mean, you were the one who took care of Spencer when he got hurt, before you could hand him off to us.”

“That’s true.”

“And in the meantime, you don’t have to be so tough and pretend like you don’t care about anything. You don’t have to act like nothing bothers you.”

“Nothing does bother me, Alexandra, what are you talking about?” Emily teased. Alex poked her in the side. “All right, all right, fine. Jesus. I guess you’re right, at least about some of that.”

“I’m right sometimes, about some things,” Alex laughed. “And besides, let’s be real. All of these kids are kind of a handful. Especially this kid. This could have happened with any of us in charge.”

“I haven’t spent any time with a ten-year-old before Spencer,” Emily said. “So they’re not all like this?”

“Oh, god, no,” Alex said. She reached over and squeezed Emily’s arm. “Really, Em, I know you didn’t mean for him to get hurt. And he knows too. If he wasn’t pretending to be asleep, he’d tell you that too.”

“He’s faking? How can you tell?”

“He’s not snoring.”

Spencer opened one eye. “I wasn’t faking,” he protested, struggling to sit up. “I was sleeping. And I don’t snore.”

“No, yeah, you kind of do,” Emily said. “Cute little kitten snores.” He rolled his eyes, but she took his hand in both of hers. “Can you please tell me you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you, I promise,” he said. “A mild sprain can heal in one to three weeks. Maybe six weeks for a moderate sprain. I’ll live.”

She squeezed his hand. “Okay, cool, can you tell that to Hotchner?” she said. “I don’t think he’s quite so willing to forgive me.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Alex promised. “He might hold a grudge, but I’ll get over it, I promise.”

Suddenly Emily leaned over and pulled Spencer into a hug. “You know I love you, right, babe?” she said.

“I know,” he said, startled. The hug was definitely a little too tight, but he had the sneaking suspicion that, just like him, she wasn’t used to having people care. “I love you, Em.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “Just wanted to make sure,” she said, letting go and pulling back from him. “It’s late, you probably need to go to bed.”

“I’m not tired,” he said.

“Yes, you are,” Alex said. “Come on, let’s go.”

It was slow going for him to hobble to his room and change into his pajamas, and by the time he was done he actually was kind of tired. Hotch stuck his head in his room as Alex was helping him climb into bed. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Spencer huffed as he fell back against his pillow.

“How’s your ankle?”

“Also fine,” Spencer said. Hotch didn’t seem convinced. “I’ll stay off it all day tomorrow, I promise.”

“Yeah, you’d better,” Hotch said. “Goodnight, kid.”

“Hey, Hotch?” he called, and Hotch doubled back and leaned in the doorway. “Can you be nice to Emily, please? She already feels bad about everything. She didn’t mean it.”

“I make no promises,” Hotch said. “But...I’ll try. Goodnight, Spencer. Get some sleep.”

“You think he’ll actually be nice to Emily?” Spencer asked.

“We’ll see,” Alex said. “Lie down.”

He obeyed. “Goodnight, Alex,” he said as she tucked him in snugly.

She swept his hair back and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, darling,” she said. “Sleep tight.”

He snuggled under the covers. His ankle didn’t hurt as sharply as it did earlier, and his favorite blanket was soft and reassuring against his cheek. Alex switched on his little nightlight, and he was asleep before she closed the door.

#au: patron saint of lost causes #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #alex blake #alex miller #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #hotch is the most protective father #alex loves spencer so much #spencer is an anxious little baby who needs love and praise #emily is also an anxious babe and I love her #alex and emily are best friends and I am here for it #faby picked the movie!!#I love spencer and alex signing to each other

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atlafan · 5 years ago

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Take it Slow - Part Nine

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

(fluff and smut)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

Masterpost

Harry left early the next morning. He needed to get home to edit the photos he took on Friday. You took a shower, and got ready for your mom. She picked you up at noon like she said, and you headed to the mall.

“So, what do you need to shop for?” You ask her on the drive there.

“I wanted to go to Macy’s to look for a new comforter set. I had some coupons, and I’d really like a new one. You can pick one out too, if you want.”

“Thanks, I may have to take you up on that. How’s the baby?”

“Oh, he’s wonderful. I have my day with him tomorrow. I can try to Facetime you during lunch so you can see him, if you want.”

“I’d love that!”

Your mom pulls up, and parks near the Macy’s entrance. You walk with her to the bedding, and look at some sheets, these you could definitely use.

“Hey, mom what do you think of this color?”

“You really like blue don’t you?” She laughs. “Don’t you have these already? Why not go for like a blush purple.”

“Oo, that would be nice. I love a light purple.” You grab a pack of light purple sheets.

“Let’s go find some comforters to match.”

You two discuss which comforter would look good on her bed, and which one would look good on your bed. You find a white comforter that had purple and black flowers on it. A nice change from your plain, navy comforter. You two put everything in the car, and then head back into the mall to look at clothes.

“Do you need anything new for work?”

“Mom, you just spent like $200 on me, you don’t have to buy me clothes.”

“I really don’t mind sweetie, I like being able to do these things for you.”

“I have so many work clothes.”

“How about date clothes? You’re seeing someone now right? You’ll need some new clothes to add into your date night rotation.” You’re not sure how to explain that you’ve already moved past the date night phase.

“That would be great.” You smile at her.

You go in and out of a couple of stores, not finding the right fits. You start to wonder what stores Harry shops at.

“Honey?”

“Yeah, mom?”

“Do you have any pictures of Harry you could show me? I’d love to see what he looks like.” You reach for your phone, but then you remember you don’t have any pictures together.

“I don’t have any of him, but let me check his insta real quick.” You remember you haven’t even looked at the private account he let you follow. He’s not the selfie type, but you do find a pretty recent picture of him and Niall from around Niall’s birthday. “Here, he’s on the left, obviously, you know what Niall looks like.” Your mom takes your phone and squints.

“Oh my, he’s handsome! Well done.” She hands you back your phone.

“He’s kind of my boyfriend.” She stops short.

“Come again?”

“Last weekend, he asked me to be his girlfriend, and I said yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I was just trying to enjoy it before I told everyone.”

“He must really like you.”

“He does, and I really like him. I know it’s only been a month, but we have a great connection.”

“Alright, I’ll trust your judgement on this.”

You both continue walking. You decide to go into H n M. You could usually find something cute here. You and your mom split up so you can divide and conquer. You meet at the back where the dressing rooms are. You end up getting a green jumpsuit that had a cut out in the stomach. You and your mom decide it’s cute, and she buys it for you.

“Okay, you are now done spending money on me.” As your mom is about to respond, you hear someone call after her.

“Mrs. (y/last name)!” You both turn around and see Niall…and Harry. Shit. You’re not ready for him to meet your family. His face is red, he clearly isn’t ready either. Niall jogs over to you both, and Harry takes his time. He stands awkwardly, and mouths I’m sorry to you.

“Niall Horan, is that you?” She says, giving Niall a light hug. “Good to see you, honey.”

“Good to see ya too, what brings you into town.”

“Just taking my baby here shopping.” She coughs.

“Oh, sorry, um, mom, this is Harry, my boyfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He sticks his hand out to shake, but she swats it away.

“Don’t be silly.” You watch as your mom gives Harry a hug.

“What are you guys doing here?” I ask. You suddenly feel like a teenager, bumping into your crush.

“Boyo here needed some new jeans, so we’re on our way to J. Crew.” Niall answers for him.

“Would you boys like to have lunch with us before you shop? We were thinking of grabbing some food.” Your mom says.

“Mom, I’m sure they were just making a quick trip.”

“Lunch would be great.” Harry says, surprising you. “I’m starved actually. We were on our way to the Mexican restaurant just down there.”

“Mexican sounds great, are you okay with that sweetie?” Everyone is looking at you.

“Um, sure.”

Harry takes your hand in his as you walk to the restaurant. Niall makes conversation with your mom. He pulls you closer to him so you can speak without being heard.

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot you said you and your mum were coming to the mall.”

“No, it’s not your fault at all. Does Niall always go shopping with you?” You giggle.

“No! He asked me what I was up to, and I said I might come here, and he asked if he could come. I think he wanted to brag about Sarah. He also was really worried about you. Sarah told him everything.”

“Of course she did.” You roll your eyes.

You get to the restaurant and your mom asks for a table of four. You get seated pretty quickly at a booth, which makes things awkward because you really want to sit next to Harry, but don’t want your mom to feel awkward either.

“You two can sit next to each other.” Your mom smiles warmly. “You don’t mind, right Niall.”

“Not at all.” He slides in next to your mom. You sit across from her, and Harry across from Niall.

A waitress comes over with four waters, chips, and salsa. She leaves us to look at the menus.

“Honey, what do you think would work best for me?”

“I think taco salad would be pretty mild, mom.”

“So you don’t like spicy, but your daughter does? Interesting.” Harry says.

“When I was pregnant with her, I had cravings for buffalo chicken and all sorts of spicy food. I think that’s why she likes it so much. And it’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just more of an age thing.” She laughs. “(y/n), what are you gonna get?”

“I’m thinking some tacos with just veggies.” You furrow your eyebrows at the menu. “Would everyone eat guac if I order guac?” Everyone nods. “Great.” You smile.

The waitress comes back to take your orders. Harry orders vegetable nachos with dairy free cheese. No wonder he liked this place, lots of vegan options. Niall, being courteous, orders a vegetable enchilada. Niall has seen you gag at a table too many times, he knows better than to order meat around you.

“So, Harry, what do you do for work?” Your mom asks kindly.

“I’m a photographer. I work for a geographical magazine, and also do some freelance work on the side.”

“Oh wow, (y/n) used to be quite the skilled photographer. She took her own senior photos in high school.”

“Is that so?” He looks at you and smiles.

“Mom, please.” You beg her not to embarrass you.

“What? Everyone asked you where you got them done, remember?”

“Why did you take them yourself?” Niall asked.

“Because I know my best angles, and I actually hate when other people take my picture, so I just did it myself.” You shrug.

“Seems valid to me.” Harry also shrugs.

“So, tell me again, how exactly did you two meet?”

“I set them up.” Niall says proudly.

“We went out for dinner, and just hit it off.” Harry says with a smile. He places his hands on the table, and you think your mom’s eyes are going to pop out of her head.

“Are those real gold?” She asks pointing to the rings.

“Um, yeah. I’m not sure, like, how many karats they are though. My mum got them for me when I finished grad school two years ago.”

“Ohh, well, they’re lovely nonetheless.” She squints at his nails. “What beautiful colors to have your nails painted. Not many people can pull that off, but it suits you dear.” Harry sees where you get your kindness and understanding from.

“Um, thank you, very much.”

“Now the tattoos on the other hand…” Your mom begins to tease, “well, if you ever meet my mother, you’ll want to cover them up.”

“Is she conservative?” He asks.

“No, we just can’t really do tattoos, and she’s a little blunter about that fact. She’s blunt about a lot of things.” Your mom starts laughing, and you start laughing because you know exactly what she’s thinking of. Harry and Niall give each other a confused look.

“Sorry, it’s so stupid. This one time my Nannie.” You stop because you can’t stop laughing and neither can your mom. “My Nannie saw that my uncle added to the sleeve he has, that already pisses her off, and from the other room we hear go ‘You look like a fucking idiot!’, and my mom started laughing, and my Nannie heard so, she started laughing and she laughed so hard she.” Tears are streaming down your cheeks, and the guys have started laughing. “She peed her pants!”

The waitress awkwardly brings all the food to the table while you all wipe your eyes. You all dig in, and enjoy light conversation as you eat. You and Niall talk about your recent project at work, and your mom shows everyone pictures of your nephew. The waitress bring the check over, and Harry and your mom both grab for it.

“Oh, that’s very kind dear, but I got it.”

“I insist, please let me pay for lunch.” Harry gives your mom a warm smile.

“Harry, you really don’t need to.” You start to say, but he ignores you. Your mom slowly lets go of the check.

You feel bad, he pays for way too many things for you.

“Thank you.” Your mom says.

“Not a problem.” Harry takes out some cash from his wallet, and Niall throws a few bills in as well. “That should take care of it.”

The boys slide out, and Harry extends his hand to help you up. You all walk out of the restaurant. It was a good lunch, and you were happy your mom seemed to get along with Harry, but you couldn’t shake the odd feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Well, it was so nice to meet you Harry.” Your mom gives him another hug, and turns to Niall to hug him. “And it’s always a delight sweetheart.”

“It was nice to meet you too. I’ll call you later, (y/n).” He leans in to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“Bye Mrs. (y/last name).” Niall waves, and the boys walk away.

“Oh, he is a keeper honey. I have never seen you with such an attractive man.”

“Mom, please.”

“Seriously, hold on to that one.” You roll your eyes at her, and make your way out to the parking lot.

Harry and Niall make their way into J. Crew. Harry grabs three pair of black jeans, and two pair of dark blue jeans. He grabs some t-shirts, and a couple of button ups. Niall mostly grabs some shirts and just one pair of pants. They each pay for their things, and head to Harry’s car.

“So, what did you think of (y/n)’s mum?” Niall asks him.

“She seemed really nice.” He shrugs. “Kind of an awkward way to meet her. Sort of a little soon to be meeting family, no?”

“Oh no, don’t start. You don’t get to ask that girl to be your girlfriend three weeks in, and then ask if it’s too soon to meet her mum.”

“You seemed to know her well.”

“I’ve been to a few of their family functions, yeah.”

“So what, were you like her go to date for things?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you went with her to Kate’s wedding.”

“I went with her to Kate’s wedding because it was right after she recovered from everything. She didn’t feel strong enough to go alone, otherwise she would have. Are you jealous?”

“No, I guess I’m just confused. You’ve known her for like what? Almost two years? How come you waited so long to introduce her to me?”

“You were still finishing up grad school, and honestly, you were still bein’a prick to girls.”

“Did you ever like her?”

“I thought she was cute, but the more we got to know each other, we both realized a friendship was what we both needed.”

“How did you not meet Sarah at Kate’s wedding?”

“We talked about that actually. We met briefly, but everyone was so preoccupied all night, so it’s not like we had time to really chat. You and (y/n) both came to my holiday party last year, you know?”

“Yeah, but we weren’t introduced.”

“Why are you gettin’ pissy all of a sudden?”

“I’m not gettin’ pissy.”

“Are you really mad that I know her mum well?”

“No.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Do what? What am I doing?”

“You’re actin’ like a fuckin’ baby. She’s yours, man, all yours. I’m her friend, her good friend that happened to be around during a shitty time. She didn’t know how to tell her mum about what happened, so she asked me to go with her the day she did for support. After that if there was a family party, I was also invited.”

“Wasn’t her family curious as to why you two weren’t dating though?”

“They asked us a couple times, but we just kept telling them it wasn’t like that.”

“You never thought of it?”

“Maybe once or twice, but after what happened, happened I stopped seeing her that way. I saw her as this woman who I wanted to be there for, almost like a sister.”

“I cried like a baby when she told me. Do you know if she ever pressed charges?”

“She didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve talked with her about it until I’ve been blue in the face, I think she just wanted to forget about it.”

“But he could easily do that to someone else.”

“Harry…”

“And then the next night when we hung out, we did stuff, man, good stuff, but I was so confused.”

“She’s in control of the situation with you. She feels safe, she doesn’t think you’re gonna do anything to hurt her. I’m really happy that she’s getting back to her old self. For a while there, I thought I had lost her. But slowly she’s been coming back to life, and you, well, every day she comes into work after one of your dates, she floats through the halls. Nothing could kill her good mood. Don’t doubt yourself. Besides, she’s good for you too.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re better when you have a lady in your life. You make more time for fun. You fall into your work too much, it’s not healthy, mate.”

“You know that night you came to pick her up from my place?”

“Yeah.”

“She mentioned how she didn’t have a toothbrush, and I literally went out the next day and got her a toothbrush. So the next time she came over, she’d feel more comfortable to stay over. I have this weird need to like keep her safe or something. Ugh, and she’s so cute and shy in the morning. Like it takes her an hour to come into herself.”

“You’ve really got it bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

Harry didn’t call you Sunday like he said he would, but you figured he was just busy. You went to bed early, and actually couldn’t wait to get to work Monday morning. You settled in, with a coffee waiting for you on your desk. You told Niall your mom would be Facetiming during lunch so you could see your nephew, if he wanted to join. The baby was in good spirits, and the call went by way too quick. You hadn’t heard from Harry all day. He did say this was a busy time of year for him. You couldn’t help but think your lunch yesterday truly was awkward.

You and Niall walked out of the building together, and headed your separate ways home. You contemplated driving straight to his apartment, but you didn’t want to push it. You went to the gym, and had a good session. When you got to your apartment, you decided to draw a relaxing bath for yourself. You had done some HIIT, and knew you’d be sore tomorrow. When you looked at your empty tub you sighed. You didn’t want to take this bath alone. You grab your phone and call Harry.

“Hi, love.”

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“Um, well, are you busy?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Um, I’m still at work, why?”

“Well, I was thinking of taking a bubble bath.” You say lowly, slightly embarrassed.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, and well, my tub…”

“Are you asking me to come over and take a bath with you?”

“Maybe.”

“I can be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I should have wrapped up here a while ago anyways.” He sighs.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.” You hang up and smile.

You get the bath ready, and put the bubbles in. You wrap yourself in your robe, and wait for Harry to show up. In thirty minutes, in true Harry fashion, you heard the buzzer go off, and you let him in. He walks in with his beanie on, dark circles under his eyes. He’s wearing a tattered blue t-shirt and black jeans. He looks at you in your robe, and nearly melts. He takes you in for a hug, and hold you tight.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. By the time I got back from the mall, I realized how much work I really needed to do on my freelance shit. And then I got wrapped up in some other shit today. I have some sort of annoying news.”

“What’s that?” You ask, leading him down the hall to your bedroom.

“They’re making me travel this week.” You stop short, and look up at him. “Someone else was supposed to go, but they got strep throat, so they’re not allowed to go. I have to catch a flight tomorrow afternoon.”

“Where are they sending you?”

“New Mexico.”

“That’s exciting! How long will you be gone for?”

“Until Sunday.”

“That’s not so bad. I’m glad you came to see me tonight.”

“Me too. Now, let’s not let this warm water go to waste.”

He takes his beanie off, and shakes his hair out. He takes his shirt off, and you can’t help but stare at his perfect torso. As he goes to unzip his pants, he makes eye contact with you.

“Staring?”

“N, no.” You say as he chuckles.

You untie the front of your robe, and slip it off. He watches you climb in, and you lean your back against one end. Harry slips his boxers off, and gets in, leaning against the oppose side. He furrows his eyebrows while looking at you.

“What?” You finally say.

“Why you so far away from me? C’mere.” He holds his arms out for you. You inch towards him, and turn around, so you can lean your back against him. “See, much more comfortable.”

“You just wanted to stretch those long legs out.” He squeezes his leg against yours, and wraps his arms around your stomach. “So, what did you think of yesterday?”

“Not how I pictured meeting your mum, but it was fine. Did she like me?”

“Like you? She raved about you the entire time. She thought you were cute and funny.”

“When you two were telling that story about your grandmum, I thought she was going to wet herself.” You immediately start laughing at the memory of your Nannie peeing her pants in front of you. It’s a throaty laugh, but you don’t care. You start to feel tears in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry, that is just one of the funniest things I have ever seen her do. And she has done a lot of funny things.”

“You’re close with her?”

“Very.”

“That’s nice.”

“She had my uncle and mom at a really young age, so they’re all close too. It’s nice to see. My mom was like old when she had me.”

“How old is old?”

“Thirty-five. She was twenty-six when she had my oldest sister.” There’s a pause between the two of you as he takes in this information.

“What made you want to take a bath tonight?”

“I did sort of an intense workout and I wanted my muscles to relax.”

Harry starts rubbing your shoulders, and you lean into him further. Your head leans forward as he works your neck. His large hands feel like heaven as they knead into you. His hands move lower down your back. He kneads just above your bum.

“Oh, Harry.” You lean your head back against his shoulder. His hands travel around to your stomach and move up to your breasts. You hiss at his touch as he twists your piercings slightly.

“Are you sure you got these just for fun?” He says into your ear.

“What, what do you mean?” You’re breathing heavy.

“You really like when I pinch you, and twist.”

“Y,yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Harry.” You lean as far back into him as you can, and you feel him harden against you.

He’s going to be gone for the rest of the week. You want to make him feel good. You turn around to face him, breaking contact for only a moment, his hands go right back to your chest. Your hands reach below the water, and slide up his thighs, sending a shiver up his spine.

“Harry, can I touch you?” You say looking up at him through your eye lashes.

“Please.”

You scoot closer, putting your legs over his. He leans in to kiss you. You taste mint as his tongue goes into your mouth. Your fingers trail up to his tip, and your thumb runs over his slit. He takes a deep breath, and presses his lips to the crook of your neck, biting down slightly. Your hand starts to pump him slowly, as his breathing becomes more rapid, so does your hand. You love the way you need to basically pump him with both hands because his length is so big. You had been with taller men before, they usually had a bigger dick, but none had one like Harry’s. He had girth, and you couldn’t help but imagine would it would feel like to have him stretch you out as he pushed inside you. You shake the thought from your head, and focus on pumping him. You feel his slick precome all over your hands. His kisses on your neck become sloppy, and his hands move from your breasts to around your hips, pressing into you. For a moment, you think it might leave a bruise with the way he’s holding onto you. Normally this would make you stop, but you know he’s not intentionally trying to hurt you. You hear groans and curse words come from his mouth.

“I’m gonna come, (y/n).” He says releasing his teeth from your skin. “Can I come on your tits?”

You nod your head yes. He swiftly stands up in the tub, your hands cling to his thighs as he takes control of himself. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you watch his own hands work over himself. You tilt your head back, and push your breasts up to give him a target.

“Ah, fuck.” You hear him say as the warm liquid shoots to your chest, and drips down to your torso. He slowly sits back down in the water, planting a kiss to your forehead. You reach for your washcloth, but he snatches it from you. Harry dips it into the water, and wipes you off.

“Thank you.” You coo.

“No, thank you.” He smiles at you hazily.

You both stand up, and he grabs two towels. He wraps one around his waist, and wraps the other around you.

“Harry, will you stay tonight?” You ask as you climb over the edge of the tub.

“On a school night?” He asks with an eyebrow raised and a grin. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” You wink at him.

“I’d love to stay.” He wraps his arms around you, bringing you close to his chest.

You put on a large t-shirt and a pair of cotton panties, while he just puts his boxers back on. You make a couple of smoothies for dinner, and then climb into bed together. You’re snuggled to his chest, while you both scroll on your phones.

“(y/n), I have a favor to ask you.” You look up at him, he seems nervous.

“What’s up?”

“Well, I was wondering, if I left a key to my place with you, could you water my plants while I’m gone this week?” You think for a moment. Niall has a key to his place, why not just ask him? Because Harry wanted you at his place. He wanted to know that you were there while he was gone. He wanted you to take care of his things.

“Sure, I could do that.”

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Not at all, babe.” You give him a quick peck on his cheek. You notice the time on the clock, and see it’s almost ten. “I need to try to go to sleep now so I’m not tired tomorrow morning.

“Alright.” He leans over and turns the side table lamp off. You both slide further under the covers. “Could I, um, be little spoon?”

“Of course!”

Harry turns over with a smile on his face as your legs become tangled, and you’re pressed against his back. You both soon drift off into sleep happy and comfortable.

#take it slow #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles y/n fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut fic #photographer!harry #smut #fluff #fanfiction #im writing part 16 and i cant wait to get there with you guys #hope youre all still liking it!

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

Text

HASO Origins “Ramirez.”

This is what my rain wanted to write today, so this is what you guys get to read lol. I am a slave to the whims of what catches my stupid brain’s fleeting interest. This was actually pretty fun o write though, so I hope you like it :)

The sound of steel cutting over ice: it’s sharp like the scraping of a blade on concrete though much more satisfying. It’s a sound he associates with weightlessness. He imagines that if he could fly this is what it would feel like. He holds his arms out to the side cutting backwards across the ice in large sweeping strokes, his feet moving in familiar patterns so effortless he could definitely do them in his sleep. He spins in a tight circle rotating over the ice on the tips of his toes using the picks at the front of the skates to gain purchase against the cold, frozen material.

“Yo! Angel!”

He skids to a stop sending up a wave of ice crystals against one wall.

On the other side of the rink a youth hockey team is practicing drills.

“Looking good, baby.”

If he had rolled his eyes any harder he might have been able to see his spinal column.

He could see them waving at him through the glass arms around each other like they were about to break out into the throws of passion.

Wasn’t it so nice that both of his exes had gotten together.

He sighed, guess that’s what he got for only dating within the olympic team. HE stepped off the ice and sat down on the bench pulling off his skates and setting them to the side. The two lovebirds walked closer.

Christina Swanson and Michel Castle both up and coming olympic competitors working together on a partnered ice routine they were sure was going to win them a gold medal at next year’s winter olympics.

Both of them were super hot Christina with the body of an angel and michel with the body of a greek god, but all Ramirez wanted to do was punch Michel in the dick and slap the bitch look off of Christina’s face. He wondered if that was the way everyone felt about their exes.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Christina giggled, “Michel and I were just discussing how good you are in b-”

He held up a hand, “The last thing I want to hear is a score roster for my private performances.” He pulled on his sneakers, “So if you will excuse me, I’m out before this gets petty.”

Michel smirked, “Oh come on Angel, just a bit of friendly banter. You know you would probably skate better if you got that stick out of your ass.”

“Hmm that’s weird because I distinctly remember that being your thing.” He threw his skates over his shoulder and walked past the two of them trying to ignore their side comments. He found it very funny that they were being rude to him when he distinctly remembered it was Michel who had cheated on him with christina the second time and christina who had dumped him the first time.

Not for the first time he wondered if he shouldn't just pick one side and stick with it, at least then he wouldn’t have to run risk of being forced to watch his exes dating each other...or never mind he was sure he could find a way to make that happen. He always seemed to have the worst luck with girls, or guys. He had the worst luck dating in general.

He stepped out into the hallway walking past another group of kids at the rec center and then out into the hallway where the elderly janitor was pinning up notices to the cork board.

“Morning Elliot.”

The old man turned around, “Oh Morning Angel.” The two men shook hands.

“Good yo see you up and about. The youth seem to like to sleep in, but you know what I always say early to wake early to rise.”

“Keeps a man healthy and wealthy and wise, yeah, I know.” He glanced over the man’s shoulder and towards the new gloss holo-posters. The largest one stood out, it was a recruiting poster for the Marine Corps, “Go to space with the marine corps.” He read aloud, “What are they on about.”

Elliot waved a hand, “Didn’t you hear. They’re flying that new fangled interstellar space whachamachallit out in the next few years. Guess they are looking for marines in case they get attacked by-” He wiggled his fingers, “Aliens.”

Ramirez laughed, “Cool.” He glanced up at the sky, “I’ve always thought it would be cool to go to space.”

Elliot waved a hand, “Don’t you have some ice dancing to do or something, kid.”

His shoulders wilted a bit, “yeah, guess I do.”

He said goodbye to the old janitor and stepped out into the Texas sunlight. It was hot out here after all the ice.

Overhead he could hear the distant roar of jet engines from one of the nearest air force bases. Seemed like they had been working with jets a lot recently. He swore he had seen about a million and a half of those M-90s fly overhead in the past few weeks.

He walked over to his car and slid into the Driver’s seat staring blankly out the windshield.

What was wrong with him?”

He had been like this for weeks.

All mopy and pathetic…. Was it because of his exes, the last breakup, nah he was over them.

He slumped down in his seat and started the car heading home with a case of some serious moodiness. When he got back he could almost forget about his issues since he was immediately tackled by his younger sister who proceeded to beat the ever loving shit out of him in a wrestling match. But then again she was also on her way to becoming an olympian, so that didn’t surprise him.

This family was pretty talented at sports.

His older sister played soccer professionally, and his youngest brother was star of his middle school football team so something could be said about that.

“Morning Angel, how was practice today?”

“Absolute shit.”

“Hey watch your language.”

“Sorry mom, just hit a slump or something.”

HIs father looked up from his tablet where he was sitting at the table, “Sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah yeah, fine. I’m just going to head out today maybe catch up with friends or something.”

“Alright have fun, don’t do anything stupid.”

***

He had gone and tried to do tons of stupid things, but none of those things were what he really needed. Nothing could take his mind off the increasing feeling of dissatisfaction, which he couldn’t explain for the life of him, and that night found him sitting on the roof watching the sky darken as the sun set behind the distant line of hills. The air was hot and dusty, so he only wore shorts and a white cotton shirt where he lay against the roof’s sloped surface. A breeze rolled past him, a breeze that carried with it the sound of some pretty colorful cursing in his family’s native tongue.

He frowned and glanced over the edge of the roof.

“Abuela!”

His grandmother held up a hand to shut him up as she crawled onto the room still cursing violently and grumbling, “Why do you always have to go and mope in places restricted to old people.” Still speaking spanish.

He helped her onto the the roof to sit next to hi her old wrinkled hand gripping onto his arm like a steel vice. People said he had a lot in common with his grandmother. He had definitely inherited her dark tan skin dark, almost black, hair and amber eyes, “What are you doing here?”

“I told you, I’m up here to see what you’re moping about. Did practice not go well today.”

“No of course it did.”

“Exes?

“No.”

“Get rejected?”

“No.”

“Than what do you have to complain about?”

He smiled at her bluntness and leaned back watching as the first stars winked into place in the night sky, “I don’t know… I just…. You ever just feel sort of empty?”

“That’s called crippling depression.”

He snorted a smile, “No, not that. I mean like you aren’t doing something you should be doing, or that your life the way it is is meaningless.”

“Your one year away from being an olympian.”

He sighed and sat up resting his arms against his knees, “That’s the problem though isn’t it. I am a year away from being an olympian and it's not…. Well it’s not exciting. Shouldn't I be super nervous, excited or even proud.” He shuffled his feet, “I mean I have been working on this for years, I used to love skating…. But now…. I mean I still like it, don’t get me wrong, but it all seems so…. so …. Petty.”

He turned looking over to find her raising an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged, “Never-mind.” Just me being dumb I guess.

“No keep going. I’m listening.”

“Well… I'm at the peak of my game, the best I will ever be, and I should be proud of that, but the more and more I think about it the less…. Important it seems. Like I just… It's like I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing off for praise and admiration only to get old and break down and then regret my youth. I have always been good at any physical activity I tried, and instead of using it for something worthwhile or useful, I'm doing this.”

“Isn’t the pursuit of betterment in itself a worthwhile cause?”

He shrugged, “I have no problem with other people doing it if that’s what makes them happy, but I just…. I don’t know if this is what makes me happy anymore.”

“Then quit?”

“After years of training. Wouldn’t that be wasting my life and my talent. Years of preparation just thrown in the trash”

“Better to waste a decade than three. Believe me, I am old enough to know. Besides, you're not even old enough to drink. I can hardly consider the years being wasted ”

Overhead, the stars winked down on him.

***

He walked into the rink the next day like on any other day skates hung over his shoulder. He sat on the bench with the others listening to their coaches discussing sponsors , discussing how things were going with getting their team ready, about who was going to be doing what, but he could barely pay attention.

He looked around at the others, friends he had had for many years, watched them lean forward in their seats eyes wide with excitement. He could practically hear the eager beating of their hearts as they bounced on the balls of their feet.

And he felt….. Nothing

He glanced over at Michel and Christina, the two most vapid people he had ever met (yeah he was apparently great at picking them), and saw the eager hungry expressions on their faces.

Even they were ready, willing and prepared.

They looked excited.

He felt frustration, anger and hopelessness beginning to build up inside him. He stared down at the skates sitting in his lap. He stared out at the ice rink, a 30 by 60m oval of ice where he would be paraded for the rest of his short lived career until his young body degraded and he either walked off or someone younger and more talented pushed him off.

It was hopeless

He felt meaningless.

He stood abruptly, skates clattering to the floor. He watched them as if in slow motion clatter and bounce. All eyes turned to look at him. His coach looked on in confusion.

“Angel, are you ok?”

The voices echoed in his head, and he turned walking out of the rink ice skates left forgotten on the floor. He heard footsteps behind hi, voices calling his name.

“What is he doing?”

“Why’s he being such a drama queen.”

He walked out into the hall passing by the cork board where-

He paused glancing down at the poster from earlier.

The marines.

A hand reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, “Angel, you ok.” She shrugged the hand off and walked out into the parking lot. He could feel the eyes of the other skaters pinned to his back staring at him. They loved drama, and this was getting interesting.

He stood in the parking lot staring at the sun and swiveling his head.

Ah, there.

He began walking across the parking lot.

His coach grabbed him by the arm, “Angel, are you ok. Do we need to call someone. A hospital maybe. Perhaps you should sit down and take a breath and let your head clear.”

“My head is clear.” He heard himself say.

He stepped up to a door in the little strip mall and shouldered it open, stepping into the cool air conditioned room. The carpet was drab and grey, and nothing could be heard but the distant sound of a vacuum and some typing. The others piled in after him as he swiveled his head looking for the correct door.

He found it.

He pushed it open startling the man behind the desk whose name tag read Sgt Myers.

He seemed surprised as the odd eclectic group crammed themselves into his office.

Sgt Myers tilted his head, “Can I help you?”

Warm honey light dropped from the window onto his strangely patterned uniform.

“How do I sign up?”

“ANGEL! What are you doing!”

Behind him the others gasped. Sgt. Myers looked very confused.

“Er Well, we have some paperwork and a background check.”

“When is your next bus leaving.”

“Tonight.”

“Can you get me on it?”

His coach grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, “Angel what are you doing! Have you gone insane! Is this some sort of psychotic break. Do I need to call your parents! You can’t just throw away your life by joining the army.”

Ramirez pointed at the wall, “Marines.

Sgt Myers sat with his mouth open.

Ramirez shrugged his coach off, “Can you get me on that bus.”

“Er…. yeah. I guess we probably could. You’d have to do a physical and….”

“Done.”

More protests raised from the back.

“This isn't about the breakup is it?” Michel wondered.

Ramirez snorted, “Not even close, but getting away from you will be a perk.”

“Angel, try to think for a moment.”

Ramirez held out his arm allowing the man to scan the implants under the skin. There was a beep as the information automatically filled out the paperwork on file. The man looked through his background check, and seeing nothing major he shrugged. “I'll send it out to be approved…. But Kid….. maybe you should think about this for a minute. No hasty decisions.”

Behind him the others threw up a ruckus agreement.

He stayed calm, “it’s my life and my regrettable decisions to make.”

He couldn’t really argue with that.

“Angel, why are you doing this. You’re too talented to be wasted in the army. Please just come back, you’ll feel better once you get back on the ice.”

He turned to look at his coach, the other members of his team who looked on in confusion. He felt surprisingly calm and collected, “You’re right.” They looked relieved, “The ice does calm me down, which is why I don’t want to make it a career.”

More uproar.

He raised his voice, “You guys are all so excited, and the fact that I’m not just proves that I shouldn’t be here.” His heart was hammering now as his body began to catch up with his mind.

He felt the beating, pounding of his heart, the rush of blood in his head, the fluttering feeling in his chest.

And he felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his nose and eyes prickling with heat.

A shiver of excitement rolled down his spine, and a grin broke out across his face.

There it was.

He hadn’t felt that sensation in a

Very

Long

Time

He held up a hand against their protests, “Look I am going to miss all of you, and I wish you luck. I am super proud of all the work I have seen you guys give to this, but this is where I have to say goodbye. Have made my decision. I am going to be a marine.”

***

“You did what!” His mother’s voice was loud over the phone as he slouched back against the tarnished bus seat as the other young men and women filtered on.

“I joined the marines?”

“Angel Antonio Ramirez, tell me you are joking.”

“No mom. I…. I did what I had to do.”

Behind her in the house he could hear the gasps of his younger sister, “But Angel, we were going to go to the Olympics together.”

That part he did feel a bit sad about, “Sorry Izzy, but you were always meant to be the cool one in the family.”

“What is going on?’ His younger brother asked.

“Your brother joined the marines.”

“Cool.”

“Not not cool.” His mother said, “ANgel get your ass home right now.”

He sort of just smiled as -- from the background his father cut in, “Sounds exactly like something Angel would do.”

His mother was about to protest when rockus laughter cut through the background. She went silent in confusion before, “Abuela?”

“Go get em boy! See those aliens!.” She continued to laugh, “Proud of you angel, was hoping you had the balls to go and do it.”

“You knew?

“Course I knew, runs in the family. Your grandpa ran off to join the army during the pan-asian war didn’t he?”

“Well yeah.”

“Proud of you Angel, now go get em.” She continued to laugh, and that made him smile.. Even if it was just her supporting him, he would be ok.

A sigh, his mother, “Angel, are you sure this is what you want.”

“Yes mom, I’m sure.”

“Ok…. well call us and let us know ok?”

“Yes.”

“Love you.”

“Love you to.”

He hung up and leaned back in his seat just as another weight dropped down beside him. He looked over, coming eye to eye with a short-blond woman with blue/hazel eyes, and a short blond buzz.

Damn she was cut.

“Sup.”she said sensing him staring

“Nothing much.” He Said with a smile. He held out a hand, “Ramirez.”

She took his hand with a strong grip, “Maverick. So what brings you onto this ronchy ass bus.”

He grinned, “Long story.”

“I’m sure we’ve got time.”

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johannstutt413 · 4 years ago

Text

(requested by anonymous; returning to this well)

“Brake, acceleration, direction, wheel rotation...It’s that simple, huh?” The Doctor was sitting in the driver’s seat of Mostima’s truck; now that they were engaged, she’d decided to teach him how to drive on their way back from their little vacation.

“I guess so.” So far, he was following very well. “Alright, I can guarantee us a straight shot from this gas station back to Rhodes Island; do you want to try taking us back?”

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel confidently. “I would.”

“Then let’s make it happen. Wait for this guy...alright, 3, 2, 1, go!” She dilated time around the truck so he could accelerate without having to worry about oncoming traffic, modulated times so they’d only have to deal with green lights, and-

“This is pretty cool.” And they were driving. “I’d imagine it gets boring by yourself, though.”

Mostima shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that- no, I take it back. Before I met you, I wouldn’t have said that, and I still enjoy traveling, but it definitely has its drawbacks.”

“You mean that I’m not in the truck with you, right?”

“Basically.” She sighed. “We’ll make it back to RI in about twenty minutes from here, which should give you plenty of time to get a feel for how I drive, at least.”

He frowned. “What if you don’t use your power?”

“...It’d take about 4 hours.”

“Wow.” A moment of silence, untouched by Mostima as she wasn’t quite sure what she was waiting on. “Can I ask you something about your time manipulation?”

The Sankta smiled. “Doctor, you know you can ask me anything about anything.”

“I just want to make sure you don’t rush through it. Is there a cost to you using your abilities?”

“Cost?” She shook her head. “No, nothing like that...I mean, I guess it messes with the rate what I target ages compared to the things around it, so that could be a cost for some people.”

He nodded. “So it doesn’t take seconds off your life whenever you use it, or anything like that?”

“Nothing like that. You’re worried?”

“I mean, it’s really a convenient Art to have,” the Doctor admitted, “but I can live without it if it means more time by your side.”

Mostima set a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright, love, I promise. I’m fi-” As if karmically triggered, she started coughing heavily as a wave of nausea passed through her.

“...Fuck highway speeds.” He slammed his foot on the gas and rocketed down the long, flat stretch of road ahead of them, only slowing down so they didn’t ram through the dock accidentally after a mere five minutes.

“Heh. That was pretty cool.” She gave one more hacking cough before groaning. “God, I jinxed myself back there.”

The Doctor considered scooping her in his arms but settled for locking arms with her. “Come on. I think you know where we’re going.”

“Yeah, I know...Sorry. I promise it’s not related to my Arts.” The Sankta flashed him a grin, but it wasn’t her strongest.

“And I know you believe that,” he replied, straight-faced, “but I want a medical opinion. Hey, Ptilopsis, who’s free right now? I need someone to give Mostima an exam.”

The Liberi, whose full attention had turned to the couple as they entered the clinic, answered the question with a touch of a button. “Miss Gavial is available.”

“Perfect, send us her way.”

“Second room on the right.” As he dashed past the desk, she cocked her head at the Sankta, who only managed a shrug before being pulled into Gavial’s office.

After getting the Doctor to calm down - or at least let go of Mostima’s arm so she could lie back in the chair - discussing symptoms with the patient and running diagnostics with a scanner, the Archosaurian came to a conclusion...And in her usual way, she communicated it to them as blunt as possible. “Have you two been using protection?”

“Should we be?” Off to the side, the Doctor was having every possible panic response now that someone else was in control. “Oh God, did I give her a disease or something?”

“Depends on how you feel about being parents, I guess.”

...The Sankta, whose rope was rather frayed by this point, finally felt it snap. “I’m pregnant?”

“Very early stages, but yeah.” Gavial gestured to the scanner in her hand. “Most races it’s hard to tell, but Sankta pregnancies are stupidly easy to identify.”

“Well, this is just fantastic,” she muttered, looking over at the Doctor to his reac- oh.

The Archosaurian stepped out. “I’m going to get some papers. You’ve got some talkin’ to do while I’m out.”

“I’ll say.” Mostima hopped off her perch and sat in the chair next to her thoroughly non-functioning fiance. “So, thoughts?”

“Do you...do you want to go through with this?” He sounded hollowed, somehow.

The Sankta shrugged. “It’ll be most of a year I can’t work - can’t risk using my Arts with a baby in me, after all - but even with that, I figured we’d have kids someday...So yeah, I’ll go through with this. You don’t seem happy about it.”

“I thought I was losing you.” The Doctor, already slouching, managed to sink lower in his chair without a single visible movement. “I was sure that after all we’ve been through to get to this point that Mother Terra was going to take you away faster than you entered into my life. To go from that to...I didn’t even know we could have kids together. I’m not a Sankta, after all.”

“I met a Liberi and a Feline who had eight kids together.”

He sighed. “I’ve just never thought it, you know? I’m so grateful for every second I get with you that it never occurred to me that our...our family would be anything but just the two of us.”

“Well, if you don’t want to be a dad, I guess there’s always the other option.” Mostima gestured to the door. “If you want to ask her about it, we can.”

“...You want to be a mom?”

She nodded, without any hesitation. “The old me wouldn’t be able to believe I’m saying this now, but yeah. No doubt about it.”

“Alright.” The Doctor reached for her hand, which she gladly offered, and took a deep breath. “Let’s see where this goes, then.”

“We’re going to be parents...God help us and everyone in the vicinity.”

He nodded. “Let’s hope she gets back with those papers before it registers completely.”

#arknights #mostima (arknights)#i legitimately had no idea where to pick this up #until i started wondering what kind of strain her power might have on her #and then well how does that work with aging #and then oh shit what would happen to a kid #so uh...here we are #arknights fic

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l0chn3ss · 5 years ago

Text

Finally

MaStar; All throughout their life, Black Star has always brushed Maka's bangs behind her ears. He goes from doing it out of necessity to want. AO3.

Written for Liz’s Birthday 2020 ily @happyisahabit

Maka was a teeny thing as a child, but Black Star guessed that all children started out small. He was merely a year older and an entire inch shorter than her, a fact that he was reminded of constantly whenever he visited his neighbor’s yard.

The only solace he had were her own words. She said, “My papa said boys get a growth squirt when they are older!”

He stared at her. “You mean ‘spurt’?”

“That is what I said. ‘Squirt,’” Maka’s four-year-old tongue betrayed her. She used her palm to brush her bangs from her eyes, indignant.

He helped her because his fingers were more developed and precise. After watching Maka’s mom for a while, he knew that Maka liked her hair tucked behind her ears.

She tried to shake him away, but stopped when her hair fell back, messy once again. She threw him a glare as if he were the sole cause.

“Stop moving, you baby,” Black Star said, taking a finger to push her long bangs aside. He moved the strands carefully to prove that he could, going slowly and deliberately to make sure that she knew.

This time, she allowed him because it needed to be done. Mama wasn’t around to do so for her, but Maka wasn’t pleased.

----------

They were older than before and Black Star had become well practiced in fixing Maka’s hair. Whether they were fingerpainting or pursuing other art projects, Maka’s sleek half-Asian hair never stayed perfectly in her pigtails. The colorful elastic bands always slipped from their place, away from her head. He liked to fling them away between his index and thumb into the grass where she couldn’t find them.

She insisted on having her hair cut just before they worked with play-doh. After all, Maka wanted to look her best when they played house— and by house, she meant domestic warfare. From her keen, eight-year-old hands, she sculpted excellent figures of a family by her standards, but the new length of her bangs made them hard to manage. With her fingers smelly from the clay, she refused to touch her dress nor her hair.

Black Star didn’t have the same reservations. He put down the little model sword that he was making for her… blob… and wiped his hands with the wet towelette that her mom trained her to keep around.

“Look here,” he commanded, leaving the previously folded cloth as a squeezed ball on the table where he found it.

Maka already knew what he wanted with her, because he assumed that he knew what she wanted. “No. There’s probably still play-doh under your nails.”

“I cleaned it.”

She glanced over. “Then why is there still blue under it?”

He ignored her and told her again. The second time, he sounded more whiny and impatient. “You know it’s bothering you.”

Sighing, Maka said, “It is, but I can fix my hair later.”

“Let’s just do it now.” Black Star already leaned over to handle a pigtail, knowing that she would allow it. “You’ll just get mad if you wait.”

Ultimately, Maka had to drop what she was working on and agree with him. She moved her head to face forward as muscle memory trained her to do, and she held onto the stool with both hands between her thighs, ensuring that she wouldn’t move during the fix-up. It rocked slightly since the legs were uneven with the kitchen floor, but Black Star didn’t notice the small clicking sounds it made.

Instead, he undid her band and tightened a loop closer to the back of her head rather than to the side as she liked it. He finished it off lower and by her neck, the position promising steadiness. After doing the other side in the same way, he pulled out two clips from the front pocket of his overalls in the shape of butterflies.

Seeing her protest, he explained, “Come on. You’ve been itching your forehead with your arm all day. You can’t have it behind your ears.”

Blunt ends of her hair would do that, but she tried a different approach. “You have the purple and yellow barrettes! Those are opposite colors. I don’t want to wear that.”

“Colors don’t have opposites, squirt.”

“If you remember from the Blue’s Clues computer game we used to play, you would remember that there are,” she scowled. “Purple and yellow make brown, and blue and red make purple so that leaves out yellow, which makes it—“

“Hold still,” Black Star said, parting her bangs in half and sliding the yellow of the pair in place. “Ok, other side.”

He moved onto her right side, only for her to swivel her neck to the other side, effectively showing the crown of her head. Black Star paced around to reach, but Maka moved again, making a small sound that resembled a “hmph.”

“It’s just going to get loose if you keep doing that.”

She didn’t answer immediately, but eventually admitted quietly, “It already did.”

Black Star laughed when she twirled around properly so he could see her. Lo and behold, the little butterfly did droop from its own weight down to her temple.

Promising, he said while he finished, “I’ll get better colors next time, Maks. You keep leaving these ones at my house, though.”

“The polka dot ones should still be in your room, I think.”

He bopped the back of her head to let her know that he was done and returned to his seat, glad that she didn’t notice the small blue clumps of clay in her hair.

----------

Maka’s hair curled where she kept it behind her ear, but the rest of it was straight and fine. It still grew tangled when the wind was too strong and hard to tame in the morning, but she only played with the ends by her shoulders when she was nervous. During PE class, she was flighty.

She picked stray strands that frizzed away, rubbing them between her fingers as she watched the other teams’ ten minute game. Her’s had a moment to rest before they faced off in the next rotation, but for some reason, she didn’t feel at ease, nor did her heart seem to settle its discomfort.

It was nerves, she decided as she watched Black Star’s group face off their opponents in handball. Any one would feel the same if they knew how much it hurt to be on the receiving end of his throws.

He was an awkward size. His neck was too long. His gym shirt reached below his waist. His feet were too small for the oversized shoes he had to wear before they were eventually too tight.

Middle school was not kind to tween boys, but neither was it for tween girls.

She was crossing her legs because of the darkened hair growing on her shins and hated the training bra that she had to wear despite not showing any signs of growth. In the locker room, she swears an eighth grader was showing off black lace under her shirt while rumors of a sixth grader wearing a thong spread like a virus.

Who knew what else they talked about in the boy’s room?

Though Black Star was a grade above hers, they had a joint seventh and eighth grade class during their PE period. It was fine to her— she could keep up with the best of them after all— but the girls were always hoping to get the attention of their counterparts, even his.

Boy-crazy, Maka rolled her eyes, sure that she wasn’t one of them.

The two classmates who sat beside her on the pavement giggled behind their hands. Maka listened in to their conversation as a fellow girl, but didn’t join their remarks about how each boy ‘scored’ on a one to ten scale. However, once they got to Star, Maka leaned in closer out of curiosity.

They judged him on his athletic abilities and how much hair gel he used compared to the other boys in his grade. Though he wasn’t going to win ‘Best Hair’ for the yearbook’s Hall of Fame, he had a running chance at winning ‘Class Clown.” He ran around with a catchphrase and got along with most people. By all accounts, even if he got a C in History and English, he was still a seven when most others were a six or five.

The girls asked Maka if she agreed, but she feigned disinterest and said that growing up around him had desensitized her. Not only that—he was still her height. But they were undeterred, attempting to convince her with a few other points that almost seemed like they had already previously thought their arguments.

Black Star was a team player, they said, but Maka countered that he liked being the best of the bunch. He does everything in his power to help people out, they said, but Maka referred to the times he made situations worse, not better.

Somewhere along the way, Maka agreed that she enjoyed his company somewhat, just as he approached and overheard just that one bit.

“You talkin’ ‘bout me, Maks?” he cocked his head to the side, foam ball tucked under his arm.

Maka heard a few giggles and was instantly irritated. The biases that those girls had were laughable themselves, but that wasn’t the issue; it was that Black Star was painfully oblivious to how annoying he was.

On the curve of his rounded cheeks, there was a developing lump of a pink pimple that rose when he smiled. Her eyes were drawn to it unwittingly— the pimple, not the smile.

“You wish,” she retorted, taking hold of his hand to help herself onto her feet. “We were just talking about how we’re going to crush your team.”

While she looked behind her as part of a girl code confirmation, the both of them gave each other a quick glance before dissolving back into teeters. Of course Maka would be the only female on their co-ed team who was interested in doing that, she realized belatedly.

Oblivious, as always, Black Star handed her the ball and announced that he had won their most recent victory. Her team would be just another one for the scoreboard.

Before she could turn away and ignite her competitive streak, he stopped her. He kindly said, “Your bangs are stuck to your sweat, squirt,” hand moving to correct it.

Fully aware of their audience and the shuffling of students on the blacktop, Maka stopped his hand from brushing back her hair, something she’d never done before. “I can do it myself.” And she did, walking away and ignoring the hurt he blatantly showed on his face.

Her team did not win the final round that day.

----------

On her graduation day, Black Star happily clapped as he watched Maka toss her cap into the air.

The summer evening was hot. He remembered his own being just as much. The orange and white robes were horrible school colors and trapped the heat under the folds. Even the stadium was devoid of a breeze, but the excitement of the graduates was unaffected.

Families began their way towards the center of the mass while a few kids separated away from their friends to push outwards. Sid texted Maka, ‘We’re going to the parking lot,” but Black Star knew that Maka wouldn’t see the message until she was cleared out by the security team.

Spirit cried into the flowers that he bought a day in advance; a few of the buds bloomed from the age while the rest did from the warmth. Mira patted him lightly on the shoulder and reminded him that they still had to take pictures, reaching into her fanny pack for a small bundle of tissues.

He blew his snot out loudly while Sid reminded Mira that she was equally a mess when Star graduated, too.

A good while after, Maka fumbled out with an array of ribbons and flower leis around her neck. It was clear she was looking for her decorated cap, but realized that it was forever lost like her bobby pins after prom. Upon seeing her family, Maka rushed with her arms open, uncharacteristically physically welcome, with her papa ready to meet her half way.

Black Star caught the flowers before they hit the ground, but Spirit paid no mind, crying all over again while Mira snapped pictures on her digital camera. Father and daughter stayed for a bit until Maka eventually pushed him away to hug the rest of her party, smiling widely with her family friends and eventually holding Black Star tightly around his middle.

“Congrats, squirt.”

He was finally taller than her. His chin rested easily on the top of her head, fitting nicely when she wanted to be close to him. They embraced long and soundly, rocking from side to side on their feet until Spirit blew his nose again.

Upon separating, Black Star handed Maka the flowers from Papa and joined the candy lei that previously hung from his arm with the rest of the celebratory gifts she had received throughout the night. Her sashes and tassels were drowned out by the weight. Even Sid gave her a lei decorated with carefully folded bills and kukui nuts.

“We have to recreate the picture we took last year!” Maka announced to Star, gesturing to Mira for help.

“First,” Mira said, “we need group photos.”

Sheepishly, Maka sobered down, hopeful for good shots to remember the day.

With her lowered energy, it gave Black Star the chance to really look at her. Maka wore her regalia proudly; the leis wrapped around her like a lion’s mane and made her look top heavy for once. She had her hair braided back to fit her now lost cap, and she was clearly sweating, not aware of it herself.

He absentmindedly reached to her head; the memory of doing so was dug too deeply for him to forget. He stopped just as she noticed, clenching his open hand into a fist to lower it, but Maka smiled and tilted her head towards him, familiarly. He hesitantly took a deep breath and continued slowly, just in case she changed her mind.

She didn’t.

He grazed her forehead with two fingers to tuck her sticky bangs behind her ear, clumsily but deliberately as though they were children. Maka was thankful for it, especially because she couldn’t reach her arms above her head due to her sleeves and her decor. She moved her head to the other side, naturally, wanting him to do the same again. Of course, Black Star relented, giving into the urge he had been fighting ever since he was still in school.

Sid broke the spell. “You look fine, Maks,” he assured. He held out his arm for a side hug while Spirit took his place on her left.

With her distracted, Black Star pulled out his last gift out of Mira’s tote bag that he had stowed away while everyone left the stadium. He had snuck into the center of the chaos while the other three left, following shortly after he claimed his prize. Because Maka had done it for him last year, he felt it was only right to return the favor.

Mira took the picture just at the right moment— when Star fitted Maka’s graduation cap on top of her head, complete with the tassel and all.

----------

Maka returned home for spring break. She was exhausted, half from her studies and half from her travel. Instead of properly setting up the futon in Star’s living room, she threw herself on top of the cushions in couch form, sighing deeply into the softness. There, she napped past her alarm and into the evening, not stirring when Star finally returned to his apartment after work.

Instead of going directly to college like many of their friends, he found employment in their local city. He never thought he’d be the type to like being stuck in one spot, close to where he grew up, but he took vacations and PTO often. Most of all, he visited Maka out of state and made sure that she always had a home away from home.

Black Star knew that she arrived close to noontime; he gave her permission to use the spare key that he mailed to her months ago when he moved in. What he didn’t expect was that her luggage was unpacked and laid as a tripping hazard at the front door. Seeing her head on the arm of the sofa, he wheeled in the suitcase into his room for her and took the chance to change into comfortable clothes.

Even after detouring to the bathroom, Maka was still fast asleep, comfortable and safe. She breathed heavily through her mouth, chest rising and falling, at peace. One hand rested on top of her stomach while the other hung from the edge of the couch, no doubt dropping after she turned off her alarm in her sleep.

She had a habit of doing that, Star remembered, amused. It was why she had to change the tune often and why keeping to a disciplined routine was important to her. In comparison, he had twelve alarms on his phone, each five minutes apart in order to slowly shake him awake. It drove her insane.

He decided to wake her up at six on the clock so they could grab dinner downtown. Easily, he touched her forehead and moved her bangs aside. He watched her movements carefully as she began to regain consciousness. Once she registered his face, she smiled and sat up slowly, yawning and rubbing her neck while she did.

“Fuck. You’re back already,” Maka said, voice cracked from sleep.

“It’s like six, Maks.”

“Welcome home.” She waved her hands quickly in place— jazz hands.

Star laughed, kneeling down at her level and propping his elbow on the cushion. His weight pressed down beside her. “You aren’t sleeping tonight with the nap you just had.”

“Keep me company, then. You’re good at all nighters.”

“I’ve gotten worse since you haven’t been around,” he admitted. Normally, Maka was rigid with her sleeping schedule. However when she was back, she spent as long as she could—every waking hour— at his side. “I did just have a full workday, so maybe you’ll just have to do it alone.”

She whined, “But, it’s tradition to stay up on the first night back!”

“Not if you cheated and snuck in an afternoon nap, squirt,” he grinned, resting his chin on his fist while she fell back against the armrest with a groan.

Maka had grown into her body just as Star had, and it was especially noticeable whenever they spent months apart at a time. When they reunited, sometimes, it was like he was looking at a whole new person— someone humbled and softened, challenged and forthcoming. Her clothes eventually changed to an adult look over the years, and she wore light makeup around her eyes.

There was a time when they fought bitterly over simple decisions, but later they learned to compromise and cherish. The days they could spend together were limited to stolen holidays because of Maka’s hectic schedule.

She was shy of twenty-three years old, already in grad school to earn her doctorate, while he wondered if he could keep up with her pace. He hoped he came across just a bit more mature in her eyes just the same.

Star began to play with her hair again, but along the way to the wisps, he spied just the smallest eyelash on her cheek. Using his thumb, he brushed it away, catching her attention.

He cleared his throat, continuing as though nothing had changed. “Let’s go, squirt,” he said. As he reached back to her bangs, she stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

Maka sat up quickly, revealing she was fully awake in that moment. She looked pained, her eyebrows scrunched in the middle, and she asked, “Blake, when will you treat me as a woman?”

He exhaled carefully. Treading lightly, he said, “Is this about the time I said you were like one of the bros?” He chuckled, “There’s no need to call me ‘Blake’ just for that.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she squeezed just a bit tighter. “You can’t be this dense.”

“Maka, you sound like you’re asking me—“ He saw the reminiscence of himself in her face— of a time before he knew to hide his emotions. “—about somethin’ else.”

She softly questioned, “What if I am?”

Star didn’t know when the shift completely transitioned themselves into uncertain territory. Maybe it was her first summer back as an undergrad, or maybe it was when they attended Senior Ball as each others’ date. Or maybe, just maybe, it was before even then.

Maka repeated the question in her head, unsure of how different it would sound to him. “Blake, am I a woman to you? Someone who will make you act as a man?”

“You’ve always been a woman,” he said, not thinking of the meaning behind his words, just that he was sure of what he felt.

When Maka sat up on the couch, fingers loose on his wrist, she was taller than he was. She looked down at him while he looked up, both aware of the closing distance between them.

“Then treat me like one,” she whispered, hand slipping down his arm.

He caught it in his, threading them together, joining their palms. “Should I? Can I?”

“You may,” her lips parted, hovering over him.

Star rose to his knees to cup her face, hand brushing her hair back behind her ears as he pulled her effortlessly towards him, kissing her lightly as she melted deep into his hold.

----------

Her hands tightened around the bouquet and she struggled to place one foot over the other on the way to her place. If Papa hadn’t been there to steady her, she would’ve fallen from weak knees some time ago. Speaking of which, Maka looked over to him.

She expected him to be emotional and wrecked. Instead, he stood proud, strength on his face and in arms. He could truly withstand the winds so long as it was for her sake, and so on her wedding day, he remained her pillar.

He asked if she was ready, and if she were being honest, the answer was no. Adrenaline flooded her system and she could hardly hear the cues. It was Spirit who willed her forward on time, up until she turned the corner to see Blake.

From then on, Maka walked to him— for him. She matched Papa’s pace perfectly, but her tunnel vision focused on her fiancé, soon-to-be-husband. Without her arm looped around Papa’s, surely, she would have already made her way to the altar much too early.

But if anything, it looked like Star wanted to go to her. He was on his toes, face relaxed with wonder. She was the only thing he could see, just as she only saw him. And once she reached him, he thanked her papa quietly, eyes never leaving her.

They could hardly listen to the ordained minister’s speech that welcomed their guests, and even worse, they stuttered on their vows when it became time to recite them. Both were much too nervous, giggling and promising silently to reread them privately later on.

When they were asked to repeat the joining words, the minister joked that it wouldn’t be difficult. The crowd laughed, but all awaited anxiously.

First it was Star. He recited, “I, Blake Barrett, take thee, Maka “Squirt” Albarn, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward…”

Then it was Maka. She recited, “I, Maka Albarn, take thee, Blake “Black Star” Barrett, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward…”

And once they were done and the rings in their place, he swept the veil away from her face, just as he did with her bangs as children, and he kissed her, finally.

#mastar #makaxblackstar #soul eater #maka x star #nessie spills

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magic-and-moonlit-wings · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 45: Fight, Fight, Fight!

Becoming The Mask

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Toby still couldn't lift the warhammer he'd originally picked out. Jim was relieved Toby finally seemed to be willing to admit that, and selected a one with a thinner, lighter head. The new weapon was too blunt to be an axe, but certainly axe-like in shape, and one that Toby was actually able to swing without falling over.

Jim had blunted the edges of the Sword of Daylight and the boys were – well, it wasn't really sparring. Jim was putting more effort into holding himself back than countering Toby's attacks.

"Easy on the flourishes," said Jim, when Toby twirled the hammer to build momentum. "You left your other side wide open."

"Jim right," said AAARRRGGHH, who sat on the sidelines. They'd bumped into him shortly after arriving in Trollmarket, and AAARRRGGHH had accompanied Jim and Toby to the Forge while Mary, Darci and Claire went to the library to get Blinky. "Fancy moves, not smart for real fights."

"What do you two think you're doing?" Blinky demanded, finally showing up. "Tobias, are you really attempting to spar with a weapon you only selected tonight? You need to accustom yourself to its weight and balance before facing an opponent!"

"Didn't you guys say Jim fought Draal on his first night with the sword?" asked Mary.

"Against my advisement," Blinky huffed. "Master Jim should have had weeks of training before being expected to actually wield Daylight."

"He went easy on me," said Jim. "Draal's totally strong enough to snap my neck one-handed," at least while Jim was human-shaped, "and he didn't even squeeze hard enough to crack my ribs."

It was easier to downplay their first match than to acknowledge his flashback to the Crucible.

"If Toby's tapping out, I'll spar with Jim," Claire offered. She went to the weapons rack, picked up what had become her preferred spear, and started warming up.

"I did offer Claire a match a while back." Jim meant this as a neutral statement, an agreement that he should spar with Claire soon. He realized, when Toby frowned at him, that his words implied agreement to switching opponents right away.

Toby, panting, swung his new hammer down to rest the heavy head on the ground and nodded. He went to the sidelines and let Claire take his place.

Jim didn't expect Claire to be much more of a challenge than Toby, but he thought it would be good for her to have a chance to stab a sharp object in his direction for while and vent some of her frustrations over Jim's part in the Enrique situation.

As a precaution, Jim closed his faceplate. The worst Toby's hammer could do was blunt-force trauma. Claire's spear could probably take out his eye.

"No kill-strikes?" said Jim.

"And no using your amour's forcefield thing."

They nodded to each other and raised their weapons.

Claire's first strike was aimed at Jim's face, as he'd expected. He blocked it with the flat of his sword. But Claire, clever girl, had been holding her spear near the middle – she rotated it, the sharp head swinging back and a length of steel ramming up into Jim's gronk-nuks.

Jim had adjusted his armour, when he learned how, so that he had more substantial protection around his crotch than a single layer of scale mail. He'd also taken to wearing a cup under his jeans.

He still staggered and let out a pained groan.

"You might want to stand more to the side when attempting that move in the future," Blinky called to Claire. "Your spearhead nearly grazed your face."

She turned her head towards Blinky. Jim took advantage of her distraction – she'd lowered her guard, thinking he was injured – and swung at her other side. He caught Claire just below her ribs with his sword edge.

"Ugh!" She staggered as well. "How was that not a kill-strike?"

"Sword's dulled. Basically a club right now. Didn't hit hard enough to do kidney damage." At least, he didn't think he had. Or, not permanently, right? Just a bruise?

She snarled and stabbed at his face again.

Claire launched a series of quick jabs at various parts of Jim, forcing him to step back and try to block her. She wasn't committing far enough into any single strike to actually hit him, he realized – driving him backwards was her goal. He darted to the side instead.

The humans still didn't have much in the way of armour. They wore elbow pads, shin pads, and bike helmets in the Forge, and around the market after some troll had bumped into Darci and knocked her into a stall of ointments purported to aid horn growth.

Jim hit Claire's upper arm, and used the recoil to swing Daylight in an arc and strike her thigh on the same side. She managed to catch her spear with her other hand instead of dropping it to the ground.

She struck a chink in his armour, where two plates on his abdomen joined for flexibility. This time, Jim's grunt of pain was genuine.

While Jim and Claire fought, Mary and Darci outlined the scrapbooking plan for Toby and AAARRRGGHH. Toby eagerly agreed to take part. AAARRRGGHH glanced Blinky's way. Blinky glanced back with two eyes, the other four watching the arena, and shrugged with his upper arms while wringing his lower hands.

After a few more minutes, Jim leaned a little too far into an attack and Claire was able to spin out of the way, catch his leg with her spear, and send him crashing to the ground.

"I yield," said Jim. "What's this about Vendel?"

"We're putting together stories about our families so he'll know who we're proposing to tell about trolls being real." Claire offered a hand and helped Jim to his feet. "Except apparently we're leaving Not Enrique out for now." Her lips stretched down and her hand tightened around his gauntlet before she let go.

He did like Claire's implication she considered Enrique part of her family now. Jim decided it was best not to draw attention to that.

"Well, yeah. If the goal is to set him at ease … He was way more upset Mr S was in Trollmarket than that Mom was, once he knew."

What with Barbara being unconscious when Vendel first saw her, and the news of Stricklander's identity being accompanied by news of Jim's identity. Jim still hadn't entirely forgiven Blinky for that.

"I could put stories about Mom in your book, too," Jim offered. "Since all Vendel really knows about her is that she wants to expose trolls to other humans. Oh, or he could come for dinner! Blinky, AAARRRGGHH, Mom suggested I should ask you guys to dinner sometime. She's trying to be open-minded about the whole, you know, troll thing, and meeting you again when she actually knows it's coming seems like a good way to help her get used to you as, you know, people."

Technically she had only mentioned Blinky, but Jim suspected AAARRRGGHH would end up coming anyway, so it would be simplest if Jim were to expand the invitation.

He probably also ought to set a cap at four trolls, though. Draal would likely come up from the basement for the meal, and the house was only so big.

Blinky and AAARRRGGHH looked at each other again.

"Think about it," AAARRRGGHH agreed.

"I'll admit to a curiosity about the human custom of 'dinner parties'," said Blinky slowly. "Ah, but for now, we really should focus on your training."

Claire bolted for the rim of the Forge before Blinky could start it up. Jim ran a gauntleted hand along the length of his sword, resharpening Daylight.

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"Master Jim," said Blinky quietly, once physical training was over and they'd adjourned to the library. "There are two matters I'd like to discuss privately. It shouldn't take long."

Jim followed Blinky into the side room where the six-eyed troll had given him The Talk not long ago.

"Firstly, I of course will discuss it further with AAARRRGGHH, but I suspect we shall accept your mother's invitation. Please extend our thanks to her, and inquire as to when would be a convenient night. Secondly, it will do Claire's training no good if you simply let her win."

"… What gave that away?"

"I've watched you train for months, Master Jim. I'm very observant, and you aren't that clumsy or slow. And if you were having an 'off day', you would have been more challenged by the Forge."

"… This match wasn't about training. Claire resents me for Enrique being swapped. Giving her a victory over me should help her get over that."

Blinky frowned. His eyes were drifting in various directions, like he was searching for a counterargument but not sure which issue to press.

"I'm not saying it's an instant fix," Jim clarified, "but she got to vent and she got to feel like she got a little bit of revenge in a way that ultimately didn't cause harm to anyone else. Pushing away anger isn't as effective as working through it."

Barbara had borrowed a number of self-help books from the library about a month after James left. Jim, in his quest to read every book in the Lake house, had gotten through most of them before she took them back.

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Barbara needed, very badly, to vent. She was frustrated and confused and overwhelmed and bitter and guilty, and she couldn't even talk to anyone about it because she'd promised to keep trolls a secret.

Jim knew she knew, but it wouldn't be fair to complain to Jim about her struggles with adjusting to this new reality. A responsible parent did not put such a heavy issue on their child. Furthermore, she didn't trust herself not to say something cruel to him if she really got going.

So instead, Barbara planned to channel her feelings into painting. There was nothing so cathartic as throwing a bunch of paint at canvas and not even caring how it ended up looking. Then, once she calmed down, she could try expressing some of her perspective on trolls and worries about the future. She could be so much more articulate with paint sometimes than she was with words.

She'd dug her paints and brushes out of her closet, buried behind clothes she hardly ever had a chance to wear now that she spent most of her time in scrubs.

If memory served, she should still have some canvases down in the basement. Canvas was expensive. She wouldn't have just thrown it out.

Barbara went downstairs to search for canvas, and found a troll behind her furnace.

She'd seen something back there covered by a tarp, and pulled the tarp aside, and come face-to-snout with him. He was tall and broad and blue and spiky, with big round red and yellow eyes that got even bigger and rounder when he saw her.

She barely noticed this until she was already spraying him with pepper spray.

Apparently it worked on trolls.

Barbara was screaming. The troll was roaring. She didn't hear the door burst open, but it must have, because then Jim, who hadn't been home, was charging downstairs, shining armour glowing into existence around him.

"MOM–!"

Startled, Barbara turned and caught him with the pepper spray as well.

"AAAAHHH! The one time the faceplate doesn't show up!" He squinted through building tears. "Draal?"

"What is this poison?" the troll shouted.

"Pepper spray, it's a self-defence thing – Mom, it's okay, he's a friend!"

Barbara managed to stop screaming and tried to let go of the button on the pepper spray. She ended up dropping the canister. It rolled somewhere.

The troll was still half-draped in the tarp he'd used to camouflage himself. There was a blanket on the floor behind him, and a glowing crystal, several food containers, a few spears, and a wicked-looking axe.

"Uh … Mom, this is Draal," said Jim, rapidly blinking. "You met him in Trollmarket. Or, did I not get around to introducing him? You saw him, anyway. He was in the library with us."

"What is he –?" Barbara redirected her question to the troll. "What are you doing in our basement?"

Draal was rubbing at his eyes. "I volunteered to guard this dwelling from threats in the Trollhunter's absence. Though I see now that it is well-protected already."

"You're rubbing it in," said Jim. "I'll get some milk. The lipids bond with the capsaicin in the pepper oil, so milk flushes it out better than water."

Barbara grabbed Jim's arm before he could leave her alone with this strange, injured troll and his weapon collection. "You rented out our basement? When was this?"

In the Trollhunter's absence … Had Draal moved in when Barbara kicked Jim out?

"A few months ago? And technically he's not renting. He doesn't pay me anything – well, services rendered, with the protection. So maybe it is renting? But he'd protect wherever he was living anyway – Mom, please, my eyes really hurt, just let me get the milk and we'll talk after?"

Of course she let him go. They all went upstairs and Jim raided the fridge. There was a half-full carton, and a full one. Jim and Draal took turns leaning over the sink and pouring milk over their eyes.

"So. Draal." Barbara did not enjoy having to keep her voice level. This was supposed to be her time to unwind and be unleashed, not restrain herself. "Who exactly are you?"

"I am Draal the Deadly," he said proudly, "Draal the Destroyer, son of Kanjigar and Ballustra."

What reassuring titles, she thought sarcastically.

"Kanjigar was the Trollhunter before me," Jim added. "Draal expected to be the next one, so he's been training me."

"I thought Blinky was your trainer?"

"Yeah, he is, but Draal is too. Less officially."

"How many trainers do you have?"

Jim frowned and started counting. "Blinky and AAARRRGGHH, obviously, Draal, maybe Vendel, not sure if he counts, Stricklander definitely, and … I'm going to leave other Changelings off the list and just say five."

"What about the last Trollhunter?" Barbara frowned. Jim and Draal both flinched.

"The Amulet chooses a new Trollhunter when the last one is felled," said Draal, in a surprisingly soft voice for such an intimidating figure.

"Remember how I said the Trollhunter can't quit?" said Jim, also softly.

"… Oh." Barbara cleared her throat and managed to say to Draal, "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you."

There was an awkward pause. Barbara changed the subject.

"So if Draal's been living in our basement for months, and we've 'met', why am I only learning about this now?"

"After you … asked for some space, I was worried someone else might come after you to get to me." Jim was looking determinedly at the blender. "You couldn't tell Draal not to protect you if you didn't know he was here."

Barbara's teeth clenched. Dear God, she needed her painting break.

"Jim, we've – discussed – respecting personal autonomy? Part of that is deciding for myself if I want a live-in bodyguard."

"I know." His gaze dropped to the floor. "I was scared for you, so I ignored that you're an adult and able to make your own decisions, and that was wrong of me. I should have told you about Draal. Then you wouldn't have been scared and pepper sprayed him."

"Do you honestly believe we're in enough danger to need a guard?"

Barbara meant it rhetorically. Jim had emphasized that trolls tried to keep themselves hidden from humans. That implied they weren't likely to come into a human neighbourhood and attack a human house.

She did not expect Jim to immediately nod.

"I don't think it's possible to make one's home too safe," he said earnestly.

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Previous Chapter (Mary, Darci, and Claire talk to Bagdwella, Not Enrique, and Blinky - not all at once - about the scrapbooking idea)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (Blinky and AAARRRGGHH come over for dinner)

The semantic debate over whether Draal is renting the basement is inspired by Changing light by @eurydykakaput. In Chapter 2, Jim confronts his stepfather Walter about 'renting' the basement out. In Walter's defense, in that timeline, Draal didn't even move in to protect the Trollhunter's family. After Draal tried to beat the new Trollhunter up, Walter ended up comforting Draal over Kanjigar's recent death, and invited him over for tea and a longer talk, and Draal just sort of … never left.

A Fantastic Upheaval by a3rie (on AO3; Kiss of the Breeze on FFnet) also involves Barbara discovering Draal living in the basement, as the starting point for canon divergence.

#Becoming The Mask chapters #Trollhunters #Changeling Jim #My Fanfiction #fight scenes #Tobias Domzalski #Claire Nuñez #Dr Barbara Lake #Draal #Tales of Arcadia #AAARRRGGHH #Blinkous Galadrigal #Darci Scott #Mary Wang #Monday is fanfic day!#also #fanfic recommendation #reference links

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four-of-diamonds-au · 5 years ago

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Chapter 1: Gem Glow for Two

Steven ran back to his house under the Temple. The twelve year-old boy was carrying a small freezer strapped to his back by the cord, humming to the pace of every step. Earlier that day he’d found out that the Big Donut, one of his favorite places to get sweet snacks, had stopped carrying Cookie Cat, his favorite ice cream sandwich. Giving in to the boy’s crying, Sadie had offered to let him take the freezer home as a souvenir.

As Steven took a turn around the large cliff, the giant stone temple looming over his normal-looking house became visible, surrounded by the vast view of the ocean. As he kept running, his sandals making small tapping sounds on the sand, he noticed something unusual about the landscape.

The ruins of the arms and hands that had fallen off the multiple-armed giant woman-shaped temple were all there as usual. The beach looked exactly how it always did during a low tide… With one exception.

Next to one of the broken stone hands buried in the sand, there was someone standing. The figure of a girl with short, spiky brown hair and a short complexion became evident as he drew closer. She seemed to be leaning onto the rocky hand, trying to get sand out of her sneakers.

“Hi!”, Steven called out. It was quite unusual for anyone to approach the temple, let alone someone he’d never seen in Beach City before.

The girl turned around rapidly, apparently startled. She didn’t seem to have noticed as the boy approached her, and took a defensive stance in a moment. “Uh, hi.”, she replied while noticing she now had sand on her foot, which was covered by dark brown tights. She sighed.

“Are you new around here? Did you get lost? Not a lot of people come to this part of the beach!”, Steven tried to strike up a conversation.

“Yes, no, and I had already figured that out from how hidden this place is. Do you live here, by any chance?”

The boy was slightly taken aback by the incredibly direct reply, but since she didn’t seem like she was being blunt on purpose he replied.

“Yeah, that’s my house! I’m Steven, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Audrey.”, she replied. “If you’re the boy who lives in that house, then you must be… You know...”

Steven tilted his head , puzzled, but kept smiling.

“Alright, I suppose I’d better explain what I’m doing here and all that. I’d heard rumors about a kid who lived here in Beach City in a house under a temple -- that would be you. Those rumors said you, and the people who live with you here are… magical?”

Steven beamed upon hearing these words. “That’s right! I live here with the Gems, they’re all awesome and have really great powers and I… well, I’ve got my own gem too”, he said as he lifted his shirt to show a pink, shiny gemstone placed where his navel would normally be, “but it doesn’t do a lot yet. The Gems told me I got it from my mom when she gave birth to me. They all speak really highly of her… I hope I’ll be able to use magic too, someday!”

Audrey stared in silence as she listened to Steven. She seemed intrigued by his pink navel gemstone. “What about your mom? Does she live with you too?”

Steven didn’t seem to know what to say for a moment. “Well… She gave up her physical form to give birth to me. I never got to meet her, actually. All I know is that I have her gem. But ah, my dad always tells me all of this is really hard to understand for humans… I’m sorry if this is weird or confusing! Anyway, she isn’t around anymore. Why did you wanna know?

“That’s odd…” she said as she scratched her chin for a moment, then looking back up at Steven. “Oh, but don’t worry! Actually, I know a bit of what you’re trying to tell me… I’m not exactly a normal kid either.”

She used two of her chubby fingers to lower the collar of her t-shirt a little. It was then that Steven saw it, a reflected yellow light that had no business being under a young girl’s shirt. It was bright and faceted, a gem much like his own.

“Whoa-- WHOAAAAAA, YOU’RE A GEM TOO?!”

“Shh, there’s no need to shout!” she said, taking a step back as she cringed slightly. “I’m not sure I’d call myself a Gem, but I sure do have one. That’s why I came here… I figured maybe you were like us. Seems like I was right.”

“Us?” Steven asked after scratching his head in embarrassment over the girl’s reaction to his loud exclamation. “What do you mean with that?”

“Oh, right. He’s not here right now, but I have a brother. He has a gem on his chest as well. But… we do have our mom. That’s the only person who’s raised us, actually. She seems to be a full gem, but my bro and I need to sleep and eat just like humans. If you’re half-human and we’re the same, that would explain a lot.”

“Yea, the Gems always told me that my human half means I need to sleep and eat unlike them. But wow, there’s even one more person like us? Your brother? I can’t believe it! Having a sibling must be so cool!”

The boy’s eyes seemed to gleam like stars as he spoke those last few words. He was so excited, next thing Audrey noticed he was grabbing her wrist and taking her in the direction of the temple.

“I’ve gotta tell the gems about you, they’re not gonna believe it!!”, he exclaimed. His voice was already getting tired as he was half-dragging her across the beach at this point. She stumbled behind him, still somewhat confused about how fast he’d made that decision.

“Guys, you’re not gonna believe this!!” he yelled as he slammed the door open. Right then, he stopped on his tracks with Audrey behind him as he observed what was going on.

A green and black insectoid creature leaped towards them but was skillfully wrapped in a whip and pulled back by a short, purple-skinned girl. “Sup, Steven!” said Amethyst.

The three gems were inside the house fighting a lot of these strange green and black creatures. With a jaw-dropping combination of grace and skill, they kept fighting off the creatures and making them vanish in clouds of olive-colored smoke.

Audrey peeked over Steven’s shoulder, her eyes now glimmering like Steven’s had before. “Woooooooow, is your place like this all the time??”

“No… Not usually…” he replied, recovering from the surprise.

“Sorry Steven”, said Pearl as she held onto one of the creatures, “we’ll get these centipeedles out of your room in no time.”

“Aww, we don’t have to get rid of them! They look cool!” the boy said, just as the centipeedle Pearl was holding spat out a mouthful of corrosive green goop from its jaws. Steven nodded and stood back.

“Hey you guys? These things don’t have gems!” Amethyst noted.

“That means there must be a Mother somewhere.”, Garnet collectedly replied.

Steven gave Audrey the freezer on his back, much to her dismay and dodged a few of the remaining monsters to get to his combined fridge, which was now open. He took a centipeedle out of it, which knocked over a bottle of milk. Then, he looked up into the freezer as he complained about the creatures getting everywhere. Suddenly, his eyes stoped over a familiar-looking pile of packages.

“Are… are these…?”

“Well, we heard they weren’t going to make any more and since they’re your favorite…” replied Pearl.

“...we went out and STOLE a bunch!!” Amethyst interrupted. “Just like Steven’s been stealing some hearts today! Why dont’cha introduce us to your girlfriend over there, Steven?”

“I went back and paid for them.” Pearl retorted, irritated. “But who’s your little friend, Steven?”

“This is Audrey, I met her on the way here! This is great, now we could share some Cookie Cats!”

“Actually, I like Lion Lickers…” Audrey replied. “But thanks for the offer! And these people must be the Gems who live with you?”

“That’s right.” said Garnet.

“They don’t even look like lions!!” Steven complained, stubbornly putting a Cookie Cat in Audrey’s hand. He then sang the advertisement song happily. “He’s a frozen treat with an all new taste...”

The two children began to eat the ice cream, Audrey actually smiling openly for the first time since she met Steven. “They’re no Lion Lickers, though!”, she joked.

This time Steven didn’t answer. Him and the Gems were focusing on a strange pink glow that enveloped the room… coming from his gemstone.

“Quick, try to summon your weapon!” Amethyst told him.

Audrey looked puzzled. Weapon?

Steven focused hard, as hard as he could, but as quickly as it began the glow started to vanish. No signs of a weapon. “Aw man, I was so close! Could you guys teach me how to summon your weapons?”

“Can I tag along?” Audrey asked. “Promise I won’t get in the way!”

The children followed the Gems around as they attempted to explain how they summoned their weapons, but all of their methods were too confusing and contradicted each other. They went back without any results, however.

“Maybe my best bet is to recreate the last time my gem glowed!” Audrey gave Steven an unsure nod, but a nod nonetheless. With her reassurance, he tried to get everyone in the exact same positions they were in when his gem glowed. He tried to sing the song in a hurry, but missed a lot of the lyrics and nothing happened.

“Aw man, it was funnier the last time!” he complained, then sighed. “Maybe I’m not a real Crystal Gem.”

He glanced quickly at Audrey, who looked down to where her own gem was. She was silent but her eyes were clouded with disappointment. Did that mean half-gems couldn’t utilize any amazing powers?

“Don’t be silly, Steven. Of course you are!” reassured Pearl.

“And you’re fun to have around, even if your gem IS useless!”, Amethyst started before Pearl gnarled at her. “I mean… you’re one of us, Steven! We’re not the Crystal Gems without you!”

Garnet nodded.

“You’re right… I may not have powers, but I’ve still got… COOKIE CAT!!” the boy replied as he took a large bite out of the ice cream sandwich.

As he munched, the gemstone on his navel began to glow even brighter than before. Without Steven realizing it as he munched on ice cream, a pink rotating shield was projected from within his gem and to the outside.

In shock, Audrey and the Gems stared silently for a few moments. Pearl broke the silence.

“Steven… It’s a shield!”

Opening his eyes to find his weapon floating in front of him, Steven was overcome by excitement. “I get a shield? OOOH YEAH!!”

As he jumped in joy, the shield was released from his gem’s pull and flew off, bouncing around the house for a while until it landed on -- and broke -- the TV. Amethyst laughed.

“I summon my weapon by eating ice cream!!”, Steven concluded. Audrey stared at the one in her hand that she’d saved from before, unsure. Her gem hadn’t even glowed a tiny bit from eating it. Maybe there was a specific food that worked for her?

“What’s in these things?”, Pearl wondered as she picked up Steven’s package.

Suddenly, a rumble took over the house and a long silhouette with a mane and many legs passed through the translucent blinds. “It’s the Mother!!”, Garnet exclaimed as she jumped outside to fight the creature.

The other two gems followed, attempting to subdue the creature with their weapons and powers. Alone with Audrey, Steven began to collect a lot of extension cables from around the house.

“What are you doing?”, she asked, hanging her shoulders.

“I’m gonna fight too! With the help of Cookie Cat!!”

He plugged in the small freezer he’d gotten that morning, stuffed all the remaining Cookie Cats into it and rushed back outside. Upon seeing him, the Gems panicked.

He set down the freezer on the floor, a confident gaze in his eyes. He threw a stone at the centipeedle’s head, took out one Cookie Cat, and ate it in a couple bites.

His powers didn’t activate, and the centipeedle still had the Gems under heavy attack. Steven ate one Cookie Cat after another, hoping for his shield to return, but to no effect. Reaching the last Cookie Cat, he stood there unsure on what to do next. That’s when a stray spill of green acid hit the freezer.

Steven fell on his knees, desolate. Not only had he eaten through his whole stash of Cookie Cats instead of saving them for when he actually wanted them, but now his mini freezer was also destroyed. Angry, he called out to the centipeedle. He grabbed the cable that kept the freezer plugged to the house’s electric installation, spun the short-circuiting freezer around and threw it at the monster to give it an electric shock. Centipeedle froze in pain for a few brief moments, buying the Gems enough time to counterattack.

Audrey stood silently on the deck as the fight unfolded. She’d never seen a fight like that in her life. However, one thing stood out. When Steven gave the monster an electric shock, she felt the electric current as it passed through the many cables next to her. That sensation of static, the electric shock she watched from a distance, they all felt… familiar.

Steven made a small hole where he buried the package of the last Cookie Cat, adorning it with a small leaf on top. It seemed like a small grave.

“Dude, are you crying?” Amethyst asked.

“Only a little!!”, the boy replied as he bawled his eyes out. The Gems and Audrey gathered around him.

“Well, I guess my powers don’t come from ice cream…”

“Maybe, but you were right. These were better than Lion Lickers!” Audrey commented. “I want to punch whoever decided to stop making them!”

The group laughed together. As Audrey chuckled, a yellow glow enveloped the area around them. She took a short moment to notice it, and immediately stood still as the yellow light peeking from underneath her shirt gleamed fiercely.

“Audrey! You’re glowing too!!”, Steven pointed out.

“I… I am!!”

Pearl opened her eyes wide, shocked. “It… can’t be! There were no other survivors, Rose checked everywhere when she was still with us...”

“Steven, why didn’t you tell us your new friend is a Gem?”, Garnet asked with a hint of nervousness in her otherwise calm voice.

“I was going to, but then all the Centipeedles and Cookie Cat… I didn’t have the opportunity to make her introduction as dramatic as it ought to be!”

Audrey helf back a chuckle. “I’m also not a regular Gem. I came here to Beach City looking for Steven because I think my brother and I are like him.”

Amethyst seemed amazed. “To think someone like Steven DID exist this whole time!!”

Steven turned back around holding onto his stomach, having just vomited from excessive consumption of Cookie Cats. “Yeah, I was surprised too! Speaking of which, where are your mom and brother right now?”

“Siblings? And they have a mother…?”, Pearl whispered to herself.

“They’re looking around the remains of Ocean Town right now. While I came here to find you, they’re also looking for another kid our age about whom a bunch of rumors also circulated. I came here alone, but my brother is too afraid of looking through a deserted area so Mom went with him.”

Steven nodded in understanding. “So, what are you going to do now that you’ve found me?”

“I’m supposed to wait here for their return with or without the other one of us, but… I didn’t expect this place to be such a small community. There’s no hotels or inns or anywhere to stay…”

“What if you stayed here at the temple?”, Suggested Steven.

“Steven, she can’t stay at the temple.” Garnet bluntly replied.

“What? Why?! Are we gonna leave her just hanging with no place to stay?”

Amethyst put a smug look on her face. “Well, we barely know her so letting her in the temple is too sudden, but… I could ask Vidalia if she’s got room for another kid for a few days!”

“Vidalia? Onion’s mom?”

Amethyst nodded. “Audrey here will be in good hands with Vidalia’s family for sure! When her mom and brother show up we can think of something else. How’s that?”

Pearl hesitated. “Well, that IS safer than bringing her into the temple for now…”

Garnet nodded pensively. “That’s definitely the better solution for now. Vidalia probably won’t mind, either.”

“I’ll take her there, then! See you in a bit, guys!” Amethyst waved as she put her other hand on Audrey’s shoulder. “C’mon, girl! If we hurry, maybe they’ll have extra dinner made for you as well!”

Audrey blushed, truly feeling that she was going to be a shameless freeloader. Steven caught her gaze again when he extended a hand to her.

“So… Cookie Cat buddies?”

“Cookie Cat buddies!” she shook his hand with a smile, leaving by Amethyst’s side.

☆

#steven universe #su #su au #steven universe au #steven AUniverse #4 of diamonds #four of diamonds

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chroma-asks · 6 years ago

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Out-of-Context Chroma System Quotes

(Good luck guessing who said what if you don’t already actively know)

-Motherfuckin’ Spaghetti-O rectum

-Candied baboon ass

-You wouldn’t happen to have a blow torch, would you? (Followed by) The fuck do I look like, an inventor?

-Would you care for some hot grapes…?

-Pls don’t snu-snu the puppet

-Carbonara bananas

-A meme cowboy who says “Yeetthot”

-What if we had an alter named Bacon

-Skyward Sword isn’t bad, it’s just that the boy’s nose is stupid

-Weiss needs more buttcheeks to fill in for her many assholes

-You ever sit and think that battering rams were probably actually designed to look like dicks but history books didn’t like that?

-Fuck me vibrating spider

-It has a daddy kink and hit on Cthulhu, I’m gonna call it what I want

-I put the romance in ‘necromance’

-Go eat Donald Trump’s toenail clippings

-If you say ‘hachacha’ one more time I’m ripping off your dumb nose to put ice cream into

-Hail the Irish, bitch.

-Yes, please don’t ruffle my onesie, it’s Gucci.

-Stop eating all the orange flavored candies you pathetic weenie

-That’s like eating a burrito on Taco Tuesdays

-How are you doing that you have no pupils

-So If Orion walks around without a shirt, he’s completely naked

-You know your house has thin walls when you can hear grandma farting in the bathroom

-So the plural for tooth is teeth like foot with feet. So why isn’t the plural for boot…. beet?

-Gwen puts the “tit” in “competition”

-(in reference to the crusades)Ye Olde Mosh Pit

-Considering Damon’s been harkin’ Harold’s balls all week, I’d assume the latter

-We’re going on the road to El Dorito

-61 vagànias

-What’s this, the Cryptid Lottery?

-That’s it, I’m calling CPS…….Clown Protective Services

-They are seriously playing Blurred Lines in this old people dance club

-Make your ballet shoes 99.9% better by installing syringes filled with chemo in the back

-Black holes are like the Cotton Eye Joe of space. Where do they come from and where do they go

-Wouldn’t it suck if hurricanes and tornadoes were 96% gas?

-Imagine if Vague’s name was pronounced “vagoo”

-PAKA YOU CANNOT NICKNAME JELOSE “JELLO HENTAI” I SWEAR TO GOD

-Anything is mayonnaise when you put your mind to it

-Hhhhhh smells like gonorrhea

-So wait if YOU’RE me, and I’M me, then who’s piloting the flesh jaeger???

-It’s Meat Time™️

-I dance like a freshly peeled lizard

-If I punch a blunt out of someone’s mouth does that make me a weed-whacker?

-“If we get mistaken for an anime enough do you think somebody out there might write an Mpreg fanfic about Damon” “Dear god I hope not”

-I am become symbiote

-If Naraku can also spin webs can he knit a sweater too????

-REPTILES ARE ASLEEP DO ALL THE THINGS NOW

-Beans beans the good for your heart, the more you eat the more you…… love your girlfriend

-Silence you lesser potato

-So I know beefcake is supposed to refer to really muscly dudes but what is it actually like is it a cake made entirely out of beef or is it a cake shaped like a beef

-My love for cheese is canon

-TASTEY MAN

-That really peels my grapes

-Mom said it’s my turn on the flesh jaeger

-Fish-slapping has an entirely new meaning when it’s Damon and Mero going on a date

-Hello would you like to purchase some salmonella

-You must add the phlegm

-Please don’t put your dick in the Christmas water

-The fuck is a ceviche

-By process of elimination…. you are a bitch.

-You are the Mac to my cheese

-It’s the cloaca.

-SOMEBODY HELP TORY’S BEEN HIT WITH SEXY BITCH DISEASE

-Hey just poppin’ in to let you know the Bethesda thing is happening again, k thanks I love u

-Because stabby stabby blood freezy

-sumfin smlel liek toileeeeeeet

-do you want the beesing phuckchurger or not

-I vote we get a pole cause I wanna be the Lord of the Dance 2, Stripper Edition

-don’t forget to water your Satan

-funky funky chunky chunky, monkey butter pet a bee, beep beep sheep sheep, I’m a baby don’t bite me

-No you absolutely canNOT name my theme “Icy London Icy France”

-What is a serial killer but a humble door-to-door death salesman?

-“Deep-fried for your pleasure” “Only the finest of dildas for our resident slut~”

-Take me down to the paradise city where the cows are green and the grass has tiddy

-“An all nutter” you mean a bukkake

-They gonna make us eat at home like some dirty commoner???

-What was that one Disney movie? Humpback of Notre Dame?

-There is no Iceland, only California 2, Electric Boogaloo

-What if the Earth wasn’t actually rotating, it’s all just water currents pushing the continents at a steady pace

-“Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s gasoline”“what the fuck”

-What am I, a BDSM version of a Tickle Me Elmo?

-Fanmade STDs

-Naraku, or as I like to call him; Prime Minister of Sluttington

-Take my gratitude and shove it up your ass

-The inside doctor listens to your insides, the outside doctor listens to your outsides because he forgot to use anesthetics

-Like and subscribe to die instantly

-Have you accepted Beefus as your lord and savior

-Go eat one(1) entire lettuce you fuck.

-up the shut slut

-Where there’s a will, there’s a gay

-WHAT DO YOU MEAN POODLES AREN’T A TYPE OF SHEEPDOG?? THEY’RE THE SHEEPIEST LOOKING MOTHERFUCKERS OF THE DOG WORLD

-I don't know if I wanna do the smashing or the mowing. Either way, your ass is grass

-Treat him gently, he’s just a meatball

-I refuse to believe I know big words

#chroma #chroma system #osdd1b #osdd #other specified dissociative disorder #actuallymultiple #actuallytraumagenic #actuallyosdd #systematicpride #alters #fictives #I know many of you who already follow us have seen all of these before #I(Rika) grouped them all together for new people to see just what they're dealing with #about

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namjoonchronicles · 7 years ago

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Autumn – [BTS] Yoongi!Au

[A/N] Song: Dead Leaves by Prod. Min Suga.

“Autumn is really at its height now, look at all the dead leaves on the street.” Mother huffed.

Who’d knew that cracking eggs could be so therapeutic?

Two. Three, and four eggs into the large bowl. Until Yoongi’s mother handed you a large fork as she past, and her voice intruded your thoughts. “…The infamous egg roll we’ve all missed. I never thought I would be tasting that again.” She smiled fondly at the onion she peeled and chopped them into halves. You grinned sheepishly, feeling kind of proud that they’ve spoken about it even when you’re not there. The last time they ate it, was at least three to four years ago. “I’m going to make it extra delicious today, with little bits of sausages,” you started whisking gently.

“…Do you need salt?” You heard her asked and replied a simple nod. “…It’s been awhile since we do this, isn’t it?” She proceeds to chop the onions thinly next, before moving to the carrots. Then she inhaled and exhaled deeply, as if she had been thinking a lot if she should say this or not, but knowing you since you were a teenager, she didn’t hesitate. “… Why can’t Yoongi just date you? You’re smart. You know how to cook. You’re absolutely adorable.” She blinked to the blade and your smile thinned a bit, as if you know how she feels about it. That unfortunate feeling. “…Mom,” you affectionately called her, even if you were not blood-related. The relationship you shared is as close as the one a mother and a daughter would share. “…Everyone has their own type. Yoongi has his. We don’t have to be in a relationship for this to happen… Didn’t you say he brought some of them home to you? The girls,” You prepared the skillet on the stove and turned the heat on before sprinkling some oil on them.

“He dated a few girls. I don’t think it was dating. More like, how should I put it?” Yoongi’s mother pauses before snapping her head up when she had the word in her head and out her lips, “…Passing time.” You snickered lightly. You never understood people who has a relationship in order to pass time. You’ve always thought that relationship are something very intimate between two individuals, and if the relationship is because of love and affection, then it should have preceded to marriage. That is the very objective of dating—to be married. “How were they like?” You thought changing the subject would divert the attention from you but Yoongi’s mother wasn’t intending to leave you behind just yet. “…Just pretty.” You snorted at her answer and she giggled along with you. “Ah! Mother! That’s not very nice.” Your wrist rotated the pan to let oil even out before you take the bowl filled with whisked egg.

You pour the entire amount into the pan at medium heat. The sizzling sound filled the living room, and down the hallway of Yoongi’s apartment. The laughter died down. “But it’s true. That’s all they were. Just…pretty.” Mother laid her knife to rest and leaned her back to the counter watching you at work, expertly controlling the stove and pan. Hair tight in a messy bun, dashing to the counter to grab the chopped onions and bell peppers. “…But boys will be boys, mother.” You stated and turned to her and her puppy eyes, begging for what you already knew. Her gazes spoke louder than words, just pleading.You had to break contact, and stared at your feet, shaking your head lightly, “…Would you want him to be with someone he doesn’t like? I mean, it’s Yoongi.” You shrugged your shoulder, turn off the stove, and then goes leaning against the counter, oppose to Yoongi’s mother.

“…I want Yoongi to be happy. What matters most, is that.” Your eyes slide to hers slowly and you tilted your head to the side, smiling, hoping to mend her heart by it. “…What a fine daughter-in-law you’ll make to someone, one day,” she murmured, and averting her eyes and body to resumed chopping green onions, and, “…I’m already jealous of her.” The front door beeped open, and before you could even see his face, he was mumbling through a short walkway approaching the kitchen. Paper bags in arms, a couple of fruits, heavy footsteps with socks, muttering, “I had to go all the way downtown, because the convenient store downstairs? They ran out of meat. I bought watermelon and some honeydew.” He placed them all on the counter. “…Did you get the flower beetroot?” You inched next to him as he got rid of his jacket. He looked down and nodded on the list you wrote. “This one was a bit tricky. Who’d knew there was so many types of mushroom?” Yoongi whined and his lips becomes pouty, like always. You giggled, and start to organize the things. “It’s your turn now.” You said to him, passing him a bowl. “…Braised spicy seafood? It’s my time now? Let me wash my hands.” He started rolling up his sleeves and a flash came from mother’s direction. “You two really looked like a married couple.” She excited safe the photo from her phone and Yoongi started groaning in dissatisfaction, “…Mother! We are handling serious issue here. Is this the time to take pictures?”

You pinched him by the sleeve and urged him to go wash his hands quickly instead of bickering with his mother and he wordlessly go. “I have to do the squids right? Take out the guts and everything?” He asked while drying his washed hands. You nodded while taking a bite from the cookie in his hand, he took the rest of the unbitten piece in his mouth like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “…You need to strip the squid and wash the guts off. The tentacles needs to be skewed with your nail. That’s where most of the dirt are,” before exclaiming in full-mouth, “Is this soft cookie from Betty’s Cookie Jar shop?” Yoongi took the knife from Mother’s chopping board and started to clean the squids, nodding. You turned your head up to where Mother is, but she disappeared to the hallway with her phone, “…How small do you want your squid?” Yoongi’s question made you resumed plating the eggrolls on a cute plate.

“Bite-size.” You shot. Yoongi’s lips protruded as he focused. “How’s work?” He asked, and you clicked your tongue immediately, right after. “I think I have my answers.” He smacked his lips together and slightly nodded while you throw your head back, laughing. “We agreed not to talk about work on this fine weekend!” You scolded him, slapping his arm playfully. “…I went on a blind date…” You started. “Oh?” Yoongi replied, his smile is gone and all that’s left is that stoned expression as he gathered his squid into a plate. You took the pot from the side and placed them on the stove. “Yeah. He was nice.” You recalled. The guy wore loose white Polo shirt with jeans. He had this ridiculously gorgeous smile and an expensive wrist watch that he made sure, was seen by you. Or maybe you were a bit sceptical.

You also remembered that he liked reading. He was reading when you came. And you noticed that he was honest, too. Provided in the way you eyed his phone when a message came he promptly answered your questioning eyes with a blunt, unpretentious, “…A notification about a book I ordered. It says it’s coming tomorrow.” He gave you that same smile again, and you nibbled the piece of meat from your fork. “…You know, you’re the first girl I’ve ever went on a date with, who ordered steak instead of salads.” He tips his head back then to the side, as if he had been contemplating to say it, all this time you were here. “I like my steaks.” You gushed, shamelessly and the twinkle in his eyes tells you that it wasn’t something he would be despised of, but yet, something he actually adored.

“It’s a compliment! It’s really a compliment,” he showed his toothy smile, hiding the embarrassment behind his large pair of hands. “I’m sorry if I made it sound like it’s a bad thing.” His laughter cools down and you suddenly starting to feed on his adorable grin, with your cheeky eyes. “Everything you say sounded like a government’s mans’ speech. Maybe it’s your deep voice. It’s very sexy.” You blurted out, confidently. He cleared his throat and reached for a glass of water, before it tips overs splashed the liquid over the carpeted floor. You handed him your glass and waved for a waiter. The dinner date ended shortly after, and unlike his confident expressions before, he constantly look away, apologizing and staying oddly quiet. The event affected him. He sent you off with a taxi, fully paid and you knew from the way he turned his back to you, you were not going to see him ever again. Not because you weren’t a potential girlfriend, but because he couldn’t forgive himself for making a mistake, no one intended. And you knew from that, that he is going to be hard to please and he will self-blame himself until it consumes him. A relationship with him will become toxic if he doesn’t reciprocate an approach you initiated.

You blinked, and you were back in the kitchen with a very silent Yoongi. And the conversation ended there, until Yoongi’s mother walked back in.

“Everything good?” She greeted. “Yeah.” “Yup.”

The lunch on a Saturday began shortly after Yoongi finished making his braised spicy seafood. You were listening to mom ranting about a shop assistant who wouldn’t explain why her coupons couldn’t be used, while Yoongi stays very quiet. You noticed that and looked at him, from across the table. You placed an eggroll in his bowl, he picks them up with his chopstick, took them in his mouth and snapped his head to the side, chewing. His jaw muscle tensed. “I mean,” Mother began, “…I don’t understand.” Yoongi cleaned up his plate with a single swipe of the spoon. “…Why won’t you guys date?” Mother finished her sentence and you dropped your gaze to your bowl. Yoongi took his away and pushed the chair back, signalling that he’s done with his lunch, “…I know right.” Yoongi started to rinse his bowl, tilting his head back a little, gawking an insincere smile.

“…Why won’t we date?” He dried his hands, take the plate of frozen honeydew from the fridge and to the table where you were. “You guys will be perfect for each other. I like her. Tell me, darling, is it Yoongi?” Mother patted your knee underneath the table. A broken smile crept on your lips, hesitantly. The chopstick you used to eat seemed so heavy. As you recalled the events that unfold in your head when you heard the word ‘date’ and ‘Yoongi’ in one sentence.

It must have been a week after the summer ended, and autumn began, several years ago. The autumn leaves started to scatter every time the wind blows. Yoongi’s attention shifted to the ground while you gaze up to the only leaf that’s hanging on the twig of a frail-looking tree, by the small pond of your hometown. “Barely hanging on.” You whispered. And in Yoongi’s head, was all the words he wished he could have said, his silence that you understood so much and you passed a knowing smile. “…I know you want to hold on,” You said to him, digging your hands far into the hoodie he lend you. “…But I want you see the world. See other girls. Date many other girls, first. And if, you still want me, you can come back to me. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re making a mistake when you are in a relationship with me.” You explained.

Ridiculous. One word in Yoongi’s head.

Why would wanting to date you—be a mistake? Why would wanting to choose you, of all these girls around, be a mistake? Why is it wrong to want someone you want? Yoongi thought that you didn’t think he was good enough. That’s why he didn’t bother to fight for you. A withering love that he felt, wasn’t the same thing you feel. You were simply giving him a choice. Yoongi knows only you, and it would be a waste for him to never know all the types of girls out there, when he could. “So you don’t want me.” He spat, forcing his lips out and nodded, sourly at the trees above. “No… I just don’t want you to feel spared of what the world had to offer.” You softly say, kicking air. “I don’t care what the world had to offer,” He slummed, and he sighs, “…And if you put it that way, then fine. I’ll roam around the world, see other people, but only because you told me to, not because I wanted to. I can’t hold on to things that wants to drift away.” The heavy conversation dims that way, with no words from you. You left for main city to study, and Yoongi went to do resumed his passion. Both of you went separate ways. For a while, for two, three years.

Yoongi walked past the living room and snatched his iPad before walking down the hallway to his room. “Why don’t you guys date?” Mother asked, impatiently. “Ask her…” Yoongi grumbled.

Sun is setting soon, after spending the whole day with Yoongi and his mom, you told them you needed to go. But Yoongi’s mother always had an excuse to let you stay an hour longer. And an hour become two, two became three and before you know it, it was an hour before midnight. This time, Yoongi’s mother was laying asleep on the couch and Yoongi grabbed the car key across the table while you waited at the door. “…Come up with something so she’ll think I left because of emergencies.” You advised Yoongi, walking out the main door. “I’m not going to lie to my mother.” He grumbled back at you, leading the way to the elevator. “…It’s not the first time you lied to her.” You darted back, “You think she would really believe that you and the girls you brought home was just, a friendly fling? What a total bullshit.” You chucked your tongue. “You think I’m sleeping with them?” He shot.

“Why wouldn’t you?” You arched an eyebrow at him, challenging.

Yoongi passed you a look that screams, unbelievable. “All these years of knowing me, and still, you would think I would sleep with just any girls. Am I a fuckboy?”

“With those looks? Undeniably, yes.” “Well glad to hear that. Everything is going as planned, yes?” He bit his lower lip as the lift descends to the parking lot. You didn’t think you needed to answer that. It was a trick question. He was clearly trying to remind you what you said to him on that autumn morning. Freeing him from his ‘leash’, releasing him from the latch he wants to be in. Drifting away from him, because you thought you were not enough for him, when he is clearly all you need. The drive home was accompanied by songs you knew he arranged. One particular song brought you back to that very day, and it was titled, ‘Dead Leaves’. You looked out the car window in silent, watching arrays of trees dancing in the subtle wind. The street partially empty down this side of the city, and you were overwhelmed with feelings you can’t explain.

So you started to speak, very slowly, just as the song ended. There was no track right after that one, suggests that it must have been the end of the track. “…I had a very difficult three years.”

“Mom’s health was deteriorating. Dad was working at 67, and I couldn’t find a job. My little brother was getting wavered by online games, and he was skipping class.” You blinked slowly at the view of the street, from the moving car. “…I had no one to turn to. I was devastated, and at many point during that span of three years, I thought of…disappearing. I thought of horrible things. I couldn’t stand at the top of the building, not wanting to be at the edge. I stared at the ceiling fan in my room, already knowing how to tie a knot with the belt. I put my face in the pillow and just when I started to stop breathing, I turned to the side, gasping for air. You have no idea how many times I said to myself, to live just one more day.” You wiped away a trickle of tear with the back of your hand. Yoongi stayed very silent, as usual.

“…Wow, I’ve been keeping this inside me for so long. Because couldn’t find the time to cry.” You giggled and sniffed. Yoongi was making a left turn to the apartment you stayed in, the guards granted entry and he walked you up to your apartment, accompanying you. “Thank you, for listening to my unfortunate rants. Thank you for letting me cook in your apartment. Thank you for being a good son and friend. Thank you for coming all the way up here to send me home. Just thank you so much, now off you go.” You said, standing behind the door of your apartment and when you were just about to shut the door, Yoongi placed his hand on it, stopping you. He hung his head low and you asked him why he did that.

He looked at you with a pair of eyes you didn’t recognise coming from Yoongi, through his bangs and filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher. “How dare you lived a life without me,” he grumbled, pushing the door wider as he speaks, “…I like the fact that you suffered without me. But I hate the fact that you didn’t run to me, when you could have. And should have.” He is in your apartment completely now, clenching his jaws. “Because of your pride?” He tips his head to the side a bit before grabbing you, before you could even reply, held you by the back of your neck and placed his lips on you. He took your scent in as if he had been waiting for so long for this, inhaling you. And his kiss was gentle as it progresses, oozing a lot of love with every inch of its movement, easing you into the mood. One hand on your hip, the other behind your head, holding you in place. You feel the wall behind you, fully. Your head was protected by his hand so it won’t drill against the concrete while he spills verses of love through his elaborated kisses.

You broke the kiss and he pants, with a boyish grin on his face, “…What pride?” He eyed you up and down, eating you up. He thumbed your lips, lovingly, as if he was trying to memorise how it felt and tasted like. “I think you still want me.” Yoongi tips his eyes up, and instead of lust, he was looking at you with much care. In contrast of how he initiated the kiss. Maybe it was the spur of the moment. But those eyes that are looking at you right now, is the eyes of the Yoongi you left by the small pond of your home town, many years ago. And he is back, with the same desire, slightly older but is heavily prepared to regain what he’s lost. “Are you sure it’s me you want?” Your voice sounded embarrassingly croaky with want, and you prayed he didn’t notice that. He linked his forehead to yours, “…Fuck yeah.”

And the morning can come, and Yoongi would still want you. Let all the mornings come, for all he wants, is you.

Mother got the daughter in law she wanted. And Yoongi came back to you. Isn’t that what soulmates are? That no matter how far apart you drifted, you’ll always come back to the place you believed is home. “I don’t hate autumn as much now.” Yoongi stated, playing with your fourth finger, twisting the ring. “You hated it before?” You looked up at his jaw, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Absolutely despise it.”

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thesocialfables · 4 years ago

Photo

“So you met his imaginary ass brother today, huh?” Syn questioned Amina as she wrapped thick glossy lips around the White Owl the group had stuffed with Gelato Cookies.

“Oh, he definitely wasn’t imaginary.” Amina responded, smiling brightly and working to pair the White Owl with a Backwood of Hindu Kush.

“I told you, you was gone like him.” Legacy bragged, working to stuff his ripped Dutch with OG Kush. “He corny as hell, just like yo ass.” He said before ignoring yet another phone call to his phone.

“Why don’t you just turn it off?” Syn asked before showing off her perfectly pearled blunt. “Pay up motherfuckers!”

“Whatever, you get the ripped shit next time.” Legacy said tossing the tragic blunt aside and picking up his phone. “And I can’t. Fuck around my Momma be on the beach screaming my name.”

“So what was his weird-ass name?” Syn asked lighting the blunt. “You still gotta roll that by the way, honey. Otherwise, you ain’t hitting this.”

“Hitting what?” Legacy flirted as Syn rolled her eyes at his charm.

“This,” She said passing the blunt to Amina, before lifting her leg open to tap on her pussy. “Or this.”

Legacy kissed his teeth as Amina answered her question. “Reynard. He almost shit himself talking to me, though.”

The group all laughed as Syn lounged back in the bean bag chair, and lit the second blunt for their rotation. “Reynard? That’s weirder than weird.”

“I like it, it’s distinguished. Better than Rain.” Legacy and Syn both agreed that Rain was better than Reynard and the two of them would be perfectly corny together. “Whatever. He’s super cute too, Syn. Like- I can’t wait to be on some Ghost shit with him at the bookstore.”

“Y’all gone be killing, motherfuckers?” Syn joked as she choked on the smoke from the blunt. While Amina explained she meant the movie, Legacy just shook his head.

Legacy was the baby nobody saw coming. Before he was born, his parents had officially called it quits and had separated. Before a small backslide led to six more years of them trying to make their relationship work. All of his life, his father had lived elsewhere. Whenever the man did spend some time with his boys, it was usually over at their grandmother’s house, since at any given moment Desmond could be involved in some shit that they didn’t need to see. So he grew up on all of the things kids his age considered old.

“How you be knowing all of this shit?” Syn said attempting to pass the blunt. However, Legacy was still trying to work with the ripped cigar. “Just give it here.”

“Naw, I got it.” As Legacy’s lips wrapped around the blunt, Syn watched closely growing wet watching his lips and tongue work the cigar.

“Do Reynard got them lips though?” Syn joked and Amina agreed.

“Oh yes. His might even be a little bigger, though. And sexier, definitely sexier.” Legacy stuck his middle finger up at the girl before sitting back on the couch inside Amina’s pool house. “So, I’m I getting a neighbor or what?”

“I don’t know. He gotta talk to Moms first. She might let him if Heir says so.” Legacy ignored the two girls’ predictable comments about his older brother, and silenced his phone once more, while he continued talking, “She been babying Rain ever since she had post-partum.”

“How do you know all of this? Ain’t you the baby, Little Man.” Syn teased as Legacy swap blunts with the girl.

“Man, when you got that many kids, adults don’t give a fuck what they say in front of you.” He said, and Amina agreed. Coming for a big family herself she could relate to learning the secrets behind the family secrets before she even knew who they were talking about.

“Why you two just don’t hook up, y’all got so much in common?” Syn questioned and both of her friends looked at her. “Oh, because of me.”

Amina rolled her eyes, while Legacy gave Syn the reassurance she needed to know she was the only girl he was fucking – on this side of the city. “He got a girlfriend though. I ain’t tryna get involved in no drama this summer. I wanna go off to college, guilt-free. Make all my mistakes there, and then bring my ass home.”

While Legacy was of course going to Smithdale University Uptown, Amina was going to Dépänd School of Art in Mamey Grove and Syn would be going all the way to Harmon College in Mason. He didn’t know he had a choice between the two girls when they first invited him over, Amina being more reserved about her intentions with the boy compared to Syn. However, when Legacy heard she was going miles away for school – he chose to spend his time down at the beach in Syn before going off to college.

“Oh, you finally texting her back?” Syn asked as the group swap blunts and she noticed Legacy texting. “Or is that your Mommy.” She teased.

“Naw, this Karin.” Legacy said with a smile. “She on her lunch break.”

“That’s yo favorite, ain’t it?” Amina asked, noticing the genuine smile on Legacy's face with every push to his screen.

Legacy responded by nodding his head with the same goofy smile Amina now couldn’t get out her head, “I been fucking with Karin since I knew what to do with it.”

“What?” Syn asked sitting up to look Legacy in his eyes. Amina looked over to the girl to see if she detected jealously in her tone, while Legacy didn’t look up until he was done texting Karin back. “What the fuck you doing, sending that bitch a novel?”

“Woah!” Both Legacy and Amina called out with laughter, as Syn tried to walk back her slip up.

��You not, catching feelings are you? This not that. We talked about this.” Amina checked her own phone to avoid being caught between the temporary lover’s quarrel. Especially after Legacy finished up his statement by saying, “And don’t ever call her out her name again.”

“Relax, I’m sorry for offending you and little Miss Karin. I was just caught off guard. I thought all your bitches were new bitches.”

“Syn, he just said.” Amina sweetly injected, as Syn went to explain she didn’t call Karin a bitch specifically. Legacy just shook his head. He really liked fucking Syn, she treated sex like a bucket list of things she wanted to do before going off to college. It would be a shame to have to cut her off so early in the summer because she couldn’t keep her emotions in check.

“It’s cool. I probably should’ve been more open.” Legacy teased, recanting the ‘rules’ Syn had for him before they began sleeping together. “Only new bitch is you. I’ve been fucking both of them for damn near forever.”

“See, I didn’t know that. That changes things.”

“How?”

“You don’t think they got feelings for you? One more missed phone call and Ta-ta-da-licious gone come find yo ass. And I don’t want that type of drama. Right, Amina.”

“Leave me out of this.” She said before sitting back on the mismatched wicker love seat and focusing on her cell phone and her own entanglements.

“Me too.” Legacy said attempting to pass the blunt to Syn, who just stared at him. He wanted to just call it a night and go back to his father’s house and talk to Karin for the remainder of her break, but Syn’s chinky doe-eyes caught him in a trance. “Karin got a real boyfriend, so you ain’t gotta worry about her.”

“And the other one.”

“She ain’t even got a car.”

“Neither did you a few weeks ago.” Amina added. As Syn tried to use her comment to justify her jealous, Legacy stared at Amina.

“See, you was supposed to be on my side. Now, I’m not giving you Reynard number.”

“You weren’t giving it to me anyway!” Amina shouted sitting up, as Legacy leaned in to switch blunts with her instead of Syn, he showed her a text from Rain saying it was okay if he gave the girl his number. “Oh my god! Syn, be nice.”

“Damn, bitch, you that thirsty for some dick?” She shot before standing. “Gimme my blunt, I’m going home before Little Man gets the spot blown up.” Amina rolled her eyes before passing the girl her White Owl back. “If y’all can just pick names now, why the fuck would you keep Little Man, little man.”

“Man shut the fuck up and take yo hurt ass home. Don’t nobody smoke no fucking White Owl anyway.” Amina tried not to laugh as she sat back and worked on her message to Rain.

“I bet you would like it if I went home. Test the product before you send it off to your brother. That’s what you do, right?”

“It was hard not to tell him I already met Heaven’s fine ass.”

“And don’t tell him how old you is either.”

“Why not?”

“Reynard do not break no rules.”

“Well, shit how old is he?”

“It don’t even matter. You say 17, he gone say too old for you.”

“Really?” Syn spoke up, breaking Amina and Legacy’s laughter.

“I’m not finna chase you, Syn. My dick good, it’s okay. Now stop trippin’ and sit down.” Amina rolled her eyes before heading into her bedroom inside the pool house, while Legacy motioned for Syn to sit next to him on the couch. “Or you can go home, flick your bean, and just wish you was still here with me.”

“You stink.” Juliette’s voice called, causing Legacy’s eyes to open. Taking in the view of his new-old bedroom, he dodged the sun from his splitting headache. He had no idea how he ended up back at his mother’s house. “Why you in my house, anyway?”

“Dang, Momma.” He said sitting up slowly and quickly checking to make sure there wasn’t a girl somewhere inside the room with him. “I was only supposed to be gone for a few weeks. You and your little boyfriend kicking me out now?”

“Don’t worry about me and mines. What you looking for? A girl. I already put her out.” Legacy just stared at his mother. He may have been fucked up, but he was 100% sure his mother was not this clam after finding another girl in his room this month.

“No Momma, I’m not. I actually kinda missed you.” Legacy spoke, it was the truth. He wanted to come and see the woman yesterday when he asked about coming to get some more of his clothes. But she claimed she wouldn’t be home and sent Rain instead.

“Boy, save that shit for your little girlfriend. You ain’t missed shit but a bath. Get up and get that fucking car out of my driveway. And now, not later. Matter fact, get yo ass back in it and go back to your Daddy’s house.” Legacy chuckled to himself as he listened to his mother continue to talk about him as she headed up the stairs of his house.

Grabbing his keys, he followed his mother’s orders and headed outside to move his car. Stepping out into the sun, Legacy felt like a vampire as he shielded his eyes and rubbed his head to soothe his splitting headache. That was until he heard,

“Oh shit! The champ is here!” from the porch of his brothers’ house next door. Legacy had no idea what Dasun was screaming about. Looking back at his mother’s house, he figured she’d be okay for a few minutes as he walked over to the porch.

“What you talking about?” Legacy questioned, cuing Shadow and Dasun’s laughter.

“Yo ass really was fucked up last night, huh?” Heaven questioned, as Legacy looked at three of his older brothers – utterly confused.

“Okay, what happened for real? Cause he shouldn’t know shit.”

“Oh is that’s a house arrest joke?” Heaven defended himself, before continuing, “So why the fuck you call me first?”

“Call you for what?” Legacy questioned over Shadow and Dasun’s laughter.

“You gotta come get me, Heaven. I don’t wanna die.” Shadow teased, recanting Legacy’s after-hours distress call he put out to all his brothers.

“Just don’t tell Heir. He ain’t gone let Reynard come live with me.” Dasun finished up before laughing uncontrollably.

“And when the fuck did you start calling him Reynard?” Heaven asked in-between his own laughs.

“When he fucked up apparently.” Shadow answered before he and Dasun went back to laughing over each other.

“Man,” Legacy said checking for his mother while his brothers teased him. Before stepping closer to Heaven, who had found the perfect spot on the porch to stay out of their mother’s view.

“Naw, move Big Man! This spot only works for one nigga.” Heaven said pushing him away.

“Would you fucking clowns just tell me what happened?” Legacy asked stepping back to look at his brothers all laughing at him, with tears forming in their eyes.

“Oh shit, you alive?” Rain asked stepping outside. Even his girlfriend, Kendie, seemed to know how Legacy had gone from fucking Syn on Amina’s couch to waking up in his old bedroom smelling like 1942 and sourdough bread.

“Will you tell me what happened?” He asked, but Rain’s eyes diverted to Kendie, trailing behind him.

“I just know how much you love me, bro.” Legacy accepted Rain’s joke, simply because it obviously had something to do with girls and he couldn’t explain it all in front of Kendie.

“Whatever, nobody told Heir, though right?”

“How you think you got here? I couldn’t come to get you.” Heaven said and Legacy began to throw a fit while his brothers all laughed at him. Pulling his phone out of pocket to see if there was something in it that could point him in the direction he needed to piece together his missing hours.

“Stop teasing him.” Karin’s voice filled the porch as she whispered through the house’s screen door to avoid being detected by Juliette.

“Hold on, I know you didn’t sleep in there.”

“Relax slugger. She slept in my room.” Heaven said igniting the porch’s laughter as Legacy slipped inside to talk to Karin since his brothers were going to be no help in helping him understand what happened last night.

“I did not. Well, I did sleep here. But not in Heaven’s room. Kendie and Rain – Reynard – slept on the couch.”

“That’s what he said his name was.” Legacy said, knowing he could trust Karin with anything.

“So you did introduce him to that girl. I thought you fucked her, already?” Karin inquired. She had been trying to figure out what Legacy had been up to down at his father’s since a Facetime call was interrupted by his late-night smoke buddies.

“She’s not my type.”

“Oh, so she single.”

“What happened!” He called for Karin to tell him, as he sat down on the couch to figure it all out himself, texting Amina first and then looking over his messages to Karin.

“Okay, easy killer. Tanika threw TaKisha a party last night. I guess she ended up getting into Smithdale after all.”

“What?” Legacy said. Now, much more concerned with that news than whatever happened.

“Yeah, guess y’all gone be seeing each other more than you thought.” Legacy shook his head while keeping his eyes on Karin’s petite frame as she disappeared into the kitchen for a moment. “Anyway. You must’ve shown up to her party around one or two. You called me after I got off at 4:30 and said your brothers wouldn’t come to get you and you were too fucked up to drive. I had my sister drive me over there, picked you up, got in your car and I brought you back here. I was gonna gone home myself, but that bitch took my car out west.”

“How the fuck you getting your car back?”

“Well,” She started and Legacy shook his head. “Don’t. I literally picked you up from another bitch’s house.”

“Fair enough.” Legacy said still going through his phone to figure out what else he had done.

“Apparently you and him fought, like y’all always do.”

“Well, you need to keep your boyfriend on a leash.” Karin just stared at Legacy. He was the one who started the fight.

“You just need to leave big boy drugs to the big boys.” She said before heading back into the kitchen.

“Why y’all keep talking in riddles?” He called to the girl, looking at all the Snaps he had taken from the party. Thankfully, not one had Karin, TaKisha, or Syn in them. Even fucked up, he was still player of the year.

“You took some Pure last night. And nobody called Heir.” Legacy relaxed a little, as Karin passed him a cup of coffee, an aspirin, and a quickly made breakfast sandwich of scrambled eggs, cheese, and a sausage patty. Legacy took the aspirin and coffee but refused the sandwich, “You gone want something on your stomach when you start going through withdrawals.”

“Withdrawals?”

“What you think Prue is? It’s Molly and Coke, you gone have withdrawals. Unless your little thotiana hooked you up with another pill.”

“At least, Heir don’t know.” Legacy said sipping his coffee

“Well, he was there.” In a dramatic response, Legacy spit the coffee out and Karin screamed. From the porch, he could hear his brothers laughing – assuming Karin had got to the part when Heir locked the boy in a room by himself to wait for Karin to come to get him.

“Why was he there?” Legacy asked as Karin closed the door to drown out his brothers’ laughter.

“It was a party, and he sells drugs. Look, Deangelo on his way to get me from my Aunts.”

“I can take you home.”

“Can you take me to get my car?” Legacy paused for a moment. He had nothing to do and wouldn’t mind driving the girl to West Catlin to get her car from her trifling sister, but that felt like a boyfriend’s job. “Exactly.”

“I’ll do it.” He said, mostly because he didn’t want Karin to leave just this second and wanted to spend time with her since he was sober.

“Thanks, Little Man, but- Deangelo already don’t believe that I’m not with you. And after y’all childish ass fight, he could use the win.” Legacy rolled his eyes thinking about Karin’s boyfriend. What he said last night to Syn was true. He had lost his virginity to Karin, but he had also been beefing with her boyfriend Deangelo since then. “When did you and TaKisha start fucking around again anyway? Cause I still ain’t even seen a carpet fiber from your momma house.”

“You always at work.” Legacy mumbled and Karin smiled, before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“I don’t have to work tonight or tomorrow. Soon as I come back, and ditch Deangelo. I’ll take you to my nephew's garage.”

“He got some fucking heat in there yet?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” She said grabbing her purse and heading towards the back of the house to escape without Juliette spotting her. “Also,” She said doubling back to whisper in Legacy’s ear. “TaKisha has been fucking with Quentin, lately. But then again you probably knew that. That’s why you fucking her, witcho side piece ass. Bye!”

“Bye.” Legacy flatly said watching Karin leave the house. “Wait, what?” He called back to her. However, Karin was long gone. Looking over his shoulder to make sure the door was close and Heaven couldn’t overhear him, Legacy called TaKisha to speak directly to the source.

“What?” TaKisha answered the phone after two rings, however, her tone made it clear she was not happy to hear from the boy.

“What you mad at me or something?” He said playing it cool and moving back towards the kitchen.

“You ruined my party by fighting your ex-bitches boyfriend. Then your brother had to lock you up like a fucking animal because you wouldn’t clam down. On top of that, you called me Karin, Syn, and Amina. Whoever the fuck they are. Then you told me it didn’t matter what my name was anyway. Because you were just gone forget us all when you go off to college. The same college I’m going to by the way.”

“Congratulations?”

“What do you want, Legacy?”

“I wanna make it up to you.” He said leaning on the kitchen’s island, and looking towards the front door to make sure it was still closed.

“Oh really? How the fuck you gone do that Legacy? I don’t want your little dick after you done showed it to everybody.”

“I really hope you mean figuratively.”

“No, literally nigga. I told you not to take that shit. But you were too focused on Deangelo to even hear me.”

“I’m sorry, Kisha. Please let me make it up to you.”

“How, nigga? You fucking embarrassed me. You lucky my boyfriend wasn’t there. I didn’t even ask you to come.”

“You called me like 100 times.”

“For Heir’s number, motherfucka. If you weren’t so busy ignoring me, you would’ve known that.” Legacy just shook his head, thinking to himself So why would I just show up to your party? Especially, after I had just got me some ass. “I told you to stay your high ass down at the beach. You were already done when you finally called me back. But nope. Nobody can ever tell Little Man, shit.”

“That fucking moonshine.” Legacy mumbled to himself, reminded that after he and Syn finished fucking, Amina came out of her bedroom with a bottle of the strong liquor for them to drink. “So, how you get Heir number?”

“Legacy, I’mma talk to you later.” Before she could hang up, Legacy begged her to stay on the phone. Admitting that he was just trying to understand what happened last night. “We both know how I got Heir number. You know I’m dating Quentin now, that’s the only reason why you so interested me. That, and the fact, Karin dumbass stuck here working at that warehouse and ain’t got no time for your bullshit no more. Go fuck your brother and leave me alone.”

“Aye!” Legacy called out. She was right. The only reason why he started having sex with TaKisha, to begin with, was that her older sister was Tanika, Heaven’s girlfriend. And as quiet as it was kept, Heaven had tried to talk to TaKisha first, but she was too young for him. So he settled with Tanika. And now with TaKisha dating one of his oldest friends, it was like Legacy was doubling down on pissing Heaven off. “I told you I wanna make it up to you. But if you just gone be mean, I guess I’ll just talk to you later.”

“You still ain’t told me how you gone make it up to me, nigga.”

“Wanna go to the beach?”

Even Legacy believed staying with Desmond would be a cakewalk, but he was still trying to prove himself to Juliette with rules almost as ridiculous as hers. So Legacy didn’t even bother with trying to sneak TaKisha into his father’s house with all the alarms he had set up to alert him of Legacy’s comings and goings.

“Can we not go in the house?” TaKisha asked as they sat in the driveway. “You could’ve took me back home if that was the case.”

Legacy just sighed heavily, as he wanted for Amina to text him back. Although she and Syn had been friends longer than him and her, she was cool as hell, offering her pool house up to Legacy to use whenever he wanted. Since he couldn’t have girls over past a certain hour at Desmond’s. He was just waiting for her to give him the go-ahead. Afraid that Syn would forget what they discussed and show up to ruin everything.

On the other hand, with all the complaining TaKisha had done all day long, he was wondering was all of this really worth getting under Heaven’s skin. Legacy respected all of his older brothers, even Shadow. Heir took to the streets to provide for them after Desmond was locked up, while Dasun was the family’s protector ready to beat whoever he had to up for the boys, and Shadow as like Mr. Mom – since he was cooking and cleaning up behind his babies anyway. While living with Heaven, was hell. Stuck in the middle flying under Juliette’s radar, Heaven got away with murder. Starting little fires to distract their mother from the bullshit he was up to behind her back. While Rain had grown up to just accept this was the way things were, Legacy never forgave Heaven for the beating he got after Juliette rushed home early one day to find Legacy and Karin alone in their apartment. Meanwhile, Heaven was stealing her house key to make his own copy, so he could come and go in the dead of the night while she was sleeping.

“Come on,” Legacy spoke to TaKisha after Amina finally texted him back. She assured him that Syn wouldn’t be a problem as the two were going Uptown to a nightclub and the pool house was all his. “And don’t ask me a bunch of questions. Last time I kicked it with you, we was stuck in a living room with your dying uncle.”

“He is not dying. It’s just an oxygen tank.” To get through the rest of the night, Legacy just envisioned the look on Heaven’s face when he found out that he was fucking his best friend’s girl. “Damn, your Daddy rich as hell. We going in here?” TaKisha commented along their walk through the backyard and down to the beach.

“Didn’t I say don’t ask questions?” Legacy said, peeking through the window of their pool house to see if it was still unlocked. At this point, he’d fuck her right on the sand just to shut her up.

“I ain’t know you were serious.” were TaKisha’s final words as she quietly followed Legacy down the beach towards Amina’s pool house. “Can I talk at least?” She questioned once they were inside. However, Legacy was done with hearing her voice as he grabbed her waist tightly and pushed his lips against hers. Parting her lips with his tongue, Legacy multitasked kissing her with lifting the girl’s body to sit her on the counter of the kitchenette and reaching up her skirt to pull down her panties. “Fuck,” TaKisha moaned out as Legacy’s kisses moved down below. “Legacy,” She moaned out. At first, he thought it was from the work his tongue was putting in. That was until she called it three more times in a row before pulling his head from between her legs.

As Legacy went to question what she could possibly want now, He noticed Amina and Syn standing in the doorway of her bedroom. As Syn began laughing loudly, Amina spoke up. “I thought you meant, in like an hour or something. We haven’t left yet.”

“You said go head.” Legacy spoke getting off his knees, as TaKisha slid off the counter to stand behind him.

“Yeah, ‘go head’, in like an hour or something. You didn’t even say you were back, already.” While Syn just continued to laugh, Amina figured she’d be the adult in the situation and introduce them. “I’m Amina, and this my girlfriend-”

“Symera.” Syn spoke, stepping closer to shake TaKisha’s hand, but Amina pulled her back.

“Don’t mind us, we were just getting ready to leave. Just lock the door behind you.”

“Oh, but baby,” Syn said playing along with Amina’s lie. “Wouldn’t you rather stay here and finally get to know, TaKisha right? Little Man talks about you practically all the time. We can stay for just a little while right babe?”

“Naw, y’all should get going. Maybe another time.” Legacy spoke up eyeing Syn.

“Legacy cut it out. You said you were trying to make up ruining my party. So far all we did was eat salty ass pretzel and stare at the ocean. We could’ve done that on the boardwalk.” TaKisha spoke up, excited to get to know anybody close to the boy that was not one of his lying ass brothers.

“We have a reservation though, honey. Maybe next time you’re here.” Amina said pulling Syn towards the door.

“We can cancel them, babe. Please, just for a little while.” Syn asked pulling out a blunt and sitting down on the couch she and Legacy had just fucked on less than 24 hours ago. “You smoke?” She said as she patted the seat next to her for TaKisha to take. “You could just go home, Little Man. I’m sure she’d have more fun with us anyway.”

“Get your girl, Amina.” Legacy said as Amina just shook her head. She was officially out, as she just went into her bedroom. She attempted to save Legacy once more, by slamming the door behind her. Hoping that would convince TaKisha that they should go.

“Don’t worry about her. She’s all bark and no bite. We wanna meet our puppies?” Syn said with a conniving smile.

“I love puppies!”

“How you explain this, crazy?” Legacy asked cornering Syn in the kitchen after TaKisha went outside to talk to Quentin. One blunt had turned into two. And those two blunts turned into shots and a conversation Legacy thought would never end.

“How come, you never went down on me?”

“I don’t just put my mouth on everybody.”

“Good thing I do then, huh?” Syn asked leaning into Legacy’s face and blowing him a kiss. “Relax it's not like its Karin. You shouldn’t care anyway, right?”

“You know fucking you wasn’t as crazy as you are, I’d stop fucking with you.”

“Please, you not gone stop fucking with me because you don’t even know what you want.”

“I know I what I want.” Legacy said. His voice was firm as an indication that he was not impressed by Syn’s actions, yet his eyes raked over the girl’s body quickly sucking the air out of the room as Syn reluctantly smirked at Legacy’s intense gaze.

“Oh really?” She purred adjusting her body to face Legacy inside the kitchen. “So how come Ta-ta-da-licious has now seen your new house, spent the day with you at the pier, and met your bestie back there. Meanwhile, your favorite is where exactly? Do you even know?”

“Shit, did I say something to you when I was drunk?” Legacy asked, peeking out the window to see TaKisha on the phone. He couldn’t hear the girl, but from her body movements, he believed she was arguing with her boyfriend.

“You mostly talked about Reynard. You’re pretty lonely in that house, huh?” Legacy looked at her. And Syn grew silent for a moment. She was used to drinking moonshine with Amina, but it was clear now that Legacy was not. “I’m sorry, you really don’t remember, huh? I promise I didn’t do this not because I’m jealous. We told you not to go to that party. You don’t want that girl, Little Man. You just mad at Heaven because he spending all his time with Rain now.”

“What the fuck? That’s even true.” Legacy said walking away from Syn and heading towards the door to go outside with TaKisha.

“I’m sorry, you said it not me.” Legacy quickly turned around to tell Syn she was wrong, but he didn’t need to say the words. Obviously, his drunken heart had spoken words his sober mind wasn’t ready to hear aloud. “Okay. Look, me and Amina about to leave. Don’t be mad at me. I thought I was kinda helping by cockblocking. But if we all,” She spoke with emphasis, hoping Amina would come back her up so she didn’t seem like she was just making this all up to be a hater. “Just gone act like you didn’t just pour your heart out about your brothers, then fine, keep doing you. Long as it includes doing me. Until you and your boo thang go off to Smithdale.”

As Legacy went to still tell Syn how wrong she was, Amina finally came out of her bedroom to add to the conversation. “She’s right, Little Man. You got pretty emotional about Reynard, and being alone. Then you said were going to her party to fuck her and her sister since Heaven couldn’t leave the porch to stop you.”

“Finally, thank you, babe. Your dick is good and everything, but I would much rather be your friend. You love Karin and your brother, I get that. That’s why I know you do not wanna do this.”

Legacy paused for a moment, looking at both Syn and Amina. He absolutely was lonely down here on the beach without his brothers, and that time he spent with them today was probably the most fun he had all summer. “What the fuck I’mma do when I go to Smithdale?”

“It’s not that long of a drive.” Amina answered rationally, while Syn spat out,

“Ta-ta-da-licious will be there to keep you safe.”

As Syn laughed and apologized once again, Legacy rolled his eyes before opening the door and stepping outside to check on TaKisha. Just in time to hear her telling Quentin everything from where she was to who she was with. With tears forming in her eyes, and Quentin’s voice booming through the receiver, Legacy smirked a little. His dirty work was over, all he had to do now was return to sender.

That was until his phone began buzzing with texts from Heaven;

Q don’t fight Big Man, hope Desmond down there teaching how to shoot

This gotta be the dumbest shit you’ve ever done. All because of a whopping you got at 14?

You better call Heir, cause they only Heaven that can help you now is God’s

#WTH\LLS #Long Live the Side #fictional universe #the mason universe #flash fiction #short story #writing #writing prompt #fiction #urban fiction #street lit #hood story #black books #black creators #black storytelling #black authors #black writers

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