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thetinyboio · 1 year ago

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Welcome Home [Cult of The Lamb A.u]

Prologue [Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5] TW: Medical related talk minor though

Poppy raised her feather as if ready to argue but decided against it, not wanting to create more tension.

"Alright," she conceded, "just make sure he stays calm if he wakes up too soon again. He may need a revision."

With that, Poppy made her way to the nurse's station to gather more information about the medications everyone would require for the evening. Barnaby, still seated with his arms crossed in the corner, maintained his vigilant watch over the sleeping Wally and Thoth. Thoth’s gaze shifting awkwardly to the bedding, seemed uncertain in the silence.

Barnaby, attempting to break the ice and ease Thoth's unease, finally spoke up.

"Aye, kid. I'm not gonna bite. So just relax, okay?" He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "You like jokes?"

Thoth gave a small, hesitant nod.

Barnaby grinned, his nubby tail giving a playful wag.

"If April showers bring May flowers, what do May flowers bring?" He paused, awaiting Thoth's response, but they shrugged in confusion.

"Pilgrims," Barnaby answered with a chuckle.

Thoth, still slightly perplexed, managed a small smile.

Barnaby continued his efforts to lighten the mood. "Oh! What did Baby Corn say to Mama Corn? Where's Popcorn?" He looked at Thoth, hoping for even a slight chuckle.

Thoth replied with a puzzled, "I'm sorry?"

Barnaby persisted, "Aw, come on, kid. Not even a fake laugh?"

Thoth finally caught on, he was trying to make them laugh. Barnaby posed another joke. "Mmm… How does the moon cut his hair?"

Thoth played along, asking, "How?"

Barnaby grinned triumphantly, "Eclipse it."

Thoth tilted their head in understanding and smiled a little, finally getting the joke. Barnaby let out a small laugh of relief.

"Oh, thank goodness. You do have a sense of humor… well… ain't no medicine better than the healing power of laughter."

He sighed, glancing over at Wally. "Oh, little buddy… what a mess, pal…"

Thoth, their expression softened with sympathy, looked between Barnaby and Wally. "How close are you two?" They inquired, their curiosity and concern evident in their eyes. "We've been knowing each other since we was in grade school, practically brothers sometimes," Barnaby reflected, his eyes drifting down to Wally before returning to Thoth. "I wish I knew who he was looking for; maybe I could have helped find them..."

Thoth listened intently, their curiosity piqued by the depth of the bond between Barnaby and Wally.

"Oh, I see..." Thoth responded, their tone tinged with a hint of melancholy. "I don't think I had a friend like that... He's really lucky to have people such as yourself and Miss Poppy to care about him..." They fidgeted with their bandages, lost in thought. "Where I come from... the only person that cared about me was my mother..."

Barnaby's eyes softened, and he offered a sympathetic nod. "Your mother sounds like a real sweet lady. I hope to meet her someday. Gotta know who raised such a smart and wise little guy!" He smiled, a touch oblivious to the somewhat somber tone of their conversation.

Thoth let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sad sigh, their gaze fixed on Wally.

"I think that would be the first positive thing my mother would have ever heard about me," they admitted. "I've always been told I daydream too much or don't pay enough attention, that I come off as ignorant..."

As the room settled into a brief silence, both Barnaby and Thoth found themselves contemplating the complexities of their pasts and the unique connections they had formed with Wally, their dear friend whose quest remained shrouded in mystery.

"Well, whoever says that is dead wrong," Barnaby insisted, his frown conveying his sincerity. "I think you've got a good head on your shoulders! Better than most I've seen out and about sometimes."

Thoth's smile grew slightly at the compliment, appreciating the encouragement. "You're very kind," they replied. "But just to be fair, I think if I was a bit smarter, I probably wouldn't be where I am now."

Thoth's thoughts turned inward, dwelling on past regrets. "Maybe if I would have said something... they wouldn't have taken her." They sighed, fidgeting with their itchy bandages. The itching only seemed to exacerbate their frustration. "At least when you wake up next, you'll have others waiting for you..." Thoth couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy toward Wally's circumstances.

Barnaby, noticing Thoth's discomfort, tried to offer a solution. "Well, maybe, but you're here now," he pointed out optimistically. He shifted his chair so he was positioned between Wally and Thoth. "Best to make the most of it, ya know... Oh, hey, want me to see if Poppy can get something for that itch? Hate to see them have to cone ya; I've had to have that too many times when I get into a little too much trouble."

Thoth chuckled lightly, appreciating Barnaby's concern. "Yeah... sorry, guess I burned my paws really badly..." They sighed, their mind wandering to the uncertain future. "At least when you wake up next, you'll have others waiting for you..." Thoth couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy toward Wally's circumstances.

Barnaby pondered Thoth's predicament for a moment before offering a solution. "Hmm, well, not that comes to mind, but I don't think you should worry about that after such an accident," he suggested. "But let me make some calls; I might be able to set you up someplace! Worst comes to worst, I've got an extra room; you can stay there till you get on your paws! Don't stress yourself over it, okay?"

Poppy's gentle interruption broke the reverie of Barnaby and Thoth, her presence a welcome one as she returned with the evening medications.

"Sorry to intrude again, but I have your meds!" she announced, placing a small cup of water and the necessary medicines next to Thoth, giving them time to take it when they were ready. She then efficiently replaced one of Wally's IV bags and disposed of the old, empty one.

She turned to address Barnaby with a hint of reluctance. "I do also hate to say this, Barnaby, but at 10, you'll have to go home, visiting hours are over by then. But I did okay it with the staff for you to come in with me tomorrow to check up on them."

As the medication began to take effect, Thoth's anxiety slowly dulled, and exhaustion overcame them. The room around them started to blur, and the bickering between Barnaby and Poppy became distant and dreamlike. In the hazy realm between wakefulness and slumber, Thoth was aware of their surroundings but felt detached from reality.

They listened to the back-and-forth between Barnaby and Poppy, the two friends bantering about Barnaby's insistence on staying by Wally's side. The sound of Poppy shooing Barnaby out of the room drifted into Thoth's ears.

Thoth's thoughts swirled, a mix of drowsy confusion and the effort to be polite. "...Oh? They're leaving? ...It was nice meeting you..." They mumbled silently in their mind as they succumbed to the medication's effects, descending into deeper unconsciousness.

In this dreamlike state, Thoth's mind played tricks on them, conjuring odd shapes and colors that danced before their closed eyelids. Amid the swirling patterns, a distant voice echoed—an all-too-familiar voice, that of their mother.

"Stop daydreaming, Thoth. You'll get yourself in trouble," the voice chided, a reproach echoing from the depths of memory.

Thoth's dreamscape shifted, Their ears perk up hearing the strange voice once more.

"Nice to meet you three properly!" the figure greeted, its voice echoing mysteriously in the dreamlike void. Thoth looked around but found no one else in this peculiar dreamscape. The unsettling encounter left them with more questions than answers, as the enigmatic presence lingered in the depths of their unconscious mind.

Thoth's heart raced as they tried to make sense of the surreal encounter. The towering figure before them, with its window-like eyes and long wild red hair and humanoid features, sent shivers down their spine. They stammered in confusion and fear, their voice trembling.

"Three?... W-who?... What… What is this?... Where's Miss. Poppy? Where am I?" Thoth's wide-eyed gaze scanned the endless darkness that surrounded them, a sense of disorientation taking hold. The echoing clunking of metal chains only added to their anxiety, reminiscent of the haunting nights in their previous cell.

The enigmatic figure responded, its words echoing through Thoth's dreamlike state. "Fear not, you are still in that world with the sweet bird and the large dog," it reassured them, its tone strangely calm despite its imposing appearance. "I have just projected myself into your mind while you sleep. My name, I've long since forgotten, as I've been imprisoned for so long. But you may have heard of me as 'The One Who Waits So Below.'"

The figure, seeing Thoth's unease, made a gesture of goodwill by shrinking its projected form to a more manageable size. It extended a hand toward Thoth, its intentions unclear yet seemingly welcoming.

"Pleased to finally meet you," it offered, its voice holding a hint of curiosity and anticipation.

Thoth, though still gripped by fear and confusion, stared at the large figur’s hand, unsure of the true nature of this strange being and the implications of this mysterious encounter.

#welcomehomeau #welcome home #wally welcome home #welcome home arg #welcome home fanart #wally darling au #welcome home puppet show #furry art #cute furry #cult of the lamb #cultofthelambfanart #cotl fanart

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davepetacreates · 2 years ago

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Episode 1 (WTCV) - Laika

--start of broadcast--

CECIL: A soul is not always in the places it needs to be in. And sunglasses won’t protect you from the flaming tendrils of the green sun.

Welcome to Nightvale.

[musical interlude]

CECIL: Well, good morning, listeners! To start off today’s broadcast, I think that we should discuss the newcomers in town. I sent interns Sapphrel and Ruben to go interrog– wait, no, that says interview – the incredibly large group that has taken over the Yellow Crown apartment complex. Yeah. Taken over. It’s a seriously large group.

Interns Sapphrel and Ruben returned with the news that, in fact, there is no pumpkin, and there never even was one, and what pumpkin, and why are they talking about pumpkins anyway?

I clarified that I had meant for them to interview the people who moved in, not the former residents. They exchanged looks with each other, said, “Ohhhhhhh,” with eight letters, and went back to the apartment complex.

Yeah. Interns, am I right? *laughs*

In other news, Khoshekh has finally left the mens’ bathroom here at the radio station! I saw him just earlier chasing a dog around near the dog park.

A perfunctory reminder to all Night Vale citizens that dogs are not allowed in the dog park. Humans are not allowed in the dog park. You may see hooded figures in the dog park. Do not look at, think about, or interact with the hooded figures in the dog park.

Josie, out near the old car lot, has said that some new figures have joined the ranks of the Erikas. These new figures, who are definitely not and never will be angels, as angels do not exist, say that they came from the mountains, which also do not exist. Unless you believe that they do. Then they exist. Anyways, these new additions call themselves Nanna, Corbin, Crow, Prince, Carnelian, and Carols. They are, respectively, blue with a tail, flashing orange and green with legs, orange with a tail, green with horns and a tail, flashing pink and purple with legs, and light blue with horns, cat ears, and a tail. One of them appears to have teleportation powers.

On – oh, hey! The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home has just handed me my phone. On it is a – a video… of the inside of the newcomers’... apartment buildings… Ugh. How is that much soda even healthy for a guy? Oh my god, is that Good Luck Chuck? Oh, well, at least he has Scott Pilgrim. That somewhat makes up for it. Wait – what the fuck? Did that girl just disappear into thin air? Did she steal from the Ralphs? Oh, no – she’s explaining how she left money. Alright, then, that’s fine. Ewww – I don’t want to see this part, skip skip skip skip skip – Oh, there’s Khoshekh! I was wondering where he had gotten off to! Aww, and it looks like the girl with dog ears is petting him! Who knew?

Well, anyway, it does not appear as though these newcomers are threats to our town! What a relief, Night Vale! What a relief.

Dear Listeners, I have sad news. I just received word from interns Sapphrel and Ruben that interns Col, Void, Cactus, and Lynx are dead. Their bodies have not been found, as they are, apparently, inside the black hole outside the Moonlite All-Nite Diner. Intern Sapphrel tracked Void’s phone, and found it there. Our hearts go out to the families of interns Col, Void, Cactus, and Lynx. We're very sorry for your loss, and wish you the best in life. They died in the line of service, and were good workers who only wanted the best.

And now, the weather.

41. Moonsetter - Homestuck Vol. 9

Oh! It seems the ghost of intern Void has appeared in the studio, listeners! Let's hear what Void has to say.

INTERN VOID:

CECIL: Oh! Well, thank you, Void!

Look, I know that the City Council has a policy that dead people can't intern here, and, listeners, I follow every rule that they set up, but you're a qualified candidate, right?

So, since you can't legally intern, you could come work here as our diplomat to the world of the dead! What do you say?

There is silence. She does not appear to be saying anything yet, but instead, mulling it over.

I do rather hope she accepts the offer, listeners. It would be a nice gesture to the ghosts, and, anyways, she could bridge people with their families!

If you have a loved one who died, imagine how lovely it would be to hear how they're doing!

Oh! She's speaking!

INTERN VOID: You can't offer me a job and immediately get mad that I'm not saying anything!! Also, I don't know that many ghosts…

CECIL: She looks… sad, for some reason? Or maybe just put-out.

Also, what do you mean, get mad? I was just describing to our listeners what was happening in the studio. I wasn’t mad at you. It makes sense that you wouldn’t know many ghosts, seeing as how you only recently died.

INTERN VOID: There's not many ghosts in space.

CECIL: Wait, you’re in space?

INTERN VOID: Yeah. There’s a doggo here. It’s a very good doggo. *mild shuffling ensues* who’s a good girl~

CECIL: Huh. So space is real, unlike what Hiram says. Remember that campaign? Honestly. What a load of dragonshit! He based his entire campaign around defunding the space center, saying it was dumb.

What is the dog's name?

INTERN VOID: I’m not sure, as I didn’t pay too much attention in Martian class. But she has a space suit?!

CECIL: Okay...?

Wait! I think I know this dog! Is her name Laika?

INTERN VOID: I think so! She reacts to it, at least!

She is a very good dog.

CECIL: Oh! One sec, I'm going to need to call Carlos! He'll be very interested in this!

*phone ringing*

Hey, Carlos! One of my interns at the station died.

CARLOS: Oh. Oh, honey, I'm sorry-

CECIL: No, it's a good thing! She found Laika!

CARLOS: Wait, what?

Repeat that, please?

She found Laika?

She's in space???

I thought you said she died!

CECIL: I did! She's a ghost!

And she found Laika!

CARLOS: Oh. OH! Oh my god! Hold on, I'll be over in a few.

I love you, bye!

CECIL: Aw, I love you too!

*hangs up phone*

Isn't he just a sweetheart? Honestly.

INTERN VOID: He is very sweet. But, the job thing…?

CECIL: Okay, I'm reconsidering. Maybe you could work with Carlos? He's been studying the position of Night Vale in the galaxy in comparison with the rest of the Earth. He's become very interested in space recently, and you, being a ghost and therefore able to actually go to space, could help with that!

If you want a job, that is.

I just realized how presumptive I'm being! You're in space! You might not even be able to work here on Earth! I am so sorry for how insensitive I've been, please forgive me, Void.

Honestly, my big mouth never stops running.

But the offer still stands if you do want it.

INTERN VOID: Oh, heck yee, I wanna be a space diplomat!

CECIL: Alright. When Carlos comes over, I’ll let him know and he can get you set up! Does that sound good?

INTERN VOID: YEET

CECIL: Perfect.

Thank you, listeners, for sticking with us through that... brief interruption to normal matters. Now, for the Community Calendar.

Monday is Opposites Day, and is no longer going to be Monday, but Yaednehm. Yadmehn? Yadmon? I think that's right. Huh. The ground will be up, and all the blood will be rushing to our heads as we frantically contemplate what direction is what.

Tuesday will be a day in which you dream of a giant plush squid with narrowed eyes, embroidered onto a young girl's dress as she casts a spell over a well-loved bloodstone circle, trying to figure out how to save her friends and family from destruction.

Wednesday is canceled.

Thursday is the big homecoming baseball game against Desert Bluffs! Desert Bluffs. Honestly, they're as likable as Steve Carlsberg! And that is not saying much of anything at all, listeners. Not much at all. Go get 'em, Scorpions.

Friday is origami day at the community center! Bring your kids for a day of fun! There will be activities held. Some of the activities will be closed off. Some will be imaginary. Some will be deadly. It's all part of the fun! And John Peters - you know, the farmer? - will be selling his imaginary corn snow cones there as well! I love those things. They're so nostalgic, you know?

Saturday is the Concert of the Erikas. Come by Old Woman Josie's house out near the car lot to hear the definitely NOT angelic choir.

Sunday is also canceled.

I, for one, am excited for this week! We're going to have so much free time, what with two days canceled! What fun! Me and Carlos are going to take Estaban to go investigate some science-y things! He is such a cutie in a lab coat! Both of them are!

Next, dear listeners, we go to Traffic.

A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that today is NOT this young man's birthday. The smell of cake permeates the air. This family is constantly on the run from the Secret Police for violating the ban on wheat and its byproducts. The dulcet tones of the radio host's voice lull the boy into a sense of complacency. Learned complacency, one could say. He's learned to take these kinds of peaceful moments when he can, as the times when he cannot are many.

A notification sounds from his computer. His friend with the purple text tells him that something is apparently going to happen on Tuesday that she's going to have to prevent. He tells TT to fuck off, and returns to gazing at the clouds. The red-flag-doohickey-thingy on the mailbox is down. It has been down. It will likely always be down, unless it's up.

Further down the street, a teenager in a black sweatshirt stands wearily. They shield their eyes from the sun, staggering as they walk towards the young man's home. A mail truck pulls up to the home. They startle. The mail truck leaves the home. They run. As the young man perks up, they open the mailbox, steal the mail inside, and run away. The young man opens his front door and gives chase.

The timeline has been locked, listeners, and I can view it no longer.

This has been traffic.

Listeners, we all have those moments when something is just so inevitable, so unchangeable, that we don't notice it? Well, today, I noticed it. I don't know what I noticed, but it was something, and I noticed the heck out of it. It was a young man in a red shirt, scars lacing down his neck, and I noticed. You are not alone. No one is alone. Loneliness is a concept. It is a state of emotion. One can be lonely, but one is never alone. Everyone is noticed. And when you are noticed, you are noticed. So please, take care, dear Listeners, and make sure to buy your privacy every month from the Secret Police. Remember, twenty a month keeps them out of your stuff.

A quick word from our sponsors:

Everyone turns into a spider eventually. Everyone goes through that awkward phase where they want to turn into a spider. And everyone goes through that phase where their spiders want to turn into them. But, for every stage of life, there's a certain black hole that wants to eat the spider inside your heart. If it's outside your heart as well, that's just a bonus. You will still be eaten. You just won't come back from it.

Walmart. Save money. Live better.

Our show is drawing to a close, dear listeners, but before we go, I have a daily prophecy to give! Let's see...

* slight plastic crinkling noises *

* sound of a bag opening *

* eating sounds ensue *

* a slip of paper scraping against something stale or burnt *

Yjod pmr od gpt yszols gaumm. S nppl od mpyjomh eoyjpiy oyd qshrd. Trsvj omyp yjr dlu smf htsn pmr. Upi eoaa nr rcytrzrau fodsqqpomyrf eoyj ejsy upi gomf. Oy eoaa arsf upi yp trnra. Upi eoaa nr gohjyomh gpt upit aogr, s lmohjy om omlu stzpt. Fpm'y dsu er fofm'y estm upi.

* long silence *

W... What just happened? What was the prophecy? My God, dear Listeners, I don't think I know what I said! And I always know what I said. Do you think I was possessed? Hmm...

Anyway, as creepy as that was, everything must end, and this show is no different. I wish you all an amazing week. Stay tuned for the sounds of me curling up into a fetal position and having an existential crisis over what my brain does when it's on autopilot. It's terrifying to think it, but... It could hurt them. I could hurt them.

Fuck.

Well, on that note, I leave you. Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

--end of broadcast (dated 2/6/23)--

#wtnv #welcome to night vale #welcolme to night vale #welcome to col vale #the voice of night vale #cecol palmer #cecil palmer #nvcr #night vale community radio #night vale #carlos the scientist #cecilos #night vale community radio interns #wtnv fic #Davepeta writes

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the12thnightproject · 2 years ago

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A Simple Game

Who will win when The God of Deceit, The Tiger of Kai and the Silver Kitsune all have the same goal?

Requested by @venulus

Prompts: May I, please, request: Mitsuhide, Shingen & Motonari + “I can explain” + Only one bed + SFW

Word Count: 2400+

Warnings: None

Some stories begin with ‘once upon a time,’ and some can only begin with ‘it was a dark and stormy night.’ This story… is the latter, for it was a dark and stormy night, a night when the Gods Raijin and Fujin hurled thunder, lightning, wind, and rain at unlucky travelers. Such a night was not a night to be in the elements, and anyone caught in this sudden cloudburst sought whatever shelter they could find, be it cave, farm, or…

…an ordinary Inn at the edge of an ordinary posting town. Though the Inn wasn’t fancy, it was neat and clean, and more importantly to hapless refugees from the storm, it was warm and dry. Though not famous for its meals or for the prettiness of the tea maids, it was a perfectly acceptable place to spend the night.

And it was on this dark and stormy night, that three men were forced by the elements to take shelter at this very Inn.

This very small Inn.

This very small, crowded Inn.

This very small, crowded Inn with … only one vacancy.

Had the three men been travelling together, or had they been close friends, there might be no story to be told. But these men were not close friends, nor were they close to being friends, and the fact remained that there was only one room, with one bed in it, and three strangers who wished to have that room.

The Innkeeper was a fair woman, and in this situation, would have simply given the room to the first man to arrive. However, she had not been at the entry when the first of the strangers crossed the threshold, and none would admit to having entered after the others. Indeed, it wasn’t clear even to them who had stepped inside the building first, as they had not paid attention to anything but their desire to escape the driving rain.

At a loss, the Innkeeper led the three men to the common room, settled them around the ash pit where a kettle of steaming water was kept hot over coals, and asked if they would be willing to decide between themselves who should be given the room. With the promise of tea and hot soup to warm them up while they talked, the strangers acquiesced to this plan. Relieved, the Innkeeper promised to keep a careful watch over their saddlebags in the meanwhile.

“So, ‘friends,’ how do we go about making this decision?” asked a sun-browned man with white hair. He introduced himself to the others as Shojumaru and revealed that he was a merchant travelling from the port of Sakai. “Trial by combat? Heh heh?” He laughed a little at his own joke, but his black gloved hand stroked the hilt of his sword with an emphasis that suggested he wouldn’t mind being taken seriously.

“Dear me, you are rather bloodthirsty for a merchant, Shojumaru.” With a gleam in his amber-gold eyes, the speaker shifted position, revealing a musket at his side. “Although that certainly would be one way to eliminate the competition for the room would it not?”

The third man, a tall man with smoky eyes and red-brown hair, who had introduced himself as Shin, a pilgrim on his way to the shrine at Togakushi, spoke up. “It also would create quite the mess that this poor maid would have to clean up.” He winked at the young woman who brought their tea, “thank you, Angel,” then returned his attention to the other two. “And it would be an unpleasant death for you…”

He tilted his head toward the man with the musket, who obligingly supplied his name. “Kyubei. And why would that be?”

“In this weather, a matchlock weapon is more than likely too wet to fire. Shojumaru could cut you down before you even lit the fuse.” He took a long sip of tea, calm and ambivalent to the potential death of this Kyubei.

“Heh. And what would stop me from killing you after that, Shin?” Shojumaru seemed half-excited, half-curious about that prospect.

“My sheer force of personality,” Shin replied with a friendly smile. “Besides, we can contest the room without spilling blood. Why not simply challenge each other to a game of riddles?”

Though Shojumaru scoffed at this suggestion, Kyubei’s face held a flicker of interest. “A battle of the minds? Intriguing idea. Yes. I would be pleased to match wits with… you both.”

“If the two of you are content to play children’s games, then I’m more ‘an happy to take advantage of the easy win.” The merchant waved away the maid bearing a plate of fish stew with a grumpy gesture. “I ain’t hungry.”

After a brief consultation, it was decided that each contestant would ask one riddle. Answering the riddle correctly would yield one point, while posing an unanswerable question would net two.

In spite of his initial reluctance, Shojumaru willingly offered the first riddle. “What is the one question that you can never answer yes to?”

“Are you asleep?” Kyubei responded immediately.

“That, is a question I have never needed to ask any of my companions.” Rather than directing his response to the others, Shin slanted a wicked grin to the maid who refilled his tea, and was rewarded with a shy blush.

Kyubei ignored the byplay between Shin and the maid. “Try this one – it involves numbers, Shojumaru, so as a merchant you ought to have no problem.” He cleared his throat, and recited, “Eleven men walking by, eleven pears hanging high. Each man takes a single pear and leaves eleven hanging there. How is this so?”

But it was Shin who answered the so-called mathematical question first. “I can explain that easily. There were twenty-two pears to begin with, hanging in pairs of two. Thank you, Kyubei, I do enjoy word play.” As it was his turn to ask a question, he continued. “When I am soft, I cut through rocks, but when I am hard, you will need no locks.”

His opponents paused so long that it might have been understandable for Shin to consider himself the victor, before Shojumaru slapped his hand on the table hard enough for their cups to vibrate, causing tea to slop over the edges. “A river. The rushing water in spring will cut through the land, and when frozen, there’s no need for a lock to traverse it.”

“Indeed. And with that, my friends, we are tied.” Shin paused to withdraw a hand towel from his kimono to blot up the tea. “Shall we continue through another round?”

“Bah, once was enough for me.” Shojumaru called the maid over and requested that she bring his pack to him. Once reunited with his luggage, he rooted around until he found a deck of karuta. “You gents familiar with the Nanban game ‘Ombre’?”

Neither was, but both were willing enough to learn it, if it meant earning the right to that last bed. Although the rules were somewhat complex, the game itself was a simple enough structure of rounds that included bidding to determine the strongest suit amongst the ‘cups, coins, clubs, and swords,’ followed by highest card takes the hand. The three men each found themselves almost enjoying the bidding rounds, for, as Shin put it, “there is a rather crude strategy in determining your own cards’ strongest points and deciding whether their opposites are contained in your opponents’ hand or in the pile.”

Kyubei gazed at him over his own hand. “You display a rather deep understanding of strategy for a simple pilgrim, Shin.”

“And you’re rather cheeky for a simple courier, Kyubei.” Shin seemed unconcerned by either the implied threat from Kyubei or his own observations. With a smile, he glanced at Shojumaru. “Meanwhile Shojumaru is rather volatile for a merchant. All people are more than what they appear to be – and on a stormy night like tonight, perhaps it would be best for everyone if we take them for what they seem.”

“Are the two of you going to gab, or play the game?” Shojumaru tossed down a card that was overtaken instantly by Kyubei’s higher one.

“I believe that is … what was the term you used? Sacada?” Kyubei raked in the pile of stones the group was using as currency. “I also believe, Shojumaru, that you are out of markers, and therefore have lost.”

With a scowl, Shojumaru gathered up the deck. “In that case, I’ll leave you two to fight over the room.” He called for the maid to find his geta and mino, as he shouldered his pack. “There must be another Inn nearby that will have a room.”

With a mocking bow, he took his leave of them. Once he was safely outdoors, Shojumaru grinned widely and directed a laugh to the skies, for though Shojumaru was indeed a name from his childhood, his true name was Mouri Motonari, the God of Deceit. Motonari was satisfied with the events of the night. He’d tested the skills of two of the era’s most renowned spymasters, obtained insight into how they operated, and escaped without them learning his identity.

Yes, it had been a good night.

Back inside the Inn…

“He lost on purpose,” Shin told Kyubei, for he had kept track of the cards played.

“I figured as much.” Kyubei glanced around the room, nodding to another man, a man with long dark hair. The dark haired man nodded back, then headed out into the storm. “Hm. I wonder if the proprietor keeps a shogi set on hand… unless you’d be willing to give up the room to a simple courier.”

“I would not.” Shin signaled the Innkeeper. “Although playing shogi amounts to much the same, for I am in no way a master of that game.” Even with that disclaimer, he was willing enough to play, and as the Innkeeper did keep a game board on hand, the two moved to a low table to continue their competition.

Kyubei tossed five tokins onto the board – enough landed promotion side up to designate him the first player. As both men stuck to standard moves to open the board, they were able to make idle conversation. “You sent your man out after him?” Shin didn’t identify the ‘him,’ but Kyubei correctly interpreted the question to mean Shojumaru.

“Dear me, who do you take me for? We’ve already established that I’m only a simple courier.” At Shin’s disbelieving look, Kyubei added, “I imagine that someone interested in the activities of this Shojumaru would be extremely incompetent if he did not have the man followed.” Kyubei advanced the silver general. “There could be any number of interested parties out there following him… ninjas… mitsumono…?”

“One could make that assumption.” It would be an incorrect assumption; the mitsumono were actually tailing ‘Kyubei’s’ man. As Shin did not care to continue that line of conversation, he picked up a shogi piece and turned it over and over in his hand. “I find it interesting that the only two characters in shogi who cannot be promoted are the king and the gold general, for the king cannot become a God, and the gold general… cannot become a king.”

“I find it interesting that a man so willing to philosophize about the nature of a wooden tile, is indeed not very good at this game.” Kyubei studied the board. “Unlike Shojumaru, I can tell that you are making a concerted attempt to win here. You are not even close to succeeding.” He shook his head and tsked. “I truly hoped to find a competent opponent in you.”

Unconcerned, Shin attempted to wrest the tide of the game back to himself. “I did tell you that in Shogi, I am no more than an amateur.”

“So you did. I hoped it was a lie to lure me in.” Kyubei’s castle formation closed in on Shin’s king.

“Would I do that?” Shin winced as one of his pawns was taken off the board. “As it happens, I find there are too many other things that need doing ahead of practicing a game, even one that involves complicated strategy.” Shin took another long moment to admire the tea maid – and she took a much longer one to admire him back. “Why play a strategy game, when so much of life… love… war… is already strategic?”

“Because,” Kyubei replied, as he picked up the rook, “it’s never simply a game. One can learn so much about an opponent by facing them across the board. Are they ruthless? Are they focused? Who are they willing to sacrifice to achieve victory? Who do they try to save?” He gestured to the game board, where Shin’s pawns were mostly all still in play, alive, unsacrificed. Then he placed the rook before the king. “Checkmate.”

Without waiting for Shin to confirm, Kyubei stood up. “I believe I have won the right to the room.” He bowed to Shin, then followed the waiting maid up to the second floor, to claim his prize of a room and a bed for the night. As he made himself comfortable on the futon, he smiled to himself. Yes, it had been a profitable evening. One of his spies was making headway on the identity of this Shojumaru, he had bested the Tiger of Kai in a game of shogi, and more importantly, he’d obtained insight into how his opponent thought and operated. With that happy thought, the Silver Kitsune, whose name was not Kyubei, but Mitsuhide, dropped off to sleep.

Ah, but do not worry about the man Mitsuhide called the Tiger of Kai. While Shin had kept the other two men occupied with the games, the Innkeeper, who was one of his mitsumono, had carefully searched their belongings. Nor was he going to be turned away without a soft place to sleep, for the maid invited him to spend the remainder of the night in her bed. Yes, he too was pleased with the evening. Not only did he have a warm bed and an enthusiastic companion, but he’d gained insight into how his opponents thought and operated. With that happy thought, the man, whose name was not Shin, but Shingen, dropped a kiss on the forehead of the well-satisfied maid, cuddled her close, and drifted into sleep.

And so, while the tale of the game between The Silver Kitsune, The Tiger of Kai, and the God of Deceit began ominously, not with a ‘once upon a time,’ but ‘a dark and stormy night,’ it ended happily enough for all involved parties.

…especially the maid.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen fanfic #ikemen sengoku fanfiction #ikesen shingen #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen motonari #shingen takeda #mitsuhide akechi #mori motonari #fanfic #caper #request #answered #follower celebration #anniversary celebration #something chaotic this way comes #cursed bingo

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metamorphesque · 3 years ago

Note

hi, thank you for you!

could you please recommend some of your favourite poems/poets? something powerful

Thank you, lovely 🌼

1. Ocean Vuong (honestly, all of his poems are heart-wrenching)

Headfirst

Stupid boy.

You can get lost in every book

but you’ll never forget yourself

the way god forgets

his hands.

Homewrecker

Because the year is a distance

we’ve traveled in circles. Which is to say: this is how

we danced: alone in sleeping bodies. Which is to say:

this is how we loved: a knife on the tongue turning

into a tongue.

Because it's summer

you say thank you thank you thank you

because you haven’t learned the purpose

of forgive me because that’s what you say

when a stranger steps out of summer

& offers you another hour to live

Seventh circle of Earth

As if my finger, / tracing your collarbone / behind closed doors, / was

enough / to erase myself. To forget / we built this house knowing / it

won’t last. How / does anyone stop / regret / without cutting / off his

hands? /

On Earth we're briefly gorgeous

You, pushing your body into the river

only to be left with yourself—

stay.

To my father / to my future son

Use it to prove how the stars

were always what we knew

they were: the exit wounds

of every misfired word.

Notebook Fragments

God must be a season, grandma said, looking out at the blizzard

drowning

her garden.

2. Richard Siken

Portrait of Fryderyk in Shifting Light by Richard Siken

What can you know about a person? They shift

in the light. You can’t light up all sides at once. Add

a second light and you get a second darkness, it’s only

fair. He is looking at the wall and I am looking at his

looking.

The Language of the Birds

A man had two birds in his head—not in his throat, not in his chest—and the birds would sing all day never stopping. The man thought to himself, One of these birds is not my bird. The birds agreed.

Logic

There's a dream in the

space between the hammer and the nail: the dream of

about-to-be-hit, which is a bad dream, but the nail will

take the hit if it gets to sleep inside the wood forever.

The field of rooms and halls

I put my sadness in a box. The box went soft and wet and weak at the bottom. I called it Thursday. Today is Sunday. The town is empty.

Landscape with a Blur of Conquerors

It should be enough. To make something

beautiful should be enough. It isn’t. It should be

3. Charles Bukowski

Raw with love

little dark girl with kind eyes

you have no

knife. the knife is

mine and I won't use it

yet.

The Crunch

we forget the terror of one person

aching in one room

alone

unkissed

untouched

cut off

watering a plant alone

without a telephone that would never

ring

anyway.

Bluebird

we forget the terror of one person

aching in one room

alone

unkissed

untouched

cut off

watering a plant alone

without a telephone that would never

ring

anyway.

The Genius of the Crowd

but there is genius in their hatred

there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you

to kill anybody

not wanting solitude

not understanding solitude

they will attempt to destroy anything

that differs from their own

The Laughing Heart

Your life is your life

Don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.

Be on the watch.

There are ways out.

There is a light somewhere.

It may not be much light but

It beats the darkness.

4. Anne Carson

The Glass Essay

You remember too much,

my mother said to me recently.

Why hold onto all that? And I said,

Where can I put it down?

Red Doc

To feel anything deranges you. To be seen feeling anything strips you naked. In the grip of it, pleasure or pain doesn't matter.

5. Rainer Maria Rilke (but mainly in German)

Extinguish Thou My Eyes (Lösch mir die Augen aus)

Extinguish Thou my eyes:I still can see Thee, deprive my ears of sound:I still can hear Thee, and without feet I still can come to Thee, and without voice I still can call to Thee.

I find you (Ich finde dich)

I find you in all these things: all that is good in me and in my brothers, like a tiny seed you bask in the sun and in the vastness you greatly give of yourself

6. Joseph Brodsky (but mainly in Russian)

Don't leave the room, don't make a mistake ( Не выходи из комнаты, не совершай ошибку.)

Don’t leave your room, don’t commit that fateful mistake. Why risk the sun? Just settle back at home and smoke. Outside’s absurd, especially that whoop of joy, you’ve made it to the lavatory--now head back straight away!

A Song

It's evening, the sun is setting; boys shout and gulls are crying. What's the point of forgetting if it's followed by dying?

7. Marina Tsvetaeva (in Russian)

I am happy simply living

I am happy living simply: like a clock, or a calendar. Worldly pilgrim, thin, wise—as any creature.

Where does this tenderness come from?

Where does this tenderness come from? And what will I do with it? Young stranger, poet, wandering through town, you and your eyelashes—longer than anyone’s.

8. Paul Verlaine

Les sanglots longs Des violons De l'automne Blessent mon cœur D'une langueur Monotone.

The long sobs Of violins Of autumn Wound my heart With a monotonous Languor.

9. Vahan Teryan (in Armenian)

My mother’s hands

My mother's hands were tapered slim like candles that might burst in flame. My mother's voice was like a balm soothing each pain, calling each name.

Carousel

In that far-off world the song I sang was one we all knew: "I love you but you don't love me." How banal and predictable. Now.

10. Paruyr Sevak (in Armenian)

Without words

I know what has changed, my dear, It’s always like that, When someone insane and crazy like me, Opens his heart without words To someone modest and shy like you…

When i was busy on Mars

When I was busy farming on Mars, Sitting dreamily in my small city room, My poor door suddenly underwent a formidable ordeal: You were knocking.

#poems #poetry #literature #book recs #classic literature

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deviliciousdev · 4 years ago

Text

MBTI✨ The Gatsby Method 🎩🖤pt3

(the conclusion)

entp (the debater)

infj (the advocate)

budding romance

(ft. intp (the logician) x entj (the commander) & enfp (the campaigner) x intj (the architect) friends)

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

[Sunday night🌙, 9:45pm, party number 3🍾🥂🍻]

entj: [walking up to intp and enfp] am i gonna barf or am i gonna do a ton of online shopping... that's the game i'm playing after THREE DAYS OF PARTIES!

intp: [trying not to laugh] i know entj, i know. but it's for entp. they said it's something.

entj: [eye twitching] what. does. that. even. MEAN?!

enfp: oh i've learned not to ask that when it comes to the xntp twins of chaos, you'll never figure out their nerdy twin language.

intp: [shrugs and nods]

entp: [on other side of party, goes up to intj in kitchen] hey.

intj: entp...

entp: yeah?

intj: why is your mail man here?

entp: well after three days of parties and because it's a sunday, i had to pat the guest list... a bit... [sips whiskey]

intj: ah. so that older gentleman in the overalls, eating dip... out of his... hand...

entp: my building's super.

intj: and the middle aged woman in the pilgrim skirt holding a... [quite voice] dear god... is that a weasel?? a stuffed weasel?!

entp: that's helga. we met on Tinder. and went on one date.

intj: ok... and who, who is that amazon of a woman with a long red wig in a teal leotard and feather boa...

entp: oh she is actually a friend of mine. her stage name is Yves St. Ariel, she's a drag queen intp and i met in Amsterdam, when we were venturing down the red light district.

intj: sure. why would i expect anything less.

[almost midnight]

entj: [to intp] ok, *hicup* you said if we go to this tonight we get a dog... where, where is the puppy intp??? huh? because i see *hiccup* no dog, but i do forrrseee a board meeting at 10am that i will be hung over at tomorrow...

intp: well, drunk entj, i would get us a dog except sober entj would point out how much both of us work and that we live in a two bedroom apartment in the city...

entj: well... they're stupid...

intp: yes, yes, they are...

entj: ANYWAY WHY ARE WE HERE?!

intp: you're shouting.

entj: NO, YOU ARE *hiccup* [sees entp] ANNNNND YOU! YOU ARE THE SCORGUE TO MY EXISTENCE... WE HAVE HAD 3 PARTIES OVER THREE DAYS FOR SOMEONE WHO CLEARLY IS A FLAKE OR A COWARD WHO JUST CANT SAY NNOOOO, AND THE GREAT GASTBY WAS A TRAGEDY OR DID YOU NOT FINISH THE BOOK, BECAUSE SPOILER ALERT HE DIES!

intp: [motioning for entj to stop talking, and pointing behind entj]

entj: AND NEWSFLASH E.N.T.P YOUUUU ARE WAITING FOR SOMEONE WHO IS NOT AND WILL NEVER COME!!!

entp: 😐...

intp: 😬 um, entj id like you to meet infj... [turns entj around to meet infj standing directly behind them]

entj: [big friendly, opps smile] soooooo nice to meet you, everyone is thrilled you could finally make it [nervous chuckle]

intp: [trying to not burst into laughter] [looks at entp] ya i know, i should probably just get entj home...

entp: yeah. quickly.

entj: [as they and intp are walking out the door] thanks for having us entp, we should do it again, but may be in like a few months or years...

intj: [sarcastically to entp] wow, so nice of them to come...

infj: you had 3 parties... for me...

entp: ummmm.... yes?

enfp: pretty romantic huhhhhh??

intj: more like creepy...

enfp: or romantic!!

infj: um yeah... i think i'm gonna go...

[infj starts to leave]

entp: wait hold up! [runs after them]

[in the hallway]

entp: look i know this probably seems weird and crazy, but i swear i'm not- will you- will you just come up to the roof with me??

infj: what??

entp: the- uh roof... it's kinda the main reason i had the parties ahaha

infj: to show me... the roof...

entp: uh yeah aha... [rubs neck]

infj: i can't believe i'm gonna say this but uh, sure...

[on the roof 🌃]

infj: [hesitant, until they see the view 🌃😍] wooow...

entp: so uh... ya like it??

infj: it's incredible, you can see the whole city... is that the bay?? wow...

entp: [secretly over joyed, but plays it cool]😁😎

infj: so why did you do all of these "parties"?? why didn't you just invite me over to go up on the roof?? aha.😄

entp: well, umm ya know you said you weren't dating rn, and just wanted to be friends... so, i didn't wanna put any pressure on you, but i also really wanted to hang out with you lol... that was probably a bad idea in hindsight... and now you probably want nothing to do with- [infj kisses entp]

entp: [after the long kiss] 😳😎

infj: you Gastby-ed...

entp: ahaha... i Gatsby-ed...

[infj leans head on entp's shoulder as the look at the view... 🌃🖤]

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thatsamericano · 4 years ago

Text

Palm to Palm is Holy Palmers’ Kiss

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano. Hungary, Ancient Greece, and Canada are mentioned.

Genre: Fluffy high school human AU. No warnings. Teen-rated for minor cursing and mildly suggestive making out.

Word Count: 2154

Notes: Written for the Day 2 prompt “hand kiss” on @hetaliancupid-hetaliaevent. The title is taken from a scene in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, which is also quoted in the fic.

Summary: Alfred needs help rehearsing his lines for the school production of Romeo and Juliet, and his best friend Savino agrees to help him. But the fact that Alfred is playing Romeo and Savino is reading Juliet’s lines makes things complicated, especially since they’re rehearsing the first kiss scene.

“Hey, Vinny, do you mind helping me rehearse my lines a little? I’m supposed to start rehearsals with Erzsébet tomorrow, and I want to make sure I have them memorized by then.”

Savino glanced up from the math homework he’d barely started and saw his best friend Alfred standing there with a hopeful grin, sky blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses, and an opened script book held in his hands. For his own well-being, Savino should have refused and told Alfred he was too busy to help him read lines. Alfred was starring in the upcoming school play as the male lead in Romeo and Juliet, and Erzsébet was playing his love interest. The last thing Savino needed was to torture himself by reading romantic lines to his best friend and secret crush when he would never have the guts to say anything romantic to him in any other context. But, unfortunately for him, Savino had never been good at refusing Alfred, especially when he pulled out the puppy dog eyes.

Savino frowned as he shoved his math book, his pencil, and the sheet of notebook paper he’d been using into his messenger bag. “I’ve got a lot of other shit to do, so I’ll help, but not if it’s gonna take too long.”

Alfred bounced over and plopped down on the couch next to him. “Don’t worry, dude. I just need you to help me with this one scene.” Alfred passed the script over to him. “My lines start at the top of page 15.”

Savino gulped when he saw that Alfred wanted him to rehearse the fucking kissing scene from Act 1. Jesus Christ. That was worse than the goddamned balcony scene.

He quickly glanced over Alfred’s shoulder just to make sure they were alone in the student lounge. Rehearsing this scene with Alfred would be embarrassing even without witnesses, but Savino couldn’t stand for them to have an audience.

Alfred abruptly grabbed his left hand, and Savino quickly glanced down at the page to make sure Alfred was reading his lines correctly. “If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss,” Alfred said. He read the lines perfectly, with a sincere, lovestruck tone that was appropriate to the scene. No wonder he had been cast as the lead in the school play.

Alfred bent his head down to brush a feathery kiss over Savino’s knuckles, and Savino trembled. Alfred wasn’t the best at picking up on the subtleties of body language, but Savino wasn’t being subtle, so Alfred noticed right away. He gave Savino a worried look. “Are you okay? I’m sorry if this is weirding you out. I wouldn’t normally kiss your hand, but I’m supposed to kiss Juliet’s hand according to all the movie versions of this I’ve seen. And I think it will be easier for me to remember my lines if I stay in character.”

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it, that was all.” It wasn’t fine, but not for the reasons Alfred believed. Savino knew he wouldn’t be able to stop daydreaming about that simple hand kiss for weeks.

He cleared his throat and read Juliet’s responding lines out loud. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.” His delivery was much more awkward than Alfred’s had been, but Savino wasn’t an actor and had never claimed to be.

Alfred shifted his hand a little so that their palms were touching. “If touching our palms together is kissing, what’s lacing our fingers together? Making out on the couch?”

Savino narrowed his eyes and tried to push the thought of them ignoring the script and making out on the same couch they were sitting on to the back of his mind. “Idiota, you know that isn’t the line.”

Alfred shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly. “I know. I was just wondering. The metaphor doesn’t really hold up, in my opinion.”

Savino rolled his eyes, and Alfred got back into character. He gave him a coy look, like he was trying to flirt. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

Savino quickly glanced down at the script book to read his next line. “Ay pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” Alfred inched closer to him on the couch, like he was preparing to kiss him, and Savino couldn’t help stammering a little as he read his reply.

“S-saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.”

Alfred let go of his hand to cup his cheek, which had heated up, no thanks to all the blushing he was doing. “Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”

Alfred started to lean in, and Savino leapt off the couch, dropping the script book in the process. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! I agreed to help you read lines, not kiss you, you stupid stronzo!” Under different circumstances, he would be thrilled to kiss Alfred. But he was not going to help Alfred rehearse how he planned to kiss another person. Savino may have had a problem going along with Alfred’s whims even when he shouldn’t, but he wasn’t an emotional masochist. Kissing Alfred when it wouldn’t mean anything was more pain than he was willing to put himself through.

Alfred pouted up at him. “Dude, Mrs. Karpusi told me and Erzsi we don’t actually have to kiss. We just have to make it look like we’re kissing. That’s why I covered your cheek. So that when I leaned in and stayed about an inch away from your lips, it would look like we were kissing if we had been onstage.”

“Oh. That makes a lot of sense, actually.” Savino crossed his arms over his chest in an automatic attempt to shield himself since he was embarrassed by his own overreaction. Of course Alfred wouldn’t try to kiss him. He’d never even want to kiss him.

Alfred sighed. “I’m sorry I freaked you out. I wouldn’t try to kiss you just because I’m rehearsing a play. I know you don’t see me like that.” His body had slumped as he talked, and he was glancing over at the vending machine instead of making eye contact. His entire demeanor seemed despondent, and his mood seemed to be caused by something bigger than the fact that his best friend had just accused him of doing something he’d never even think of doing.

No, Savino thought to himself. That wasn’t possible. Unless…

“Do… do you want me to see you that way?” As soon as he asked the question, Savino wished he hadn’t. He immediately expected Alfred to laugh and tell him he was being ridiculous, but instead, Alfred sniffled and rubbed at his eyes.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you,” Alfred confessed quietly. “I figured, what was the point? It’s not like I have any clue what I’m doing when it comes to this stuff. I never even liked anybody before you, much less kissed anyone or gone on a date. You could have anyone at this school, except for the lesbians and straight guys. Why the hell would you want a dumbass like me?”

Savino sat back down on the couch. “You’re not a dumbass. At least not because you’re inexperienced and feel like you don’t know what you’re doing. Everyone feels like that sometimes. But you are a dumbass for thinking that you not having a relationship before would make me not want to be with you.”

Alfred smiled weakly. “You don’t have to be nice to make me feel better. I wasn’t expecting you to feel the same way.”

“I’m not being nice! I’m not a fucking nice person! I’m trying to tell you that I like you too! I jumped away when I thought you were gonna kiss me only because I couldn’t take you kissing me when it wouldn’t have meant anything!” It probably wasn’t fair for him to explode on Alfred like that, but, God, Savino was so frustrated.

“Oh.” Alfred grinned for real this time, completely unfazed by the fact his friend had just been yelling at him. “Really?”

Savino nodded. “Yes.”

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting this to happen.” Alfred blushed and fidgeted with his hands, uncharacteristically shy. “If I had kissed you, it would’ve meant something to me. Not just because it would’ve been my first, but because it’s you. You’re really special to me, Vinny.”

“You—you’re really special to me too, caro.” Savino was nowhere near as suave as he would normally be in this kind of situation. He had more romantic experience than Alfred, but when he was around his best friend, he felt like a little kid experiencing a crush for the first time.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you now? I mean, we don’t have to, but I really want to.”

“I want that too.”

“Awesome.” Alfred started to lean down towards him, and Savino’s eyes fell shut in anticipation.

Alfred obviously wasn’t an experienced kisser. He started very hesitantly, at least until Savino began to reciprocate. Then, he pressed his lips into Savino’s in a clumsy, overeager way that made Savino’s heart soar. When Savino attempted to deepen the kiss, Alfred tried to do the same thing, and their teeth knocked together.

Savino pulled away with a pained grimace. “Ow.”

Alfred winced. “Sorry. But uh, before I hurt your teeth, was I any good?”

“You were amazing,” Savino answered honestly. “You shouldn’t doubt yourself so much.”

“You were amazing too. I mean, I knew it would probably feel good, but I didn’t know it would feel like that. My mouth felt super tingly, and my heart was beating so fast I thought I was gonna pass out. Getting to kiss you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Savino was flattered by Alfred’s effusive, unprompted praise. “Grazie. Um, if I kiss you again, do you think you can stay relatively still?”

“I can try.” That was a good enough answer for Savino, and he leaned up to initiate a second kiss.

This time, Alfred kept his head still enough to prevent any more teeth-related accidents. But the way he moaned into the kiss wasn’t remotely saint-like, and neither was the way he buried his hand in Savino’s curls. Savino certainly wasn’t a saint himself.

When he needed to breathe, Savino reluctantly ended the kiss and laid a gentle peck on Alfred’s lips before shifting back on the couch. Alfred blinked at him dazedly, and his kiss-swollen lips stretched into a goofy grin.

“Damn, Savi. I was really excited about holding your hand earlier, but kissing you was way more intense than the holy palmer’s kiss thing Juliet talked about. Way, way more intense.”

Savino snorted. “Speaking of the play, do you still need to rehearse your lines?”

“Nah, I think I’m good. But if we go back to my dorm room, maybe we can rehearse the kissing thing some more.” Alfred winked in a cheesy, incredibly ridiculous manner. Part of Savino felt amused, but mostly he felt warm all over.

“What about your brother?” It would be incredibly awkward if Matthew was there when they got to Alfred’s dorm room.

“Mattie’s got hockey practice today, so he won’t be back for hours. We should get plenty of time alone.”

Savino helped Alfred find the script book he had dropped earlier, and he took the hand Alfred extended towards him as they left the student lounge. Alfred hummed to himself with a content expression on his face as they left the building and started heading back towards the student dorms.

“You look really happy,” Savino remarked softly.

“Why wouldn’t I be happy? I’m with you. Wait, I am with you, right?”

Savino squeezed Alfred’s hand before he could start to doubt how Savino felt about him. “Don’t worry, you are.” They might not have defined what their relationship was yet, but Savino was willing to be with Alfred in whatever way he wanted.

“Then I’m happy that I’m with the hottest guy in the world. I bet all the people around me are super jealous right now.”

Savino wasn’t paying much attention to the other students walking around in the quad, but he doubted they were all jealous of Alfred. Many were probably confused or curious, and others were certainly jealous of Savino right now.

Savino smirked smugly at a girl who looked irritated when she spotted them together and leaned into Alfred’s side. “I think they’re jealous of both of us, tesoro. They have good reason to be. And for the record, I’m happy too.”

#hetaliancupid #hetalia #romerica #hws america #hws romano #hws south italy #aph america #aph romano #aph south italy #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #hetalia high school au #hws fanfic #hws fanfiction #aph fanfic #aph fanfiction #original post #my writing

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janeyseymour · 4 years ago

Text

So Thankful

For my dear friend Ay: I don’t think I followed the prompt all that well and I definitely had ideas that didn’t make it into it because I knew what I wanted to write, but then I forgot them... so this is what we’re working with. I hope you enjoy dear friend!

Thanksgiving was always chaotic in the house of the queens. The first year that they were back was quite confusing to all of them.

“Hey Lina?” Jane beckoned the first queen over to where she was standing at the calendar.

“What’s up Jane?”

“Do you know what Thanksgiving is?” She pointed at the word written across that day.

“Oh! I do!” Anne bounced in from the living room. “So, it started when America became colonized in the 1600s by Britain. The pilgrims had a feast. Well, a while later, Lincoln, America’s 16th president, declared it a day. In 1789, the congress passed it as a national holiday that is celebrated every November on the fourth Thursday. It’s a day where families get together and eat. They typically go around the table before their meals and ask what everyone is thankful for. To me, it’s kind of silly that that’s what the holiday has come down to considering the rich history of it, but-”

“We’re celebrating it. We all have so much to be thankful for, and we need to recognize it.”

“Cool. I’ll tell the others.” Anne ran upstairs, her small footsteps sounding like a herd of elephants as she called for the others.

“Wait! Anne!” Jane called. “What are we supposed to eat?”

“Turkey! Stuffing! Cornbread! Corn! Vegetables! Mashed potatoes! Mac n Cheese! But not the boxed kind- homemade. You know, that kind of stuff. And dessert! Pies! Pumpkin pie, apple pie, pecan pie! All the dessert!”

Catherine glanced at Jane in confusion.

“I guess when she says she reads, she’s really not lying,” Jane offered with a shrug of her shoulders.

And so, here the queens were, a few years later. Not only had they kept up on their tradition of having a Thanksgiving feast, but this year, they had new additions to the meal.

“So, if you’d like, you’re more than welcome to come over for Thanksgiving. I know Becky, Dawn and Ogie are in town too, and they’re more than welcome to join! The more the merrier!” Jane smiled into the phone.

“Oh girl, that’d be great. I’ll bring the pies for dessert. What time do you guys normally start eating?”

“We try to have everything set on the table by 3, but you know how that can be. So, it’s usually all done around 5. But you guys are more than welcome to come over at any time that day!”

“Great! And Lu is always more than welcome to come hang out while we do all this stuff if you want her out of your hair.”

“I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear that,” Jenna couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.

Thanksgiving day had come, and the queens house was nothing if not chaotic.

“Anne Boleyn, out of my kitchen!” Jane had screeched for the thousandth time that day. All she was trying to do at this point was make the stuffing with her youngest cousin.

“Janey, I’m just trying to-”

“I know you’re trying to help, and I really appreciate it, but you can’t keep opening and closing the oven door or the turkey is never going to be done! Why don’t you go help Anna?” Anne nodded and bounced down to the basement where they had set up a make-shift kitchen for the fourth queen.

“Hey Jane?” Kat said slowly.

“What?” the blonde hissed, a bit more bark in her voice than she would have liked.

“I cut myself.” The pink haired queen displayed her finger.

“Go clean yourself up. I’m pretty sure Aragon is done with the vegetables for now, so I’ll see if she can help with the stuffing.” Jane put her head in her hands. Of course this would happen. It wasn’t a holiday if Kat didn’t accidentally cut her finger trying to slice bread.

The fifth queen nodded and walked upstairs, only to have her body in the kitchen replaced with the golden queen’s.

“How ever did I expect this to happen?” Catherine grinned, rubbing a hand on Jane’s shoulder on her way to Kat’s station. She grabbed a new knife and continued on with the bread cutting. “Relax Jane. It’s all going to be okay. And think of it this way: Jenna’s in charge of dessert this year, so that’s one less thing you have to worry about.”

“You’re right, but with the-” Jane counted in her head. “-six extra mouths to feed, we have to really up our game and make double what we usually make. And Jenna’s pregnant.”

“Hey, you know Dawn and Lu eat like birds. Together, they make up one of our mouths.” The doorbell rang. “Speaking of, there’s Lu now.” The two motherly queens walked to the door, and peaked their heads out.

“What’s the password?” Jane allowed herself to be silly for a moment.

“Aunt Janey! And Lina!” Lulu bounced from her spot on her mother’s hip. She squirmed to be let down, eliciting a giggle from the two women in the house.

“She’s been up and begging to come over since five this morning.”

“I was up anyway. Tried to start on the turkey before Hurricane Anne was awake, but she came bouncing down five minutes later. We would’ve let her come.”

“See Mama? I told you Aunt Janey would’ve been up!”

“Come on in little Lu! We’ve got your apron all ready for you, and I’m sure Annie will be so excited to hear that you’re finally here! She’s been asking about you all morning.” What Jane had said wasn’t far from the truth. Questions about when their little friend would join them began at approximately eight in the morning.

“Be good for your girls!” the baker called out to her daughter who was already bouncing down the queens’ steps to the basement.

“She always is. How are the pies coming along?” Catherine made conversation with the woman.

“Dawn, Becky, and I made 'em up last night. Told the boys they were in charge of putting them in the oven, so they should be almost done!”

“Great. Did you want to come in and have a glass of wine or something?”

“I’d love to, but I promised the idiots at home I’d only be a few minutes. And, I don't entirely trust Ogie and Jim not to burn down my kitchen. I know Becky and Dawn-” Jenna laughed as she remembered the time Becky almost set their diner on fire. “-well, Dawn, could handle it, but not without having a full blown panic attack.”

“I’ve got you. Sounds like you have a couple hurricanes at your house right now.”

“That I do. But now, you’ve got... all of your hurricanes and my little hurricane.”

“She’s never a problem Jenna. I promise you, we all love having her around.”

“If she gets to be too much, let me know and I’ll swing by and grab her until dinner.”

“Appreciate it, but you won’t need to. See you at four?”

“See you at four,” the baker affirmed.

“Lulu Pomatter!” the blonde called to the basement, already a bit tense after the antics that morning.

“What Aunt Janey? I’m trying to help Anna decide how much cheese to put on the mac n’ cheese! And the potatoes!”

“Hun, you just need your apron.”

“Oh!” Lulu ran up the steps and allowed Jane to help her into the clothing.

“Your mama wouldn't be too happy if I returned you with food all over you knowing you have a perfectly good apron here, now would she?” the third queen muttered as she tied the piece of cloth around the little girl.

“Thank you!” the girl with pigtails squeezed her surrogate aunt and pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek before running back downstairs to help Anna and-

“Annie! Stop eating the macaroni!”

“Oh good god,” Jane muttered to herself as she and the first queen continued to cut bread.

“Is the turkey almost done?” Anne made her way up the steps with Lulu on her hip.

“No, it’s not. And if you don't want Jane yelling at you again, I suggest you get yourself out of the kitchen,” Aragon responded, not looking up from the book she was reading.

“But I just want to see if-” the green queen cracked the oven door open slightly.

“Anne Boleyn! Close that oven door right now!” Jane’s voice could be heard from the bathroom.

“How did she know?” Lulu whispered, confused. The silver queen wasn’t in the kitchen.

“I swear, she’s got a sixth sense. Maybe she should’ve gone down in history as a witch, not me.” Aragon let out a snort- she wasn’t expecting that to come out of her successor’s mouth.

“Aunt Janey?” Lulu watched as the third queen flitted around the kitchen, setting out various dishes on the table.

“What’s up love?” Jane slowed down just a bit to get a look at the sweet girl in front of her. Her heart pained a little, feeling the absence of her son who she so dearly wished was celebrating this holiday with them.

“Could I help set the table?”

“Of course honey! You know where all of the silverware is.” Jane nodded in the direction of the drawer anyway.

“Aunt Janey?”

“Yes dear?” Jane didn't turn around from the gravy she was whisking, but she made sure to let the girl know she was listening.

“Where’s Cathy?”

“Oh, I think she’s up in her room writing some. Do you want to go see her?”

“Can I?”

“I’m sure she would love the company. And maybe, you can pry her away from her work for a little bit.”

“Do you think she might want to read my book with me? I got it at the library! It’s about Thanksgiving!”

“Why don’t we go ask her?” Jane motioned for the girl to follow her up the steps and knocked on the writer’s door.

“Yeah?” Cathy called.

“You’ve got a little munchkin wanting to visit. Think you could tear yourself away from that screen for a-”

“Cath! It’s me! It’s Lulu! Can I come in?”

The door swung open almost instantly. “If I had known you were here, I would’ve come down!” The little girl made grabbing hands towards the queen dressed in blue.

“Hey Lu? Cath?” Jane was standing at the door she had been in front of an hour before. “Dinner’s almost ready. Do you guys want to-”

“Aunt Janey! Look!” The door whizzed open, revealing Lulu, Cathy, Anne, Anna, and Kat all in paper hats covered in glitter, no doubt supplied by the fifth queen.

“We made you, Lina, Mama, Daddy, Dawn, Becky, and Ogie hats too! And Cathy wrote a play for us to all put on after dinner!”

“Hi!” Lulu opened the door for her family, sparkling hat on top of her head.

“Hey guys,” Jane nodded as she opened the door wider for the group to come in, a paper hat with silver sparkles covering much of her blonde hair.

“Holy moly!” Anne came sprinting over, seeing the three pies that Jenna was balancing along with the two pies in Jim’s hand and one that Dawn was holding. “How many pies did you make?”

“A shit ton,” Becky laughed.

“So you’re Becky?” Anne grinned, knowing that the bold woman was indeed Becky. The queens had heard enough stories to know which woman was which.

“You’re damn right I’m Becky. And Dawn here, she’s the quietest of us all. Get a couple drinks in ‘er though and-”

“Becky!” Dawn gasped.

“Alright girls, that’s enough for now,” Jenna ordered in her “mom tone”, as the two waitresses liked to call it.

“Lu, are you forgetting to give them their hats?” Catalina, the woman with such regality, had a paper hat decorated with gold sparkles.

“Oh yeah! So, while Aunt Janey and Lina were finishing up with dinner, me and the rest of my girls-”

“The girls and me,” Jim corrected gently.

“-Gosh Daddy. The rest of my girls and me,” she moaned unceremoniously. “Made hats for everyone! Like the pilgrims! And Kat had sparkles and glitter, so we decorated them! Annie told me they all had colors assigned to them for the show they were in, so they kept their colors! Lina is gold, Annie is green, Aunt Janey is silver, Anna is red, Kat is pink of course, and Cathy is dark blue! I made you three-” she handed the women their hats. “-light blue because of the uniforms at my diner. Daddy is black glitter, and Ogie too.” She handed the men their hats.

“Alright guys, what are we all thankful for?” Jane looked at the group expectantly.

“Isn’t it right that you start Janey?” Anne looked at her.

“I guess. Okay, well I’m thankful for the roof over our heads, and the food that is about to

be in my stomach. I’m thankful that Anne hasn’t burned the house down yet. And, I’m thankful for all of you. You're the best family that I’ve got. Thank you for helping get this dinner together, and for overall just always being there for me when I need it. Okay, who’s next?”

“Good god, I’m so full,” Anne remarked as she unbuttoned her pants.

“Must you do that every year?” Catherine didn’t even try to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“I hope you’re not too full, because I brought six pies.”

“Which ones?” Anne’s eyes lit up.

“Good god, I’m so full,” Anne yawned. “I don't know how you do it Jenna, but all of those pies were amazing.” The second queen had, in fact, helped herself to a slice of each and every pie the baker had brought.

Jane and Jenna had the littlest girl laying across their laps. Jim was happy to sit on the couch arm, an arm wrapped around his wife. Anne was curled into Jane’s other side, happy to be small enough to fit on the couch next to Katherine. Aragon was sitting in her recliner, Cathy perched on one couch arm, and Anna was more than happy to lay on the floor, blanket draped over her. Ogie and Dawn found their positions sitting in front of the couch, Becky above them. The hats had been carefully laid down on the kitchen table to be put away for next year.

They had cleaned up and were now watching a movie the little girl requested, but as she fell asleep, the adults began to chat and reminisce.

“I can’t believe we’re lucky enough to spend this holiday all together,” Jenna smiled. “For a long time, Thanksgiving was just Becky, Dawn, and me. But this- this is really great.”

“It’s only gotten better because you decided to join in on the chaos this year.” Jane nudged the baker. “Thank you again for the pies by the way. I’m sure they’ll be gone before the weekend because of someone.” She cast a knowing glance at the green queen curled up into her side.

“So, here’s a weird question for you,” Dawn giggle, a few glasses of wine in. “What’s the best thing that you didn’t have in the 1500s?”

“Comfortable chairs,” Catalina smiled. How she hated sitting in that uncomfortable throne for the twenty-four years she was queen.

“Shoes with wheels in them,” Anne laughed, knowing the third queen would groan.

“Comfortable clothing. I hated those stupid ass corsets we had to wear. I couldn’t work out in them!” Cleves threw in.

“Phones. I love having all of the music in the world in my hand,” Kat added without looking up from her phone.

“Computers. It was so hard physically writing everything down then. Now, if I make a mistake, I can just press the backspace.”

“Jane? You’re awful quiet.” The room’s attention turned towards the blonde, who looked up with tears in her eyes.

“The best thing that I didn’t have in the 1500s was you guys. I’m so thankful for each and every one of you.”

#six the musical #six musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #six fanfiction #six musical fanfic #waitress the musical #waitress musical #waitress the musical fanfiction

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babypink-cowboy · 5 years ago

Text

[Selfish] [P.2]

[Selfish] [P.1]

Summary: Prince Jeon Jungkook has been preparing to become king for the last 3 years of his life. While Jungkook feels as he has a good head on his shoulder, shows concern for his people, and tries his best to be a fitting substitute for his father, he can’t but feel lonely.

With his father’s condition getting worse, Jungkook will now face his very soon reality of becoming king. Fully prepared to take on the weight of leading the Kingdom of Busan, until he meets his little sister’s new tutor. You were the kind of person that couldn’t help but be thought of all the time. So much so that he begins to lag behind on his royal duties.

But what about what happened during Princess Dae’s birthday celebration? Or how now you can’t keep Jungkook out of your head, even with the impending fate of him marrying someone else, you can’t seem to shake him.

Pairing: Prince!Jungkook x Tutor!Reader

Words: 4.8k

“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook asks, your heart sputters and your eyes widen.

The prince wants to kiss me? Did I hear that right?

You lean towards him, standing on your tip toes, brushing your lips against his. “I would like that-“

“YOUR HIGHNESS!” An older man bursts out onto the balcony, you and Jungkook separate. The man’s suit slightly crumpled and he out of breath, “It’s your father, he’s collapsed.” You look at Jungkook, his face earlier was relaxed and calm, now it’s rattled with worry and stress.

“Lead me to him, Beomseok,” he tells the older man, Jungkook turns to you, “I’m sorry to cut this short, miss Y/N,” he tells you and bows. Before you can thank him for the short evening you two had already had, he was gone. Brushing back into the castle and out of reach.

“Thank you for walking me back to my room, Your Highness,” you thank the princess.

“It’s perfectly fine, it is the most royal thing to do,” Dae says as you both walk down the halls. “And please stop calling me your highness, just call me Dae,” she tells you.

You laugh a little, “Is this a royal sibling thing? Never wanting to be formally addressed?” you jokingly ask.

Dae laughs too and nods, “It seems so, but I think it’s because we want to feel a little normal,” she tells you, sounding a little far away with her final comment.

“You looked very lovely tonight, Dae,” you tell her to try and change the subject.

The young royal smiles widely, “You think so? I had been looking for a dress like this for a while and then one day at one of the fittings, there it was, just sitting in the back,” Dae chatters on about her dress and what she picked for it to make it look extra beautiful.

“You also looked lovely tonight, Y/N,” Dae compliments you, “It seems my brother also thought so,” she pushes. You smile and look at her, the little mischievous smile painting her mouth.

“What are you doing, Dae?” you tease, smirking back at her.

She feigns innocence, “Oh nothing, just seems like Jungkook was having a good time at the celebrations for once, never seen him like that before,” she tells you. You know that these are just little pieces she is laying out for you to pick up and hold onto later. Something to marvel and think about later tonight.

“Oh, we’re here already?” Dae says as you pause in front of your door, you nod and open the door.

“You will be okay going back?” you ask her and she nods.

“Of course, I will be, goodnight,” she tells you and bows and leaves. You watch the girl walk down the hall until she becomes smaller and smaller until you can no longer see her. You close your door and lean against it. You can help the smile that breaks out onto your face.

He wanted to kiss me. ME.

You cannot help but laugh at yourself a little as you wrap your arms around yourself. You stand and sway side to side, trying to recreate the memory of Jungkook’s arms around you, what it’s like to dance with him, what he smelled like, how his voice sounded. You let yourself wonder to when he thought you could not tell that he was looking at you, taking in every piece of you as if you were going to disappear.

You remember how his nose grazed your bare shoulder, you felt as if you might burn in the middle of the dancefloor. His hand on your cheek, his lips barely on yours, the tight warmth in your chest from earlier begins to bloom again.

“You seem lonely, Your Highness.”

“I think I am.”

Your heart sinks a little. The way his face looked as you danced, he seemed so far away, but when you said his name he came right back. Jungkook isn’t sure if he’s okay, you don’t think he could be, but he so good at putting up that front. A front that has probably been built on top of for years now, no wonder no one can see through it. Everyone but Dae, and now maybe even you.

You know you shouldn’t hold onto this, this small coin of hope. You don’t know what will come of this, but this is the first time you’ve felt enthralled about being the castle. Teaching is something you’ve always dreamed of, so getting to come to castle to tutor the princess was a high honor. Every day you have felt a weight of high expectations. You were from one of the outer villages, poorer than the rest but somehow you made it here. Now, the child of cattle farmers tutors the youngest royal and has the eyes of the other. Even with the uncertain future of where this little relationship could go, you still slip that small coin into your pocket, and in the back of your head you are wishing for it to multiple.

“ ‘Juliet: Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.’ ”

“ ‘Romeo: O, then, dear saint, lets lips do what hands do! They pray; grant thou; lest faith turn to despair.’ ”

“ ‘Saints do not move, though grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.’ ”

“ ‘Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine sin is purged.’”

“He kisses her,” you read, Dae’s expression is in complete focus, her back still perfectly straight but her hands are gripping the other with the strength of a vice. You glance at your watch, a gift from your mother that came in this morning, it’s 11. There is no Jungkook.

You smile sadly, “That is all for today,” you tell the young royal.

Her face drops, mouth pops open, “What? That’s all?” she asks you, her posture still unaffected.

“Dae, do you have your own copy?” you ask her.

She nods, “Yes, I do.”

“So,” you begin, “why don’t you just read it yourself?” you finish.

Dae looks down a little and plays with the layers in her gown. “Well, I like it better when you read,” she confesses.

“And why is that?” you ask while putting the book away and checking to see if you remembered your lunch this time or if you forgot again.

“Your voice is so much more prettier than mine, even though I’ve only begun my speech classes, I feel like I’ll never sound as pretty as you,” she tells you, her eyes still watching her fingers mess with the skirt of her dress.

“Dae,” you say looking up and out of your bag, “You have a wonderful voice, I remember when I was younger every little girl wanted to be you, they wanted to look like you, dress like you, sound like you,” you tell her. Dae looks up with a small smile on her face, “You should know that you’re remarkable, your highness.”

Dae smiles a little more. “Thank you,” she tells you. “Now go to lunch.”

You laugh and grab your bag, you wave Dae goodbye, even though you will see each other within the hour. With your bag on your shoulder you head out of the library and towards the garden, with it finally being spring and warm again you can’t resist the temptation of being outside. A few minutes of walking brings you to the entrance, the guards recognize by now and open the door as you walk near.

You nod as thanks and begin your walk around the garden. Bees are just now making an appearance, bumbling and bumping to the flowers. The butterflies are slowly making their way out, just little white and yellow ones fluttering about. It’s peaceful, this little stroll had become a part your everyday routine. When you’ve walked around for a bit, you sit on one of the benches and take off your shoes. With your shoes and socks hanging off of your fingers you walking in the grassy area of the garden, wiggling your toes into the thin blades. You finally settle onto a patch, crisscross your legs and pull out your lunch. You search through your bag, looking for the book you were reading for yourself, rice ball in your mouth and head in your bag.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” a voice asks.

You whip your head out of your bag, it’s Prince Jungkook, “Oof, M’ fif-“

Take the rice ball out of your mouth.

You tentatively take your lunch out of your mouth, “I mean to say, I’m fine,” you finally tell him. Jungkook smiles and lightly laughs.

“Well I only ask because you seem to be looking through your bag quite aggressively,” he tells you.

You laugh, “ah, I was looking for my book, but I can’t seem to find it,” you tell.

The little coin of hope in your pocket suddenly feels heavy as Jungkook watches you, “Would you mind if I stayed here with you?” he asks you. You feel yourself blush, the memory of dancing close to him hits you a little hard, leaving you a bit dazed. “Y/N, are you alright?” Jungkook asks, his face ghosted with concern.

You shake your head a little, “Yes, I’m alright, please stay,” you tell him.

“Thank you,” he tells as he settles down next to you.

It’s quiet, but it’s not awkward, thankfully. You silently offer him half of your lunch, he shakes his head, but you shake it a little at him. Jungkook smiles and nods, he takes one of the rice balls and pops it in his mouth.

“Good thing I made them smaller today,” you say after you finish swallowing. Jungkook laughs and takes a piece of your seaweed and munches on it. “Can I ask why you’re not with Dae today?” you question.

Jungkook nods and tentatively takes another strip of seaweed, “She said that she wanted to read,” he tells you. “She also told me that you would be here, so…” he trails off.

“So, you came to stalk me?”

“I’m pretty sure stalking is a lot less consensual,” he tells you, bumping his knee with yours.

“I don’t hear any denial,” you say, smirking at him, your lunch forgotten in your lap. “So, the prince is a stalker, and a stalker of his little sister’s tutor, hm, who would’ve thought?” you tease him.

Jungkook rolls his eyes playfully, “Would it be better if I got up and just stared at you from the entrance or even through one of the bushes?” he asks you, on the verge of laughing.

“I mean it would make you a better stalker.”

“I AM NOT A STALKER,” he playfully shouts. All staff and guards turn and look your way.

You blush but can’t help when the giggles bubble over, Jungkook joins too and soon both of you are laughing until your stomachs hurt.

“I don’t think you’re a very good stalker, Your Highness,” you say in between laughs.

“And what makes you say that?” he asks you, holding his hand over his stomach.

“Because,” you say as you finally catch your breath, “stalkers know how to be quiet,” you tell him. You let out a long happy sigh and lay down in the grass. You shove your hand into your bag and somehow you pull out your book.

You open to where you last left off, “What is it that you are reading?” Jungkook asks, trying to get a good look at the cover.

“It’s Jane Eyre, it’s a Victorian novel,” you tell him, “would you like me to read to you too?” you ask him.

“Too?” he asks.

You flip your book onto its face and place it on your chest. “Dae likes it when I read to her, sometimes she’s just like a little kid,” you tell him. “So, would you?” you ask him.

Jungkook taps his finger against his cheek, feigning to think hard, “I don’t know, what’s it about?” he asks you.

You put your hands behind your head, just to make it a little easier to look at him. “Well, it’s about this woman, Jane and she becomes a governess to this man, Mister Rochester’s, daughter, they fall in love and try to get married-“

“Try?”

“Hush and you will find out.” You tell him, “then, well, maybe I shouldn’t go there, I have read it before and I don’t want to spoil it,” you finish, slightly biting your lip.

Jungkook looks to be in actual thought now but he starts nodding his head. “It sounds interesting,” he says and makes his way onto his back and lays next to you. “Can you pick up where you left off?” he asks.

You realize now that it’s seems very possible to pop with joy.

For the last 3 days, you and Jungkook have laid out in the grass of the garden as you read Jane Eyre. You act as if you don’t notice Jungkook’s eyes following the shape of your lips more than the words on the page. You try not to grab his hand every time it comes close to yours. You especially try not to think about him after he walks you back to the library or when you go back to your room or during anything.

“ ‘Had you ever experience of such a character, sir? Did you ever love such an one?’

‘I love it now’

‘But before me: if I, indeed, in any respect come up to your difficult standard?”

‘I never met your likeness.” You read, Jungkook’s breath coming in soft puffs near your ear. You hold the book in one hand and flip your wrist to face you, it was almost time to go back to Dae and you haven’t eaten yet.

You tilt your head towards Jungkook, “I think this is a good place to stop today,” you tell him and close the book, sitting up and putting it back into your bag. “Would you like some of rice balls?” you ask him.

“Yes, I would,” he tells you and sits up, almost leaning onto you as you pull out your lunch. His fingers come up and pluck one of your rice balls and a piece of seaweed and you both happily and quietly chew your food.

A quick breeze brushes by, unlooping your hair from behind your ear and into your face. Before you could push it back, you feel Jungkook lean into your back and feel his fingers gently push your hair back behind your ear. Just the tiny bit of contact has made you full, you want to turn and look at him fully and tell him how you feel.

“Jungkook,” you say as you spin to face him. He’s looking at you with that baby soft look, the kind of look that you have found out in the last couple of days that melts you into you-sized puddles. It shrinks the wide words on your tongue to only their vowels. It makes you feel as if you are the only one meant to see this face, know this face, cause this face.

“Yes?” he asks.

You feel your cheeks warm, and drop your head but quickly pick it back up with a smile, “Thank you,” you tell him.

You can’t tell him how you feel, even if it is mutual, he’s a prince, you’re a tutor, there is nothing meant to be here.

“Anytime,” Jungkook tells you and stands, offers you his hand, you take it.

You both walk back to the library silently, not a bad quiet, just a quiet that has a million sparks running in it but you’re both a little scared that if you look at the other, you both just might explode. As you come to the library doors, you expect Jungkook to tell you goodbye or that he will see you again soon, but he doesn’t.

“Y/N,” he says, you turn to look at him. The young prince takes your hand and kisses it. “Will I see you tomorrow?” he asks.

You feel like your chest just might burst open from how warm and tight it feels, you nod, “Yes, see you then,” you tell him.

You feel that little coin of hope bump against your hip as you walk to the garden. Dae had to get your attention this morning you were so high up in the clouds. You were trying not to run, you know that nothing much will happen today, maybe he’ll lean against your back again, the weight of him against you is a heavy but it is welcomed. Or he’ll tuck a strand of your hair back behind your ear or bump his knee against yours. Or nothing at all will happen, you will just read to him and pretend like you don’t want him to lean over and hold your cheek like he did at the Dae’s birthday celebration and ask you again to kiss him. You only think of this because if Jungkook did do that, asked you for a kiss again, there would be no hesitation.

Before you just saw him at the prince, the future monarch, someone who you had only seen and heard of. Even when you first met Jungkook, though you found him extremely attractive because anyone who had met him or even gotten a glimpse of him had always said that he was handsome. But you were up close, you could see the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, but he only smiled like that for Dae. You could see how he could in a crowed room but can appear as if he is not even there. You could tell that he was lonely and that he was used to it.

That was something that bothered you as you settled into your pillow and sheets at night, that if there was affection between you and the prince, was it just because he was lonely? And not because he found you interesting or different? What if you just filled up a part of him that no one had fixed for him yet? Jungkook is 22, there should be some kind of arrangement to marry him to someone, right?

You cannot seem to shake the thoughts from your head as you settle into the grass, now the marked place where you and Jungkook lay. You let your fingers play in the grass, trying to wiggle the worry out through your fingertips.

“You seem deep in thought,” Jungkook says, suddenly popping out of no where.

Your eyes quickly jump to his, Jungkook has already settled down next to you, it’s hard not to see what he’s wearing. Instead of his normal military like suit, today he is in cotton white long sleeved shirt, that are tucked into his beige pants and matching shoes. “I didn’t hear you,” you tell him, laughing a little to hide the thoughts in your head.

He can’t read your mind.

“You’re dressed very casually today, what is the occasion?” you ask him, taking your eyes off of him and to your bag instead.

“My father wants me to meet some other diplomats today, we’ll be riding out on the horses,” he tells you as he lays down in the grass. You grab the book and settle down next to him, thumb on the page where you both left off from yesterday. Jungkook looks down at you, “Riding in a uniform is not very comfortable,” he tells you with a smile and a laugh.

You can’t help but laugh a little back, your head almost on his shoulder, “Can I ask why you are meeting them? Or is that prying?” you ask him. You watch as Jungkook’s eyes look away from your face and dart around the garden, your stomach drops a bit.

He looks back at you, smile on his face, “Just another meeting, different setting,” he tells you. You nod and open the page to where you all had left off. You don’t remember reading, just moving your mouth as you scanned the pages. This time Jungkook didn’t ask you any questions, didn’t bump your knee. When you both sat up and opened your lunch, Jungkook declined, and you didn’t push. When he walked you back to the library, he only bid you goodbye, didn’t kiss your hand. He just bowed and said, “See you tomorrow?” to which you just nodded.

Tomorrow came, but Jungkook didn’t.

You still read however, nothing had ever kept you from reading, a guy definitely won’t be the first. Even if he is a prince. You ate your lunch, but didn’t finish because you made enough for two. You slightly were hoping that Jungkook was just hiding on you, somewhere in the garden waiting for you to spot him. Then you could call him ‘a decent stalker’ and he would laugh and probably say that it’s what he’s been practicing lately. But he wasn’t.

Another day passed, you and Dae have finished Romeo and Juliet and decided to move on to another Shakespeare play, Othello. Jungkook still hadn’t shown up in the garden, not even in the bushes, you checked. Opening up Jane Eyre, you felt a small pit of guilt form in your stomach, you ignored it.

If he can’t be here, then he can’t be here. I’m not going to stop what I like to do just because he’s not here.

“He’s a prince,” you mutter under your breath, “He’s busy, and that’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay.

Another day passes and still no Jungkook, you were almost at the end of the book, you read faster when you’re not reading aloud. But coming to end of this book felt different from any other time you had read it, or any book at all for that matter. You couldn’t deny it, you felt guilty for not reading the rest with Jungkook. The little coin of hope you knew you shouldn’t have been carrying around was now too heavy to keep. You only wish it would go away, like you could actually hold it in your hands, and just hurl it off one of the towers. Or skip it across a stream. Or just lose it.

As you walked back to the library, Dae came running up on you, “Y/N! WAIT!” she called. You turn to see her with confusion on your face.

“What are you doing out here? We have to go back to class-“

“I can’t.” she tells you, out of breath. “A bunch of diplomats and other important people showed up and I have to greet them all, be a princess,” she tells you. “It’ll take a while, plus father wants me to sit in on the mid-day meeting today, he’s never asked me to do that before,” she says. “I guess Kookie could be getting married,” Dae says, a little sadly. She looks up at you, you hold yourself together, you aren’t going to cry, even though you can feel tears already pricking at your eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” Dae tells you, but you just shake your head and put on a smile.

“Sorry about what?” you ask her, a little surprised by your voice not cracking, “Go be a princess, we have tomorrow,” you tell her, bow, and leave before anyone can stop you.

You stayed in your room, didn’t peek out at all, not even for dinner. When you came back to your room, tears had already begun to slip down your face. Opening the door, closing it opened up the floodgates. You just couldn’t stop crying, Jungkook wasn’t even yours, he was just the boy you read to in the gardens and who would lean into your back to steal a rice ball even though you made extra just for him. He would tuck your hair behind your ear and would bump his knee with yours and you would pretend not to notice how he stared more at your mouth than listened to it. Jungkook was the boy who could make you laugh until your stomach hurt, he could make you feel like the only person in the whole kingdom. You make it to your bed, collapsing into it and curling underneath it’s sheets.

A knock on your door startled you, you bolted up in your bed. Your head was sore and a little sting-y from all of the crying. You still felt like you could cry more, remember more as you wake up. The knock came again, still scaring you as much as the first time, forgetting what had woken you up. You get up and shuffle to the door, opening it.

And there he was. And it hurts.

You swallow hard, “Your Highness,” you address.

Jungkook’s eyes soften as he makes his way to hold you, “Please, you know I don’t like being called-“ but as he pushes towards you, you pull back. “That.”

“I remember,” you tell him, “But that’s who you are, Your Highness, a prince and you should be addressed as such,” you say. “Good night,” you close the door, but Jungkook stops it.

“Please,” he tells you, “Just let me in,” he says.

You lean your head against the door, gritting your teeth to try and keep the tears at bay.

Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it.

You pull the door open again and Jungkook looks up at you, relieved, until he sees your tears. This time when he pushes towards you, you don’t pull back. You let the door close behind Jungkook as he takes you in his arms. You curl your arms around his neck and bury your face in his shoulder. You want to yell at him, tell him to go away, be cold, be distant, be an island.

But you can’t. You won’t.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go as you sob into his shirt, he just rubs your back and hold your head as he whispers “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Your breathing evens out and you pull away from Jungkook slightly, only to have him push toward you again. He looks at you, his eyes full with desperation, of want, of question.

“I’ve asked you this before but, can I kiss you?” Jungkook asks you quietly.

You nod your head, and you feel his lips against your cheeks, your jaw, anywhere your tears have gone. Jungkook brushes he nose against yours and you look at him, the warm, tight feeling returning, but not in your chest, but in your toes, fingertips, eyelashes and nose. Jungkook lays his lips close to yours, but they don’t touch, he grazes over your mouth before finally gives into you.

Your heart beats at million miles a minute, you can hear it in your ears and you know Jungkook must feel it too. He leans into you, putting a little weight onto as you both begin to shuffle back to your bed. You both fall down, breaking your kiss for only a moment before Jungkook comes back again.

He’s betrothed, you need to stop!

But you won’t. You’ve waited, wanted this to happen for days on end, now it’s here.

You lean back on the bed, Jungkook follows, he begins to kiss down your jaw and neck. He pulls down your shirt over your shoulder and kisses it too. He trails over your collar bones and back to your neck where he begins to leave little hickeys. You push your fingers into his hair and tug gently on it, he responds by a sharp kiss. Jungkook makes his way back up to your lips and presses them together before breaking away and hovering over you.

His eyes flicker down then back up at yours, he swallows hard, “I’m sorry,” he tells you. “My father has begun to arrange marriages for Dae and I,” he says, and your stomach drops, your head begins to hurt again. Jungkook wipes your tears that begin to slip from your eyes before you even realized they did. “There isn’t anyone-“

“Yet,” you interrupt. “There isn’t anyone yet,” you repeat hoarsely, you squeeze your eyes close and try to breathe. “I don’t even know why I keep crying,” you say, Jungkook’s own eyes begin to look glassy. You push the both of you up, you almost sitting on top of him. “You’re not even mine,” you tell him as you gently place your hands on your cheeks, your thumbs wiping away his now falling tears.

“How can I be so selfish?” you ask, laughing a little, but Jungkook wraps his arms around you. “Falling in love with someone who isn’t, couldn’t be, mine?” you continue as he gently rocks you back and forth.

Jungkook rests his head on your shoulder, you play with the end of his hair as you slowly weep. “You’re not the selfish one,” he says, “I am.”

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mortuarybees · 5 years ago

Text

It looks like this:

The aquarium is cool and dark and, apart from the occasional screams of delighted children, it’s quiet. Aziraphale is holding onto Crowley’s arm, fingers pinching the folds of his worn leather jacket, beaming all around, and Crowley feels warm pride blooming in his stomach. He gave him this. He looks like he’s entered a whole new world, the childlike glee and fascination naked on his face; and even better, he looks at Crowley like he’s handed him all its wonders on a platter.

They don’t get to do things like this often; they make the rounds of the British Museum, the Tate, the parks and public gardens, they’ve probably been to every free museum in the city at least three times over, and they enjoy it; but they don’t often visit places like this, places that cost £40 for just one of them to get in. Christ, the last time was probably for their tenth anniversary, Les Mis on the West End, and they’d saved for a year for seats in the dress circle and a bottle of wine.

(It looks like this:

Crowley waits tables at a posh restaurant in Mayfair, Monday-Friday. It’s miserable, but the tips are better than he’s ever had anywhere else, and it’s there that he met the Dowlings. Their son is a menace; nothing calms him, nothing satisfies or entertains. He threw pasta at the German ambassador’s son and made him scream so loud every wine glass in the place vibrated, and Crowley had seen the helpless look on his mother’s face, the storm brewing in his father’s, and swooped in without another thought, putting on an exaggerated posh accent like some butler from one of Aziraphale’s boring, oddly captivating shows and waited on him the rest of the night as if he were a little despot, pointing out that pelting ones subjects with bread was quite unbecoming of a little prince. He laughed and adopted a dignified air, delighting in ordering Crowley about and racking up his parent’s bill, but he didn’t throw a plate at anyone, so it was an improvement.

At the end of the evening, Mrs. Dowling hadn’t so much asked as told him she’d be hiring him; their nanny had demanded Saturdays off as a break from the little beast, and they needed someone to babysit, because Mrs. Dowling couldn’t possibly be expected to watch him herself. The pay was good, and with living expenses in London what they were and Aziraphale getting his hours cut, he wouldn’t dream of saying no.

There were other perks, too, like Mrs. Dowling throwing him tickets to the London Aquarium some MP had sent them for Warlock’s birthday; she’d taken him once, and he’d tried to steal a little shark from the touch tank. Never again, she said, take your girlfriend. She glanced at his ring. Wife?)

“Oh, Crowley, dear, look,” Aziraphale cries, pulling him towards one of the tanks. He presses the hand that isn’t on Crowley’s arm against the glass, his eyes wide and bright as a full moon. “A jellyfish! Don’t they just look so marvelous? It’s like they’re dancing.” Crowley smiles and presses closer to his side. "They're my favorite fish, I think. They just look so ethereal."

"Jellyfish aren't fish, angel," Crowley says, bemused. "They're...I dunno, jello."

"Don't be ridiculous, Crowley, it's in the name," he tells him, very patiently. "They wouldn't be in an aquarium if they weren't fish."

"Dolphins aren't fish and they're in the aquarium," Crowley points out, quite sensibly. Aziraphale still hasn't looked away from the jellyfish, and Crowley still hasn't looked away from Aziraphale. He likes the fish, he does, but there's something a thousand times more fascinating about watching Aziraphale watching them.

"Of course dolphins are fish," Aziraphale says. His brow furrows. "They live in the ocean, dear, I've seen Planet Earth."

(It looks like this:

Crowley practically runs home from the bus stop, barely getting his wild grin under control before he barges into their flat. Aziraphale is cooking, doing whatever it is he does that makes store brand pasta and sauce from Tesco's taste less like chalk. He hides the tickets behind his back--he held them in his hands the whole way home, leg bouncing, feeling as giddy as he had on the way to their first date--adopting an innocent expression, but Aziraphale isn't fooled; he gives him a suspicious look the moment he sees him and says, "What are you up to, you old serpent?"

"Oh, nothing," he says, very convincingly--he did theater in college, he's an excellent actor, thanks--and strolls over to give him a kiss in greeting, slides up behind him and puts his chin on his shoulder to peer down into the sauce. "Smells good."

"Thank you, dear," Aziraphale says, preening.

"What are you doing tomorrow after church?" he asks, and Aziraphale cuts him a curious look out of the corner of his eye.

"Thought we'd feed the pigeons," he says. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Oh, thought I'd take this handsome man I picked up somewhere to the London Aquarium," he says, as casually as he can with the excitement buzzing in his veins. "Make a date of it."

Aziraphale laughs. "Is that so? If you're busy, I suppose I'll make a trip to Paris, pick up some crepes."

"That'd be for the best," Crowley agrees, and he puts his arms around him, casually fanning the tickets in front of him. "You wouldn't believe how hot this guy is, and I'm hoping I'll get lucky. I'll put a sock on the door in case you're back early."

Aziraphale gasps, putting the sauce spoon carefully on the trivet so he can grab the tickets, squinting at them as if he's afraid they're forged. "Crowley! Oh, my dear, you didn't!"

"He's a classy one," Crowley says, grinning. "Takes something special to impress."

"But how can we afford these? We're behind on the electric bill, dear, and my hours--"

"Relax, angel, Mrs. Dowling gave them to me," Crowley says, running a reassuring hand down his arm. "Totally free. Well, at the cost of my sanity, maybe, but that's not a bad deal in this economy."

"Crowley," Aziraphale breathes, and he turns in Crowley's arms to face him. He's looking at Crowley like he's hung the moon, and he leans in to kiss him like he could live off the taste of his lips alone.)

They enter a room that's mostly empty; watch a mother play peekaboo with her daughter, the father holding the girl on one side of a tank, the mother ducking behind fish and corral on the other, making the girl squeal with delight.

Crowley has glitter in his hair--from the night before, but he also just likes the way it looks, so he put more in this morning, gold bright in his red hair--and some of it has stuck to Aziraphale's cheek, and the otherworldly light of the water catches it just right, makes it shine like stars. It is not uncommon for Crowley to cover Aziraphale in glitter; so much is ingrained in the fibers of the tweed jacket he wears it looks gilded in the right light.

"He doth teach the torches to burn bright," Crowley says softly, touching the glitter on his cheek, and Aziraphale smiles at him, cheeks coloring. He gets an idea, and waits until the family has moved on to take Aziraphale's hand in his. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand / This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: / My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand / To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

Aziraphale beams at him. "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much," he says. "Which mannerly devotion shows in this, / For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, / And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." He presses their hands flat together, and leans in to kiss him, but Crowley steps back. Aziraphale's brow furrows, his lips pulling into a pout, and he clasps their hands together again to keep him from moving away. Crowley goes anyway, darting to the other side of the tank to peer at him through the impossible water, and God, he looks so good in blue. Aziraphale's breath hitches, his lips parting.

(It looks like this:

They met in an Intro to Philosophy class in 1996, nearly coming to blows even on the first day, the simple question of 'What is Philosophy?' Crowley couldn't help but antagonize him, loved how he looked when he was frustrated and indignant, how he thumbed the cross around his neck when Crowley had gotten into his head. He threw an argument about Kant, who he frankly considered to be full of shit, so Aziraphale would be in a good mood after class.

He wasn't, though, he was just suspicious, demanding to know why he'd conceded when he'd spent all semester insisting there is no Categorical Imperative, no supreme moral code, that the only consideration that should be taken in a course of action is the consequences it will have, and he was as frustrated as he'd ever been in the heat of an argument, and he looked beautiful.

"I was distracted," Crowley said. "Thinking about this poster I saw, for that new Romeo and Juliet movie. You like Shakespeare, don't you?" He did. He knew he did. He'd noticed him, furiously annotating in the margins of an old copy of Hamlet that was more notes than text; he had this wretchedly charming little Stratford-upon-Avon tourist pin he wore all the time.

"I...am?" Aziraphale said, blinking at him. He had the most wonderful eyes. Crowley had noticed the very first day, when they'd gone wide at some horribly blasphemous comment Crowley threw out to shock and impress.

"Do you have plans tonight?" Crowley couldn't help bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with excitement; he'd seen Aziraphale in the audience of their production of Twelfth Night, alone but looking like he was in Heaven, hanging on every word, and then he'd seen that poster, and he'd known, that was the ticket. Well, the tickets would be the ticket. Anyway.

"Not...really?" Aziraphale said, brow furrowing.

"Great, so you wanna go with me?"

"Go where?"

"To see the new Romeo and Juliet," Crowley said, and he felt he'd been quite smooth about it all, even if his palms were sweating.

"With you?" Aziraphale looked completely baffled.

"Yes, with me," he said. Please, please, please, Crowley didn't pray, because he hadn't prayed since he was thirteen and realized that if they expected young men to be straight, it was kind of ridiculous of the church to make Jacob Wrestling the Angel look like that, and the whole foundation of the church in his mind just kind of tumbled from there; but he did put it out into the universe, just in case someone was listening. Please, please, please, I never ask for anything. Not of the universe, anyway.

"I...you want me to go with you?" Aziraphale looked like he was doing a particularly difficult math problem and none of the numbers were adding up right. It would be charming, and might make his chest feel a little tighter, that he was this unused to being asked out on dates, but it was more just frustrating. He was losing his nerve.

"Just meet me at the theater with the discount tickets for students at seven, alright?" Crowley said impatiently, and Aziraphale, still confused but looking relieved at having specific instructions, nodded. The moment he'd left the building, he'd pumped his fist, grinning like a madman, unaware that Aziraphale could still see him through a window in the corridor.)

"Have not saints lips?" Crowley asks from the other side of the tank, giving him a coy look. "And holy palmers too?"

"Ay, pilgrim, lips they must use in prayer," Aziraphale says, with a delighted smile.

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do," Crowley says, and darts around the tank. Aziraphale dodges him, going to the other side to throw him a mischievous look. "They pray," Crowley whines, "grant thou, lest faith turn to despair!"

"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake," Aziraphale says; and the breathless joy as he'd watched the jellyfish was nothing compared to what's on his face now, and Crowley is dizzy with it.

"Then move not," Crowley begs, crossing to the other side of the tank slowly, "while my prayer's affect I take." Aziraphale stands still, watching him, and tilts his chin just a little, lips parting.

(It looks like this:

Leonardo Dicaprio sees Claire Danes through the aquarium for the first time, and Crowley leans in, his breath ghosting against the shell of Aziraphale's ear. "That's how I felt when I first saw you," he says.

"You do know how the play ends, don't you?" Aziraphale says, voice shaking just a little. He's trying to tease, but there's a note of sincerity too.

"They were kids," Crowley says. "I know better than to trust a friar. Besides, it was beautiful, wasn't it? How they loved each other despite everything."

Aziraphale looks at him; he really looks, his eyes bright in the dark theater, and then he turns away. Crowley's heart sinks, but before he can start kicking himself, Aziraphale takes his hand, his cheeks pink, and Crowley glows.)

Crowley kisses him as tenderly as he has for twenty years. Their first wasn't after their first date, or their second, or their third; but it had been worth the wait, their shaking breath and trembling hands, the certainty of their lips, and Crowley knew then, the moment their lips met, with the same conviction he felt now after two decades, that he would spend the rest of a long and glorious life with Aziraphale.

"Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged," he whispers, and Aziraphale's hands grip the lapels of his leather jacket.

"Then have my lips the sin that they have took?" Aziraphale says, and Crowley grins wolfishly.

"Sin from thy lips? O, trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again," he demands, and Aziraphale pulls him into another kiss, smiling against his lips, letting Crowley press him back against the cool glass of the tank until they hear footsteps echoing and the chatter of voices. Crowley breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against Aziraphale's, catching his breath, though the waver of light across his face isn't helping, nor is the way the light from behind makes his curls look like a halo. His angel, indeed.

"You kiss by th' book," Aziraphale whispers.

"Teenagers," grumbles the voice of a man, when he sees the outline of two figures embraced on the other side of a tank, and Crowley barks out a laugh, taking a step back. He takes Aziraphale's hand, and leads him blushing into the next room, feeling smug when he hears the same voice exclaim that they're older than he is, they ought to know better.

"Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon," Crowley says, pulling him closer to link their arms again. "Who is already sick and pale with grief, / that thou art far more fair than he."

"Don't be rude, darling," Aziraphale laughs, but he's beaming, gentle as the soft lightening of the horizon, bright and radiant as the sun beneath it, and Crowley--oh, Crowley loves him.

(inspired by 1996 romeo and juliet; conversation with @saaliyah and @genderqueercrowley about r+j and Them; conversation with @transsouthernpansy about Aquariums; when john mulaney said That about his wife annamarie tendler; please read @genderqueercrowley‘s fic i keep a window for you (it’s always open) that makes much better use of shakespeare; part of human au)

#henry speaks #good omens #human au #ineffable husbands #sorry this is so long yall i got carried away lmao #henry writes

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maatryoshkaa · 6 years ago

Text

Bad Boy | Seo Changbin

Summary: Trouble comes in the form of neck tattoos, lip rings, and Seo Changbin, the school bad boy who, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to stay away from.

Genre: fluff, high school!au, bad boy!changbin, perfect student!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: seo changbin x reader

Features: done with changbin!bang chan, voyeurist!minho, 3rd wheel!jisung, baby!jeongin, woojin, felix, hyunjin

Warnings: mild swearing

Requested: 1: “I’ll keep you warm, hold me closer”; 4: “I was wondering how long you two were going to make out before you realized you weren’t alone”; 18: “Stay the night”.

Okay writing this gave me a f a t crisis because writing Binnie as a bad boy made me laugh -- so rather than your typical hardass, stone-cold mafia bad boy, Binnie in this is more of a delinquent, cocky sort of kid, you know? If y’all want that stone-cold bad boy tho, feel free to request and I’ll give it another shot ahaha sorry about that! <3 enjoyy

Friday, 2:49 PM

“Seo Changbin, if I see you sleeping in my class one more time--”

The boy sat up and stretched, a lazy, crooked smile spreading across his lips. His dark eyes were barely open, but the sleep circles that ringed them made his stare even more intense.

“Sorry, Ma’am, your voice is just...so soothing.”

You watched as the biology teacher glowered and continued her lesson, your gaze straying to the male who had spoken with so little care. Everyone knew about Seo Changbin, the school bad boy, and his notorious friends. Everyone either wanted to fight them, sleep with them, or just plain stayed away from them.

You were the third. You were just in high school to get your degree, stuff some knowledge in your brain if you were lucky, and stay out of trouble’s lane. But for you, trouble came in the form of neck tattoos and lip rings cuffed around a sly smile for Seo Changbin, and you took the feeling he gave you every time you saw him as a sign to have as little to do with him as possible.

Perhaps the universe had other plans in mind, however, when you found yourself in the middle of a biology test -- science never really was Changbin’s forte, was it? -- and felt a cool hand behind you graze your arm, making you turn around.

“What’s the answer to #4?” He asked, barely making an effort to whisper.

“I-I can’t tell you...this is a test--?”

Changbin cocked his head to the side, tongue running over his lip ring in mock thought. “Hm. Pretty please?”

You opened your mouth incredulously to reply. “I--”

“y/n l/n, Seo Changbin, I do not tolerate cheating on tests. Detention for the both of you, after school!”

And that was how it began.

5:29 PM, later

Your patience was wearing thin as you scribbled out your homework. Changbin had been making paper airplanes of various sizes out of his textbook pages and throwing them onto your desk from across the room, each one with small notes like “sorry :p”, “still mad?”, and “but seriously, what was the answer the #4?”.

You were this close to flipping a desk over his dark, acorn-shaped head when the clock finally struck 5:30 PM and detention was over. Practically leaping to your feet and packing up, you began searching for the keys to your car, beginning to panic when they were nowhere to be found. Changbin slung his own black duffel bag over his shoulders as he watched you. You felt him come up beside you.

“C’mon, I’ll give you a ride.”

You glared at him. “What makes you think I’m going to let you?”

“Just think of it as a heartfelt apology.” The corner of Changbin’s lips twitched. “Loosen up a little, sweetheart.”

The rest of his friends were already in the empty school parking lot, sitting on the roof of a navy car. You recognized some of them--the oldest one was Chan, the unspoken leader of the group; the tall one sitting on the hood was Hyunjin. The blond one with freckles was the transfer student, Felix, who the freshmen were all over, and then there was Minho, infamous for having slept with one half of the school, and leaving the other half pining.

Changbin gave a short wave in greeting before leading you to his motorcycle. You gulped, feeling your palms begin to sweat at the thought of riding it, your stomach somersaulting. As if noticing, the dark-haired boy helped you on, hands firm and surprisingly soothing before taking his own place in front of you. The engine hummed to life, the sudden jerking motion making you yelp--and soon, you didn’t know if the butterflies in your stomach were from the motorcycle, or being pressed so close to Seo Changbin.

The brisk spring wind sent shivers down your spine as he swerved around a corner and picked up the speed, neighborhood lights and darkening sky becoming a blur. You shivered and shrank back into your jacket. Noticing, Changbin looked over his shoulder at you.

“I’ll keep you warm. Hold me closer.”

You could feel your face heat up at his words. Tentatively, you tightened your grip around his waist before you felt him impatiently slip your hands beneath his leather jacket. Your palms were now pressed against his warm stomach, fingers gripping his thin t-shirt for dear life. Something about the smoother motion of the motorcycle as it sped up on the freeway, and the sudden warmth washing over you lulled you into a light state of sleep, unable to stop your drooping head from resting on his shoulder.

Changbin turned slightly at the feeling, heart clenching at your soft, sleeping face before forcing himself to turn back around and speed, eyes narrowed and ears red, to your house.

6:02 PM

Changbin shook you awake before helping you off his Harley Davidson with a strange gentleness that contrasted his earlier, cockier attitude. Something in the air had changed with the twilight sky, and you thanked him, tripping over your words. You ran inside, quickly shutting the door before peeking out from the curtains at your driveway.

The dark-haired boy stood in the driveway a little longer, staring after the door you had slammed with an unfathomable expression before hopping back on his motorcycle and driving away.

But boy, oh boy are the two of you whipped.

It was like the feeling you’d always had about Seo Changbin had been amplified tenfold. But if it was your gut trying to warn you away from him, why were your hands so sweaty, your face so red and hot, your heartbeat pounding in your ears?

Changbin had always known he felt different about you -- the straight-A, model student with an intriguing personality. Something about you made him want to get to know you better, but he always stopped himself, knowing what kind of reputation hung over him. He knew you were too good for him -- after all, girls like you deserved to be loved, held, respected -- and not by some delinquent. So why was it that even after all the girls Woojin tried introducing him to, all the half-hearted hookups Minho had suggested, his eyes still lingered only on you? It was as if, rather than washing away his feelings for you, each one-night-stand had just made him more and more sure that he only wanted you.

Monday, 9:27 AM

“Let’s take up your homework, shall we? I want all of you to form groups and share your Romeo and Juliet analyses with each other. You will then present the main points of your combined ideas to the class; now go on.”

The language arts teacher fixed her eyes on the two dark figures at the back of the class, who’d made no effort to move at her instructions. “Seo Changbin, Han Jisung. Partner up with y/n.”

You fumbled through the contents of your bag for your report as the two boys took the seats beside you, Changbin watching you with muted amusement.

“Lost something again?”

“Shut up, Seo Changbin, I spent hours on that report--”

You could see Jisung smirk in his peripheral vision, your ears beginning to burn.

“Something been on your mind lately? You seem distracted by something.” He flicked his gaze over at Changbin, who had begun to help you look. “Or someone--”

“I said, shut up--”

The teacher clapped her hands. “Time’s up. y/n’s group, why don’t you go first?”

“Well, that’s my cue to go to the bathroom,” Jisung deadpanned before disappearing out the door, leaving you staring at Changbin in increasing dread. This was the boy who wasn’t awake for half his classes, let alone did his homework. How on earth were you going to--

“Our analysis topic focuses on Romeo’s character arc in the first two Acts,” Changbin answered, standing up. “Specifically, his sentiments when he falls in love with Juliet. He thinks he’s been in love before, but this conception shatters the night he meets her.

“The descriptions of his feelings change from infatuation to true love the moment he sees Juliet at the masquerade,” Changbin continued as you looked up at him in disbelief. “Romeo deems himself unfit to be in the presence of a beauty as great as Juliet’s. Compared to her, he is a pilgrim; a mundane, wretched man,” his gaze caught yours, intense as ever, “Whereas she...may well be a saint, too good for this world, the very light that teaches the torches how brightly to burn. Hence, we conclude that those...those are Romeo’s current emotions.”

He held your stunned gaze as the teacher thanked him, before raising a slit eyebrow at you. You finally remembered--the one subject “bad boy” Seo Changbin excelled at -- writing, and language arts.

You shook your head and looked down, trying to stomach the familiar sinking feeling in your gut. Oh, man, now you were sure. So you’ve had the longest crush on the school’s bad boy, Seo Changbin.

Weeks later, Sunday 3:37 PM

Maybe it was the teachers trying to save the delinquent’s falling grades and apathetic attitude, or maybe even the universe was getting tired of you two pining for each other, but you found yourself partnered in more and more projects with him. What had started out as quiet tutoring sessions in the library quickly snowballed into late-night phone calls from Changbin sheepishly asking you to help him cram for a test. And nobody could quite say when exactly the excuse of talking to each other just to study dissolved, and random, casual texts between you two became what you looked forward to each evening. Still, something deep down nagged at you to stay away, to not expect much -- after all, you two were friends at most; Changbin’s free pass to better grades at the very least.

But you found yourself caring more and more about the bad boy who had a way with words, this so-called bad boy who fell asleep by last period but seemed to be genuinely trying when you explained how cell division worked to him for the umpteenth time.

And the rest of the school would have been blind not to notice how Seo Changbin changed in front of you, how his usual dark, brooding expression would soften, cheeks filling with a light dust of colour whenever he saw you. How he’d stand a little straighter, clear his throat, a genuine smile replacing his usual crooked smirk.

Maybe that was why when you saw him trudging down the sidewalk today, on your way to the grocery store, you stopped dead in your tracks.

Changbin had his head down and hands shoved in his pockets, eyes dark as a tempest. When you squinted, you saw harsh scrapes on his jaw, dried blood on a split bottom lip.

“Changbin, what the hell happened to you?”

He froze, hooded eyes widening like a deer in headlights’ as you ran to him, hands gingerly stroking the wounds. He hadn’t intended for you to see him like this. He never wanted you to see him like this. Beginning to panic, you frantically dug into your bag, looking for bandages, anything, before you felt his hand grasp your wrist. His knuckles were worse, rimmed with red and purple bruises.

“I’m fine. What are you gonna do, put a Band-Aid on my lip?” He chuckled.

“I--you--who did this to you?” You stammered, still in shock. You knew him and his friend group had a reputation for getting in fights, but you hadn’t ever seen Changbin like this--you’d assumed it was just another rumour. Swallowing hard, you fixed him with a wary look. “What happened?”

At this, Changbin looked away. He knew if he kept it from you, you would assume the worst -- but if he told you what had really happened, would that be any better?

As if on cue, a navy car pulled up beside you, its window rolling down to reveal Chan behind the wheel, and Woojin in the front seat.

“Oy, Changbin!” Chan narrowed his eyes at the younger boy’s injuries. “The hell, again? Hop in, we’re sending everyone home. And bring y/n, too -- maybe she’ll keep you out of trouble for once.”

Most of their friends were already in the car, leaving you between Felix and a younger, red-haired boy named Jeongin, who sipped a carton of banana milk and looked you up and down unabashedly before Felix kicked him.

Needless to say, the atmosphere was tense.

Chan pulled up to each boy’s house one by one, before reaching his own. “You can drive yourself back fine, Bin? See you later, aight?”

He flashed you a look that said something like, take care of him. Sorry. before leaving the two of you in the front seat, Changbin behind the wheel. Sighing, you turned to him, his eyes a thousand shades of guilt and apologetic under your gaze. “Tell me what happened.”

Something about how soft and low your voice was made the lump in his throat give way. “I...someone...I got mad at someone.”

You took a deep breath, looking down at his bruised knuckles before running your fingers over the swelling, feeling Changbin shiver at your touch.

“These douchebags were talking shit about you,” he continued, voice dropping to a mumble. “So I kind of...got mad, okay?”

Watching his pained face, you could only imagine what they could have said -- you were no stranger to your classmates’ offhand comments, which had multiplied ever since you began getting closer to Seo Changbin. From teacher’s pet, to attention whore who’s trying to sleep with the school bad boy and the rest of his popular friends -- you’d practically heard it all.

“You don’t have to get mad at that.”

“How could I not, when I care so much about you?”

You looked up, taken aback. For a moment, he looked almost angry, his expression was so intense. Changbin’s face was filled with every emotion at once, black eyes glowing under the rays of the golden hour.

His fingers tightened their grip around yours, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips as if waiting for permission. “You can tell me to stop,” he whispered, before finally closing the distance between the two of you to press his bruised lips to yours.

It was like the years of confusion, mixed feelings and misinterpreted signs finally cleared away, leaving you breathless and wanting more, wondering how in the world you had ignored your feelings for Seo Changbin for this long. You suddenly found yourself wondering how anyone could think that this boy was nothing better than a burn-out delinquent who only cared about himself -- this boy, who felt and loved so strongly he wouldn’t hesitate to fight those who looked down on the people he cared about.

You pulled away only when you remembered the cut on his lip. “Doesn’t it hurt?” You asked, voice soft and catching in your throat at the look he gave you, forehead pressed against yours, like you were the only thing he wanted in the world.

“No,” he murmured, “you always seem to make all the pain disappear.” And he leaned in to connect your lips again, the kiss catching fire as he buried his fingers in your hair, the cool rings on his fingers brushing the shell of your ear and sending shivers down your spine. Changbin found himself relishing every soft sound you made as his tongue explored your mouth, your fingers running over the dark tattoos that curled around his collarbones -- when you heard the rustle of paper unwrapping behind you, and jumped.

Lee Minho was sprawled lazily in the backseat, a half-unwrapped Subway sandwich in his hands. “I was wondering how long you two were going to make out like that before you realized you weren’t alone.”

Seeing your fire-red, speechless expressions, he continued, “What? Carry on, it looked like it was getting good. If I’m not mistaken, it was around the part when Changbin was about to cu--alright, alright, I’m going, I’m going, stop hitting me Bin--”

Nevertheless, Minho managed to flash you a catlike wink and finger guns before promptly hopping out and running towards Chan’s house like he was being chased by an axe murderer.

Sighing and sitting back down, mood more than slightly ruined, Changbin looked at you before the two of you began laughing uncontrollably.

8:02 PM

You ended up making Changbin drive to his house so you could properly treat his wounds. You two sat in the living room, a tall panel of windows letting in the sun’s waning golden light. First-aid kit busted open --

“Seo Changbin, I’m not even going to question why you have a First-Aid Kit on hand--”

“Live fast, die hard, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, not while I’m around, sweetheart.”

-- you pressed an ice pack to his bruised jaw, disinfecting the scrapes on his knuckles and chin before carefully bandaging them. Changbin kept shooting little lovestruck smirks at you, only smiling more wickedly after you told him to shut up and hold still or so help me, Seo Changbin.

“How in the world am I going to get home?” You wondered aloud after putting the First Aid kit away, staring at Changbin’s bruised knuckles. “I so don’t trust you to work your motorcycle in that condition.”

He smiled, pulling you down on the couch next to him. He was quiet for several moments, studying your expectant expression, before replying bluntly,

“Stay the night.”

You blinked, sure you’d heard wrong, and yet your heartbeat had jumped to your throat. “What?”

“You live nearly an hour’s walk away. Just stay here, tonight. With me.”

You could feel your face heating up, and Changbin smirked. “What are you thinking of? I’m exhausted, you’re exhausted. Let’s watch a movie, order take out, and fall asleep on the couch or something. You know, like a proper date.”

You felt your face flush again at the word date -- and that was exactly what you did, finding eventual peace in each other’s arms as the sunset winked at you from behind the darkening horizon.

Sunday, 9:02 AM

You woke up with your face pressed against Changbin’s chest, the thick blanket he’d fetched last night wrapped snugly around the two of you. The smell of last night’s Chinese food, still mildly pleasant, lingered in the air as you sat up slowly. You rubbed the lines his thin t-shirt had pressed against your cheek as you peered down at Changbin’s sleeping face. Even asleep, the sight of him stirred something in your chest and brought a smile to your lips. The thin morning sunlight filtering in and gracing his features made him seem little less than an angel, black hair falling over his long lashes, lips soft under the glinting cuff of his lip ring.

“What are you thinking?” Changbin’s voice roused you from your thoughts as he opened one eye and grinned sleepily at you.

“About how you’re not the bad boy they call you at all,” you replied, stroking the fading bruises on his chin. “You’re kind of even softer than that Romeo guy, you know.”

Changbin looked offended. “At least I didn’t spout a sonnet professing my undying love for you. But the sentiment was there, you know.”

“No,” you mused, “you kind of skipped that step and went straight for the kiss scene.”

“Well, if Minho had heard the confession I had in store for you, I wouldn’t have heard the end of it for years.”

You groaned at the memory. “Well, what did you have saved for me?”

“Oh, you know. That you’re perfect, beautiful, and make my heart stop, and that I know I don’t deserve you. But that I’m selfish enough to want you, anyways.”

Changbin pulled you and the blanket back down on top of him, making you cry out in surprise. Pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead, you felt him smile against your skin as you two fell back asleep -- just a misunderstood bad boy and the feisty model student, soaking up each other’s warmth on a Sunday morning.

2K notes · View notes

zodiyack · 5 years ago

Text

Billy Hargrove VS The World

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader Scott Pilgrim Vs The World AU (See note!)

Warnings: 7 exes that would love to kill Billy, violence, swearing, soft!Billy, I guess two sexual references since it’s Billy we’re talking about, smut mention but no smut, making out, SPOLIERS!, and cheesy pirate Patel

Words: 4947

Note: This is a Scott Pilgrim Vs The World AU because I love that movie and it would be interesting to write an AU involving that. Also this is a multiple part story due to all 7 exes and the battles. One ex per post! (maybe) I’m sorry for the unoriginal title lmao

By the way, yes. There is dialogue from the movie. That is in and going to be in this miniseries. As I said, I love this movie and I think most of the dialogue was funny, plus it is semi important to the story. And the exes are the same people from the movie. Sorry if you don’t like that.

o/o/y/f/c = One of Your Favorite Color(s)

Bold = Words From The Movie (that appear on the screen, if you’ve watched it, then you know what I’m talking about)

Italics with apostrophes = Billy’s thoughts (and Matthew’s thoughts but only once)

Italic = Used for a few different things, mainly enthusiasm/emphasis on words

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

link to the soundtrack on youtube ‘cause why not (a few will be in here I guess)

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5 and 6. Part 7.

“Look.”

Tommy pointed to the new girl. Finally, some fresh meat for Billy. Or Tommy, whichever one thought of her first. Billy finally grew bored of the girls at school, he waited for one that was newer. Fresher. Cuter.

There she was. Her unnatural o/o/y/f/c hair sat on her shoulders. Roller-blades on her feet, her torso clothed in a shirt covered with a hoodie and another jacket. Her bag hung by her side, headphone strings leaving it and connecting to the headphones on her head. She didn’t look like most girls. Billy had seen most of them, and none had looked as breathtaking nor interesting as her. Before either teens could walk over to her, a boy around their age walked in front of them. She was gone when he moved.

“Weird...”

“I hear she’ll be at Tina’s party tonight.” Carol noticed the boy’s fascination with the new kid, sharing it. “We should go, it’ll give you the chance to learn more about her, Billy.”

“We’ll see.” He brushed off his thoughts about the odd girl, her choice of hair color and clothing, and her headphones that caused her mental absence from the world. Billy turned and walked away, continuing with the rest of his day.

. . .

Billy was stopped by Tina. She asked him how the party was going and if he needed anything.

“Hey Tina, you know everyone, right?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.” She let out a small laugh. Billy didn’t know whether it was fake or genuine.

“Do you know this one girl with hair...” He grabbed a pen the same color as the new girl’s hair color, quickly drawing a horrible doodle of the girl’s hair. “Like this?”

“Yes, that’s Y/n L/n.” Tina took a sip of her drink, “Someone said she was gonna be here tonight actually.”

Billy’s hand that held the drawing went down quickly, his head snapping to the side and his eyes searching for Y/n. “What?”

“Oh Billy, you got the hots for her or something? I’ve gotta tell you though, I hear she’s a little hardcore-” Tina had looked down mid-sentence and when she looked back up Billy was gone. She turned her head with confusion.

Meanwhile, Billy was now walking through the crowd in search of his unique looking crush. His eyes and head shifted when he couldn’t see her, switching from left and right with each step he took. He didn’t blink, afraid that he’d miss her if he did. After many turns of his head and movements of his eyes, he finally spotted her. His hand clenched the red solo cup, squeezing it until it was crumpled and disfigured.

He slid along the wall, stopping when his body was right next to hers. He faced her, his body turned slightly so that she knew she had his full attention.

“Hey, what’s up?”

She turned her head to him for a second, facing forwards again and replying with, “Nothing.” before taking a sip from her cup.

“Hey you know swimming?”

“I know of it.” She took another sip, still not facing him.

He rambled on about the breast stroke and how he could teach her. Billy took notice of her silence, looking up to see that she was facing him with no emotion visible.

“That’s amazing.” Her reply was just as her face was; emotionless and dull.

“Uhm...” He looked down. No girl could make Billy nervous. By now, he’d have them a blushing mess, begging for him to do whatever he’d like. So now that the new girl, on the first day she’d ever met him, just somehow managed to make him regret every word he said, he thought he’d gone soft. “Am I dreaming?” Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion and another emotion Billy couldn’t quite think of. However, it was enough to make him regret speaking once more. “I’ll leave you alone forever now...”

“Thanks.”

And Then

He Stalked Her

Until She

Left

The Party

“Dude!”

He grabbed Tommy’s shoulder, spinning him around.

“What?”

“She’s totally real!”

“Who?”

“Y/n L/n.” His gaze went elsewhere. Billy then speeded off to find Tina. “Dude!” She made a face at Billy’s sudden approach, but let him speak. “What do you know about Y/n L/n?”

“All I know is that she’s (ethnicity).”

His sudden dramatic and demanding of knowledge persona swapped to dreamy, just as it had when he said her name to Tommy. “(ethnicity)...”

“Why don’t you go talk to Sandra and Monique, they know more about her.” Tina’s head nodded to two blond women laughing in a doorway. Billy rushed to them.

“Lady-dudes. What do you know about Y/n L/n?”

Sandra spoke up first, “I heard she has a boyfriend.” Monique confirmed her knowledge, “Mhm, yes. Left him back in New York.”

Billy felt a bit annoyed, but still wanted to know more. “Yeah yeah yeah...What else?”

He asked other people, earning all kinds of different responses.

“I heard she kicks all kinds of ass.”

“She’s on...another level!”

“She has men dying at her feet!”

“She’s got some battle scars dude.”

“What about Y/n L/n?!” Robin asked, semi full of annoyance for her old friend.

“You know her? Tell me now.”

“She just moved here, got a job at the mall, comes into my work.”

“Does she really?” His tone was dreamy again.

A girl put her arm around Robin, “didn’t you say she just broke up with someone?”

“Did she really?”

“They had uh...huge fight or whatever?”

“Did they really?”

Robin slapped the other girl’s arm off of her. “Yes! But I didn’t want Billy to know that, Kate!”

“Yeah...I don’t know what it is about that girl-”

“Billy, I forbid you from hitting on Y/n! Even if you haven’t had a real girlfriend in over a year or whatever.”

Billy’s daydreaming halted to a stop. He let out a scoff and turned away.

“Hey, woah woah woah, my man Billy’s got all kinds of girls...he’s totally getting with an older girl sometime, right?” Tommy couldn’t keep his big mouth shut, as usual.

“Getting with an older girl or multiple girls is not having a real girlfriend.”

“She’s got a point.” Kate wrapped her arm around Robin again.

“I thought you guys weren’t friends anymore?”

Robin slapped away Kate again. “I don’t want you scaring off one of my old friends now that she’s in town, Billy. We all know you’re a lady-killer-wannabe-jerky-jerk.”

“That’s completely untrue.”

“That time with Lisa?”

“That was a misunderstanding.”

“That time with Holly?”

“That wasn’t what it looked like.”

“That time you dumped Faith for-”

“Okay me and Faith are all good now, right?” He turned to where the girl Robin had mentioned stood. Her cup was in her hands and her face was blank with wide eyes. She looked traumatized. Billy turned back to Robin.

“Whatever! Y/n’s just out of your league, let’s just leave it at that. Besides, I’m not even sure she had a big break up. She keeps mentioning some guy named Gideon.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what it is about that girl-”

“FORGET IT BILLY!”

. . .

“What’s this?”

“I don’t know, it’s a letter for you dumbass. Read it.”

Billy grunted and took the letter from his father, tearing it open and allowing his eyes to scan the page slowly. He mumbled the words as he read them. It was only Max and him in the room, so it couldn’t do much harm. “Dear Mr. Hargrove, it has come to my attention that we will be fighting soon. My name is Matthew Patel and blah blah blah blah...fair warning, mono e mono, 7 evil blah blah... This is... This is... This is-”

Max grew annoyed with her older brother. “What?!?”

“This is borrrinnnggg. Get rid of thisss.” He threw the letter into the recycling and walked up the stairs to his room. “Hey Max?” For once, he didn’t care about being an ass to the redheaded girl. He had a plan, and he needed her as an excuse to leave the house.

“What is it?”

“Wanna go to the mall?”

“For real?” Of course, he couldn’t tell her. “Let me get my wallet and I’ll meet you in the car!”

. . .

“Hello. Robin tells me you ordered this ice cream but left before she could give it to you, so here.” The ice cream that she handed him was indeed abandoned when he heard Steve say that Y/n was in the mall and would be hanging around Scoops soon. “You gonna take it? Ooor-”

“Hi, I was thinking about asking you out but then I realized how stupid that would be...so do you wanna go out sometime?”

“Um no, that’s okay. You can just pay for this, alright?”

“You don’t remember me, do you? We met at the party the other day.”

“Were you the swim guy?”

“Nooooooooo, not even. That was some total ass...I was the...other guy.”

“You know you need to take this and pay for it?”

“But if I do, you’ll leave.”

“Yeah. It’s how it works.”

“Okay well maybe, do you wanna hang out sometime? Get to know each other? You’re the new kid on the block...right, I’ve lived here...for a while so there are reasons...for you to hang out with me.”

A short pause was shared between the two. Y/n’s eyes glanced up to Billy’s with an eyebrow raised. He didn’t know why he felt desperate, but this girl was making him feel different.

“You want me to hang out with you?”

“Um...” He looked down shyly, but quickly looked back up to her face. “Yeah, if that’s cool...” His tough demeanor seemed to flee whenever she was present.

“If I say yes, will you take and pay for your damn ice cream?”

He snatched the ice cream from her and tossed it over his shoulder and into the garbage can behind him effortlessly, taking out the money needed and handing it to her. “So yeah, eight o’clock?”

So Yeah ( . . . )

“Why’re you just standing there?”

“Dude, I’m totally waiting on you.” Y/n turned to Billy, her hands tucked into the pockets of her hoodie. Billy didn’t know whether she looked offended or confused.

“Oh...I’m sorry, I just assumed you were too cool to be here on time...” In other words, he assumed she was like him. If you were at Tina’s party, then you were bound to be somewhat of a “cool kid” or a rebel or anything remotely relating to popularity. Then again, Tina loved handing out invites.

“Well. You assumed wrong.”

They walked in the chilly weather. Small talk slowly formed and they tried their best to get to know each other just as Billy had suggested. His nervousness didn’t leave him around her, and he was glad that no one else from school was there to see him make a fool of himself. ‘You’re just gonna get lucky and then leave her like the rest of them.’ No matter how many times he told himself that, he was too interested in Y/n. His felt something he wasn’t sure he had ever actually felt.

“So, how’d you end up in Hawkins?” Crap. He wasn’t even sure he could get to like him. Let alone be his snack of the week.

“Just needed to escape I guess...”

“Oh yeah.” He knew exactly how she felt. Or at least what he thought she meant by it.

“I got this job here and Gideon always said Hawkins was one of the cool places, so.”

Now Billy felt the need to ask the question that had been bugging him since Robin brought it up. “Is Gideon...your boyfriend?” It had been bothering him and filling him with a small amount of disappointment and worry.

“He’s...a friend.” Her gaze strayed away.

“Was he your boyfriend?”

She looked hurt. Hurt and uncomfortable. “Do you mind if I don’t get into that right now?” Y/n turned and walked to the swing set in front of them.

“Uh- it’s so not interesting to me...”

Y/n kept walking, Billy joining her and attempting to not bother her any more than he had already done. She took notice and initiated conversation so that he wouldn’t feel as awkward and guilty, “What about you, what do you do?”

“Oh, I’m in between jobs at the moment.”

“Between what and what?” She moved in front of the swing and sat down as Billy started talking. He did the same but his movements were still shy and cautious.

“Well my last job was...a long story, filled with sighs.”

“I know plenty of those.” Billy took the opportunity to check on Y/n. His face slowly looked over to hers, which was looking up and admiring the sky.

“Is that why you left New York?”

She looked in front of her, furrowing her eyebrows and nodding, “Pretty much. Just time to head somewhere a little more chilled.”

A cold breeze swept past the two. It was incredible timing.

“Well it’s certainly chilled here!” The wind gave Billy the perfect opportunity to try and lift the mood. A smile rested on his face, his joke seemed like one of the funniest things in the world seeing as Y/n had that same smile.

“Yeah...”

“It’s chilled as in cold...” Oh no. ‘Why the fuck am I so awkward?”

“Yeah.” ‘Oh dear god she noticed.’

The two decided to swing a bit more. With the conversation at a pause, that was honestly probably needed, Y/n and Billy swung their legs back and forth. competition started. They both tried to see who could go higher, Y/n won and smiled slightly while Billy smiled and chuckled with accepting defeat.

After they finished their fun, Billy and Y/n hopped off the swings for a finale. They continued their conversation afterwards, light droplets of rain mixed with small snowflakes falling over their heads.

“It’s ridiculous. Isn’t it like September?”

“No...but it doesn’t snow much in Indiana...ya know, I can barely see you?” His leather jacket was suddenly not projecting as much warmth as he normally would have anticipated. “This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.”

“I think ‘Act Of God’ is a pretty decent excuse for a lousy date.”

Billy stopped in his tracks. A sneaky signature smirk crept onto his face and his usual attitude made an appearance. “So this a date, eh?”

She stopped as well and turned. “Did I say date?” He nodded. “Slip of the tongue.”

“Tongue.”

“Anyway, nights not over yet...” She turned back to where they were originally facing, “and there’s a thingy over here somewhere.”

“Thingy?”

Once again, she turned her head towards him. “A door.” She turned it back, yet again, but this time there was a door in front of them. Odd. She nodded her head over to it in a beckoning way. “Come on.”

Billy took her hand and was dragged by her over to the mysterious door.

Y/n Come Closer ( . . . )

Y/n took off her shoes and looked up at Billy. He sat at her dining room table, staring at her with awe and adoration. Y/n broke the silence and walked over to her cupboard. “What kind of tea do you want?”

He didn’t know why he took his jacket off. His arms were cradling themselves as one would when they were cold. And he was cold. “There’s more than one kind?”

She opened the cupboard. “We have,” she inhaled. “Blueberry, raspberry, ginseng, sleepytime, green tea, green tea with lemon, green tea with lemon and honey, liver disaster, ginger with honey, ginger without honey, vanilla almond, white truffle, blueberry caramel, vanilla walnut, constant comment annnnnd...earl gray.”

When her sentence was finished, Y/n turned to face a wide eyed Billy. “Did you make some of those up?”

She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a box, “I think I’ll have sleepytime.”

“That sounds good to me...”

She made the tea and set it on the table. Billy’s position didn’t go unnoticed by her, “Want me to get you a blanket?” Her eyebrows were raised with amusement.

“That would actually be...awesome.”

Y/n walked away into her room. A few minutes passed. More minutes. Billy was almost done with his tea. He wondered where she went. He wondered why she was taking so long. Billy decided to go into her room and check on her, making a grunt-like wheeze.

Facing her closet, she was taking off her shirt. Upon hearing him, she turned and raised her arms. “Dude I’m changing.” She didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he just walked in on her while he bra was the only thing covering her chest.

Billy let out a small, “Ah, sorry!” and covered his eyes. “I’m just cold...”

“Here. That help?”

“Yeah...that’s very warm...What is that?” His hands slowly left his face. “Oh- kaaay...” Y/n was standing right in front of him with a cheeky grin on her lips. He leaned in and kissed her. It was finally happening. Their lips danced together, it felt like they had rehearsed the dance for so long yet in reality they were very new to each other.

The make out session with Y/n was all it took to break Billy. He was in love and he couldn’t deny it. As their passion turned rough and intense, he thought of how happy he felt and how he wouldn’t normally feel that with a girl.

They finally pulled away. Billy’s arms were around Y/n and one of her hands was on his shoulder, her arms laying loosely, and her other was clutching his side under his arm.

“Were you just gonna...bring the blanket from your bed?”

“I guess...” Her voice was soft, unlike her previous dead tone. Billy managed to shatter her “hardcore” exterior with a simple make out session. Or so he thought, if you asked anyone what they thought, they’d say Y/n managed to break him within their first conversation and then decided to let him in after touching her lips to his.

“Maybe we should...both get under it...since we’re both so cold...”

“What about our tea?”

Of course. The tea. Billy didn’t give a fuck about the tea. “I can...not have tea.”

The night went on with passion and...lust. They stripped down to their underwear and continued making out on Y/n’s bed. At some point they got under the blankets and Y/n leaned over Billy to continue their rough kissing. When it was “just about to get good”, Y/n pulled away from Billy.

“I changed my mind.”

“...changed it from what?”

“I don’t want to have sex with you Hargrove.” She moved over beside Billy, laying on his arm and snuggling into his side. “Not right now.”

Another, “Oooh- kay?” escaped Billy’s mouth. As usual, he didn’t know if he should feel hurt, angered or just plain okay with it. He longed for Y/n. She was his addiction, better than any drug. In his mind, he made the exception; feel bad about it later, stay with her for now.

“It’s not like I’m gonna send you home in this weather or anything, you can sleep in my bed. And I reserve the right to change my mind about the sex later.” At least he had a chance.

“This is...nice. Just this...” He was referencing their semi-cuddling forms. “It’s been like, a really long time so I think I needed this...whatever it is so...thank you.”

Y/n leaned over and kissed his cheek, “You’re welcome.” He wrapped his arms around her when she wrapped one of her arms around his neck.

. . .

Billy and his basketball team were just having some harmless fun. It was a game, and school was out for the day. No one could do anything bad, right? Wrong.

Read to show off, Billy brought the new girl to the gym. Max was dragged along since Billy was her ride home. He and his team were horribly distracted by the pretty girl now known as Billy’s first official girlfriend. Scowls and mean looks were given to Y/n by the other girls at school, purely out of jealousy. This morning, Y/n was walked down the hall of Hawkins’ high under Billy’s arm, wolf whistles and more sounded around them.

A weird looking guy stormed into the room, “MR. HARGROVE. IT IS I, MATTHEW PATEL. CONSIDER OUR FIGHT,” Y/n looked horrified. She was pale and breathing unsteadily. The guy who had announced himself to be Matthew moved his head slightly, nodding his hair out of his face. “BEGUN!”

He ran at Billy. ‘What is this kid on?’ Time felt like it was moving in slow motion. “What did I do...?” His voice was slow. He really was moving in slow motion. “What do I do...” Matthew launched himself into the air with his fist raised. He aimed himself to punch at Billy.

Tommy gripped the shoulders of the boys next to him, leaning forward and yelling with entertainment. “Fight!”

Billy’s eyebrows furrowed. His fists clenched. He threw the basket ball to the side and shifted to a fighting stance. He blocked Matthew’s punch with his arm and reversed their roles. He swung his fist at Matthew’s face, somehow knocking him to the side of the room. Tommy, Max and Y/n’s eyes widened, as well as everyone else’s in the room.

Matthew still refused to give up. He jumped in front of Billy, “Alright! Alright...”

Max yelled from the bleachers. “Watch out!” They all turned to her. “It’s that one guy.”

“Ha!” Matthew smiled mischievously and ran at Billy again. Sadly, some people just don’t learn from their mistakes. Billy threw an uppercut to Matthews chin, sending him flying to the back of the room. Billy got in some extra punches while Matthew was still down. The two landed in front of each other, most of the people in the gym now gathered around them.

Matthew blew dust off his shoulders and turned to Billy before laughing a laugh that could’ve been mistaken for a villain’s. They started to circle each other, Mathew taking a step to the left and Billy taking a step to the right, “Well well well...you’re quite the opponent.” His neck moved left and then moved back to the right after each syllable when he said, “Hargrove.”

“Who the hell are you anyway?”

“My name,” he swung his right arm up into the air, his left clenched in a fist that met his collar bone. “is Matthew Patel! And I’m Y/n’s FIRST,” Matthew lifted his pointer finger on his left hand and moved his arm to the side. He moved his fingers so that his pinky, ring and middle fingers were out, his thumb and pointer finger touching so that the tips were smooshed together. He turned back to Billy, “evil ex boyfriend.” His shoulders moved up and down one at a time when he said boyfriend. When his hand went down, he let out a growl.

“Her what?” Everyone’s heads turned to Y/n.

She turned to Max and the other people on the right of her. Y/n nervously smiled, “Anyone need a drink?”

A fight initiated between the two boys, fists and feet being used. The grunts coming from both males were loud. Surely, at least one of them would have bruises after this.

Max made a face of massive confusion, looking around for any clues of the situation. Her older brother kept fighting the abnormal kid. After a few more swings, Billy, again, realized how confusing this really was. He wanted to ask beforehand, but this Matthew guy was really determined to teach Billy a lesson.

“Wait!” He held out his hand in a stopping motion. “We’re fighting over Y/n?” He personally had no problem with it, but the “Evil Ex” thing was getting to his head.

Matthew lowered his fist slightly, “didn’t you get my letter explaining the situation?”

“I skimmed it...”

Max squeezed her eyes shut and clicked her tongue. “Mm mm.” She shook her head with her disconfirming noise.

Matthew only seemed to grow madder. “You will pay for your INSOLENCE!” He threw kick after kick after kick, all of which were blocked by Billy. The anger fueled him to the point where Billy could only do few attacks with little time. Just as Billy was gaining the upper hand, Matthew socked him square in the face with both fists, then his right foot with a jump spinning kick.

The people in the crowd behind Billy caught him when he fell backwards from the attack, pushing him forwards and urging him to continue with the fight. Matthew backed up one foot at a time and did weird dance, finishing it off with pulling his coat forward a bit so the dust came off of it and tilting his left foot upwards.

“Hey.” Max leaned forward, gaining the attention of two boys as well as everyone else in the gym. “What’s up with his outfit?”

“Yeah. Is he a pirate?” Laughter flooded the room at Tommy’s observation.

Billy was also curious. “Are you a pirate?” He asked Matthew in a simple and genuinely asking way. Unfortunately, Matthew looked caught off guard and offended.

“Pirates are in this year!” He wasn’t shouting, but he said it with a sassy and upset tone. “Gah!” This time he did shout. His fist was aimed at Billy, and his feet were already moving forward.

More attacks were made. Billy finally did have the upper hand. After Matthew tried to hit Billy’s face again, Billy caught his arms and held them to his chest. His eyes and head turned to Y/n. He was pissed off now. “You really went out with this guy?”

Everyone faced Y/n now. “Yeah.” She stood up and leaned forward, “In the 5th grade.”

Silence. Billy looked around, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he spoke up again, “And?”

She sighed. “It was football season and for some reason, all the little jocks wanted me. Matthew was the only nonwhite nonjock boy in town, so the two of us joined forces and we took 'em all down. We brawled and scrapped, fought for hours. Nothing could beat Matthew’s mystical powers. We only kissed once. After a week and a half, I told him to hit the showers.”

Matthew was full of rage. His furrowed eyebrows and reddened skin could do nothing but confirm that statement.

“Dude wait- mystical powers?” Billy was confused. Unluckily for him, Matthew took advantage of his distracted state and broke free from his grip. Music started playing in the background. Matthew pushed Billy and turned to Y/n, holding out his pointer finger and pointing at her. The veins on his forehead were bulging.

“You’ll pay for this,” He paused for a second. Y/n was visibly afraid. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was was ajar. Matthew finished his sentence with a slight raspy sound to his voice, “L/n.” He swiftly turned to Billy and started dancing and singing. It’s a cringey dance and song to say the least.

“If you want to fight me,”

Max made the same confused face as she had previously. “What!?” She knew it was dumb to pick a fight with Billy, but to sing and dance while doing so? And to get her exes together so they could fight Billy? Were they that dumb?

“Hah! You’re not the brightest.

You won’t know what hit you,

in the sligh-igh-ightest.”

He made sounds with his mouth, floating into the air. Black and white colored girls, kind of like those old animations on tv, were summoned around him. They looked like someone wanted to make demon girls but was a perverted guy who loves hipsters.

“This guy’s good-” One of the basketball team members spoke. He too was wide eyed and confused as fuck.

“Me and my fireballs,

my demon hipster chicks!”

Looks like he was right about hipsters.

“Tell ‘em Matty.” They had a seductive-like voice. With a closer look, Billy could see that their eyes were like snakes. Their teeth were sharp too.

“I’m talking thee talk,

‘Cause I know I’m slick!” He winked before his weird demons spoke again.

“S-L-ICK.”

“Fireball-balls!” He threw the fireball at Billy, who thankfully dodged it in time. Gasps were heard around the room. At least it wasn’t just Billy seeing this shit. “Take this sucker out!” More flames erupted from his hands, shooting at Billy again.

“We’ll show him

What we’re all about!”

“That doesn’t even rhyme!” Billy finished off his sentence by throwing the now broken ring from the hoop at Matthew like a frizzbe. It hit him in the head and caused him to flip backwards a bit. His demons disappeared and it was his turn for his eyes to widen.

‘This is impossible. How can this be?’

Somehow, Billy heard and responded to Matthew’s thoughts with his own, ‘Open your eyes. Maybe you’ll see.’ He jumped at Matthew and returned the punch that had formerly knocked him back into the crowd.

Though, something strange happened this time. When Billy’s fist made contact with Matthew’s skin, he slowly fell a bit, but when he hit the ground, his body turned into 9 quarters. Everyone except for Tommy, Max, Carol, Billy and Y/n continued acting normal. The difference with them and the 5 others were that they had no memory of this “Matthew Patel” or of any fight. The damage in the gym was restored, but still. The 5 of them knew what happened and didn’t know quite yet that no one else did.

“Sweet! Coins!”

“Coins that’re mine, shortstack.” Billy took the remains of Matthew from the poor kid holding them. He walked outside, following the other 4 to discuss what just happened.

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uniqueanjol · 4 years ago

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Simply unexpected prt.21

We cook together creating a full and beautiful meal filled with color. The warm and inviting smell mixed with the sweet smell of black berry wine. I take our plates and walk them over to my couch setting them onto two TV dinner trays. Mable follows by placinging our glasses on the trays and adding forks to our plates. I desperately search for the remote to turn on the television , though I do not have cable I do have flixnet and other streaming apps. I scramble looking on my table and on the TV stand “where the Hell'' I mutter to myself then I look back at Mable who is giggling to herself holding out the remote to me. “Oh dear was it there the whole time?” I ask reaching out and taking the remote from her long arms. She shakes her head yes “it was in your seat” she says releasing the remote into my hands I walk back and plop myself down next to her turning on the TV and sifting through movies ``have you ever watched 7 deadly ex’s?” She pulls the wine glass from her lips, “I have not, is it good?” her tongue poking from her mouth licking the wine from the rim of her lower lip. Excitement rushes through my body. “Yes! Yes it’s one of my favorite movies! This guy falls in love with a girl named flowers but before they can be together he has to defeat her 7 deadly ex’s!” Mable laughs as I talk about the movie,with gallant hand gestures and sporadic movements. Embarrassed, I stop myself and she reaches out her hand to my face,gently caressing the curve of my cheek to my chin. “You're cute when you get excited.” The heat rushes to my cheeks and I panic knowing the sheer amount of heat rushing to my face could have burnt the soft tips of her fingers. Quickly I hit play and condensed myself as small as I can to avoid her eye contact while I regain composure. I begin to pick at my food taking the first bite. As I do my eyes widen, “this outstanding, holly shit! Mable.” The chicken was perfectly seasoned with just the right amount of spice, the vegetables cooked to a perfectly juicy yet crunchy bite allowing for the perfect mix of seasoning and flavor. She shakes her head with a mouth full of chicken waiting to swallow. “Thank you! I’m glad you like it! It’s my specialty dish.” Sipping my wine I watch her as she waves her fork and flips her hair, “I call it throwing shit together until it tastes good!” Taking another bite I close my eyes, “I like it, I can really taste the years of family tradition put into it.” I open my eyes to see her smiling back at me turning her eyes to the screen as Pilgrim, the main character, gets handed the note with the 7 deadly exes. I point wildly at the screen “He doesn't know it yet but he has to take down and fight her ex’s that are all on that little list!” the greens of her eyes shine as she glances over at me with a grin, “Oh really? Do you relate in any way?” My heart stopped and I could feel all 5 of my personalities hit the panic button at once. Every anxious Voice in my head speaks at once having a conversation without me

Graces personalities

Gracie: “Is she asking what it takes to date me? There's no possible way! She's seen me! She knows what I look like! She already knows I'm an idiot, she saw the vegetables, she saw me drunk, she saw me stuck! No way, No way!”

Joel: “Oh shut up Gracie, it’s clear she’s into you and if she's not just playing it cool, walk it off. No harm no foul. Lean in right now kiss those smooth wine stained lips.

Gray: “Guys! Are we forgetting something? We totally packed up our life and left everything behind for a reason. Getting close to someone might not be the best Idea here. She’s nice, but, that's why we have to keep the distance and not get ahead of ourselves. She doesn't deserve to get hurt.”

Joel: “shut up! You’re overthinking it, just make the move Grace!”

Gracie: “No! Too soon, to soon!”

Ed: “Shush! Gray is right. We are forgetting why we came here. Grace, it’s clear she wants to be in your life, this is supposed to be a “funny question” but, you know damn well the answer is complex. You know you relate more to the movie than you want to but Mable doesn’t know that, nore does she need to. You are new to her, a Shiny new toy, nothing more and much, much less.

Grace: “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! She’s not here! She’s gone! Please, it’s not that serious. It was a joking question! please just let me be happy for a single FUCKING moment.

The voices silence and I laugh,”I relate more than you could ever guess!” I smiled and shot a wink her way. Her eyes widened and she raised an eyebrow “Oh really now? Well.. I’m ready!” Her smile brought me comfort realizing the anxiety added more weight to a simple joke. She shoots a finger gun my way, “Would you care for some water and another shot?” Thank god, “Oh, yes please!” She stands taking my plate and hers to the kitchen. I didn't even realize I had scarfed down the entire plate. I watch as she takes the dishes to the sink and grabs water and the bottle of whiskey. I click pause on the Television, “I think too much… and… I don’t want to think. So would you be willing to play a game with me?” Mables eyebrows frayed as she looked at me. “I'm listening.”

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beckzorz · 5 years ago

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After (one-shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes & Reader Words: 2413 Warnings: ANGST (suicide attempt, self-harm, depression). Endgame spoilers. Summary: The impact never comes. A/N: Congrats to my dear dear Tara @moonbeambucky! This is for her 5k challenge, using the prompt, “I hate the truth. I just want to lie for a little bit longer.” HUGE thank you (belated, I’m so sorry!) to @marvelgirl7 for providing essential feedback! Hope you all enjoy!

Trash litters the empty road.

You stumble, the air suddenly cool on your tear-streaked face.

The impact never comes.

Your knees hit the pavement, the shock shuddering through you as you gasp. The car… Where is the car? The car, it was right there, right about to hit—

Your hands shake as you swipe at your eyes, every breath cutting through your constricting lungs as you stare at the empty road. Half the trees are green, half in the thick of autumn. Red, orange, gold. Nearly every yard is overgrown; stiff grass pokes out of cracks in the sidewalk. Sounds filter in slowly. Wind in the trees, the skitter of dry leaves across the pavement, some screams, some cries, some laughter half-mad, as crazed as you feel. You press your hand to the road, push yourself up, turn in place.

Rusted cars in driveways.

Your car, rusted in your driveway next to one dusty with use. The keys in your pocket poke you. You tug them out. They rattle in your trembling hands.

Good as new.

A siren wails in the distance. A shadow in the sky, to the bright north. North? North is the facility. The compound. The neighbor no one likes to think about.

Another shudder hits you, but this one isn’t your own weak shock. This is from below.

More screams, people running, and then a face you know stops stock-still in front of you.

“Oh my god,” your husband breathes. “You’re back.” He reaches out, the bags under his teary eyes nothing to the gray in his hair, the lines on his face, the bare ring finger…

You step back. Look at your own hands. They’re the same, exactly the same, ring and all. Straight down to the pale lines peeking out around your wrists, under your sleeves.

“I—”

“You’re back,” he says, and then he’s holding you, and you shudder again.

—

Five years.

Five years and a moment at the same time.

A moment ago, you were ready to die. You were eager to die. And your husband… He’s still alive. Older. Less hearty. But still alive, and uncorrupted by that urge to be no more.

Unaware of what you’d just been about to do.

Of what you’d been about to do… five years ago. It’s more than you can wrap your head around, even more than your husband’s continued ignorance of how trapped you feel by life—even more so now, when you know you’d been dead. Been gone.

The couch is more worn than it was, and you sink deeper than usual into the cushion at your regular spot. Everywhere you look, the changes make your head spin. That photo of your nephew is new—my god, he’s so much bigger—the end table has a different finish, the wedding photos have been taken away.

Just like his ring.

But your husband fishes out his wedding ring, puts the photos back on the mantelpiece. He bares his soul of all the painful attempts at connecting with someone else, when always your ghost haunted him. You let him talk, but his words wash over you.

How does the saying go? Til death do us part?

Death parted you, and death still clings to you with hungry fingers.

He thinks he lost you when you vanished, but you’d been a goner a long time before that.

—

You press your hands to your face after he kisses you goodnight.

“Soon,” you whisper. “Soon.”

Two days in, when the news of the Avengers and the deaths and the invasion have all come rolling in, you leave.

—

The chill in your bones is more than the weather. The world’s a bleaker place now, even with all the celebrating. Some don’t seem to see it. But the trash on the ground, all the debris… You still don’t know what happened to the car you wished had hit you. Had the driver disappeared too? Or had they missed you by a moment?

God, if only they’d been driving faster.

None of it feels real. The world you know—no, knew—is gone. There’s nothing left of it but overgrown memories. That tree at the end of the street—it’s too big, the trunk patchy with strange moss. The park is clogged with too many dead leaves, piled around the fence, the streetlights.

The strangest thing is that some of the potholes you’ve been complaining about for years have been filled. All the decay around you, half of everyone haggard and the other half in shock—and yet filled potholes.

It’s surreal. So surreal that if you stare at the ground, it feels like you’re in another world.

Like all the heavy truths hanging over you, gripping every bone in your body, aren’t there.

Every platitude is a lie, of course. But you cling to them because where you’re going, the truth will out. And there will be no escaping it.

—

You make your way upstate, to the ruins of a battleground with not a body left insight. The landscape is scarred, more so than yourself, but there’s no blood. The Avengers compound is all but debris.

There are people among the rubble. People like you, stunned or scavenging or mourning.

You’re… you don’t know what you are.

Stunned, maybe. Scavenging, no. Mourning? Not for the Avengers. Not…

Not after what they did.

Ah.

That explains the chill. You’re angry.

You can feel it now. The twisting in your gut, masked by hunger. The coil in your chest, masked by that grip of death around your heart. The clenching of your jaw, masked by the cold.

Still, a wave of relief washes over you. It’s been months—for you, anyway—since you’ve felt something this strong.

A chirp overhead grabs your attention. You stare—a little drone, gray with red-tipped wings, a few feet over your head.

“This area has been classified as dangerous,” the drone chirps. “Please vacate the area, or you will be escorted out.”

It hovers for a moment, waiting. You don’t move.

“This area has been classified as dangerous. Please vacate the area, or you will be escorted out.”

You sit cross-legged in the loose dirt.

“This is your final warning. This area has been classified as dangerous. Please vacate the area, or you will be escorted out.”

The dirt is cool against your hands. Your only movement is to close your eyes and dig your fingers into the earth, feel it dead and crumbling under your fingernails.

If someone were to touch you, would you crumble? Would you feel dead to them too?

A pop overhead has you staring into the sky. The little drone—it’s almost like a bird, isn’t it?—has shot a flare into the air, its smoky trail in a bright upwards arc that ends a dozen feet over your head. Then the drone moves on, winding its way over the tattered topography, looking for someone else.

You look back down. The dirt shifts as you wiggle your fingers, though by now the chill has settled so you can barely feel your fingers. A few inches away, a flash makes you blink. You draw your hands from the earth and reach out, curious.

It’s… a little metal shard. Half red and half white, paper-light yet sharp as knives. You turn your hand's palm up and contemplate your covered wrists. Your pea coat is stiff, but you could bare enough skin. You could—

“Hey!”

You flinch, eyes wide and heart racing. The little shard fits neatly into your fisted hand, the edge biting into your palm. It’s enough to make you feel it, and some of the lingering tension melts out of you. The nick is painful, but it’s eminently satisfying. Like scratching an itch, or picking a scab…

A man is jogging towards you. Not a man you recognize. It’s not Captain America, not the Falcon. You stare blankly up at him as he stops a few feet away, not even breathing heavily after a run—who knows how long he’d been running. The ruined complex must still be a mile away. All the same, he looks thoroughly unbothered by his jog.

And thoroughly annoyed at you.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says.

A hollow laugh bubbles out of you. The man stares at you, his face pinched in confusion as your laugh devolves and tears leak from your eyes.

“Uh,” he says.

He tugs a handkerchief—a handkerchief?—out of his pocket and holds it out. You take it and wipe your cheeks with shivering fingers before thrusting the damp cloth back towards him. He takes it slowly.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he repeats.

“No,” you tell him. “I shouldn’t.”

—

His name is Bucky, and he shouldn’t be here either.

“I should’ve died in ‘43,” he says.

He’s not bitter. Not like you. Just matter-of-fact, like he’s used to it. Well, ‘43 was a long time ago. Seventy-five—no, eighty years now. He’s walking you back towards the road, keeping a distance from other departing pilgrims and scavengers. You keep your hands in your pockets, the shard in your fist still digging into your skin.

“But I didn’t,” he continues. “Every time I thought I’d die… I didn’t. The ice, the Potomac, the fading away.” He exhales in a little huff. “By now I’m almost used to it, I guess.”

Your throat tightens. “But we’re not meant to live forever.”

“Eighty years isn’t not forever. It’s just a helluva long time.”

“How can you be so calm about it?” Your fists tremble in your pockets. He’s just walking, eyes ahead, his face so damn serene you can’t stand it. “People have been screwing you over for eighty years, and you aren’t even bothered!”

Bucky snorts. “Like I said. I’m used to it. After all the shit I’ve dealt with, one more thing ain’t gonna kill me.”

“But it did kill you!” you exclaim, stopping in your tracks. “It killed you, it killed all of us! I was dead! What right did they have to stop me being dead?”

He pauses a few steps in front of you. A few seconds pass as your last words fade, seeping into the ground crumbling around you, beneath you. Only when you can feel the heavy silence weighing on your shoulders does Bucky turn, but he doesn’t look straight at you.

“Death is never something to look forward to,” he says flatly. He sighs, then pauses. He glances sideways at you, his blue eyes piercing as his nostrils flare. “You’re bleeding.”

You stiffen.

“Where?”

Heat washes over your face. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Your fist curls tighter, driving the shard a little deeper. You hiss at the fresh jolt of pain.

Bucky grabs your elbow before you have the wherewithal to step back. He yanks your hands out of your pockets.

“Ow!” Your eyes sting with fresh tears as you tug against his hold. But Bucky doesn’t stop—he pulls open the wrong fist, and then the other, and the second he sees the blood on your palm he swears.

Then he spots the shard embedded in your palm, and he freezes.

It’s your turn to stare. There’s something awful in his face, a kind of primal grief, the kind you know all too well. His face is white as bone, eyes so wide open that the whole shape of his face has changed.

You can’t look at him anymore. Your gaze lands on your throbbing palm, on the shard of red and white, and it clicks. Bucky Barnes, red and white.

And blue.

For a moment, one shining moment, you’re back in 2008. The wonder, the shock, the joy—the return of Captain America, lost in the ice, back to fight against tyranny and evil before everything went wrong. For the world, and for you.

“Is this… the shield?” you breathe.

Bucky starts. His expression goes blank. In a few seconds, he’s pulled the shard away and tied up your palm with his handkerchief, the white cotton blooming red with your blood.

“No,” he says shortly. He shoves the shard in his pocket and nudges you onward. “Just part of it.”

“But…” You trail off; your steps slow.

Bucky stops short with a huff. “Things are different now,” he snaps. Then he sighs and scrubs his hand over his eyes. His tone softens. “We all have to get used to it.”

You stare over his shoulder, dread, and deadness settling back in your stomach. “I don’t know if I can,” you whisper.

“Things change. That’s just the truth.”

Rage shoots through you, hot and sickly and blinding. You spin away, hands trembling. “I hate the truth,” you hiss.

“What?” Bucky’s incredulous. Shocked. He grabs your arm, turns you back to face him. You meet his eyes fearlessly, angrily, but there’s something you can’t name in his expression, in his mouth, in his eyes. The anger melts away, Bucky drops your arm, and you’re left feeling empty and bereft.

“I hate the truth,” you repeat, quietly this time. “I want… I want to lie for just a little longer.”

Bucky’s eyes flit across your face. You don’t know what he sees, but he doesn’t push you onward again like he’s done every time you’ve stopped before now. Instead, he gently takes your hands, careful with your injured palm.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is more gentle than ever before. “Whatever happened to you, wherever you’ve been, whatever you were… everything’s different now. You don’t have to be stuck in the past. Trust me, it sucks.”

Your lips twitch, and Bucky smiles. You can’t look away from him, not with his hands curled around yours and his eyes so kind and his smile so sweet.

“I know it’s… hard. Picking up the pieces, starting over. It sucks,” he says bluntly, but his soft smile doesn’t fade. “But it’s not impossible. And this time, none of us are alone.”

The empty spot in your chest warms a little, and as the warmth settles, you realize that the grip of death on your heart is fading away. Tears spring to your eyes, happy ones.

Bucky drops your hands only to pull you against his chest. You hadn’t really noticed before, but he’s large, and warm, and so solid with his arms around you that you let yourself relax into his hold.

“I got you,” Bucky murmurs. He squeezes your shoulders. “I got you.”

For the first time in years—for yourself, and for the world—you feel something like hope.

—

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think xoxo

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier imagine #becca writes

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