#and as soon as i was studying regularly realized i was fine to move to intermediate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sondepoch · 4 years ago

Text

HC: MC is more flexible than them!

Perfection is certain. Perfection is solid. Perfection is the body of a demon or an angel, where there is no room (or need) for bones to crack and muscles to stretch. You and Solomon, though? You’re human. Not so “perfect” when compared to the other inhabitants of at RAD—but that just makes it all the more interesting when they finally see the way the human body can crack and bend

Word Count: 5.5k

SFW + mild descriptions of cracking body parts

Characters: All brothers + All Undateables + Luke

MASTERLIST

Lucifer

Instant panic mode

Man just learned that it’s possible for humans to break bones, so when he hears you casually crack your knuckles, he instantly assumes that all your fingers are broken

Finds it even more terrifying when you lean your head back and crack your neck

Honestly, the look of sheer horror on his face would be terrifying if you didn’t find it so funny

Is actually super confused when he realizes that you’re 100% fine but will not lower himself to actually asking you about it. That is not the Lucifer way, and so this man instead decides to secretly binge Satan’s collection of human anatomy instead

But uh, he gets scarily into it

Seriously, you’re starting to get concerned when it’s been nearly two full weeks of Lucifer ignoring you to bury his nose in a book, eyebrows furrowing every goddamn time he finishes one, and still has no clue what that cracking sound is

It’s only when you casually do it at the dinner table and Asmo cringes, complaining about how weird it is that humans get pockets of gas inside certain joints and they actually have to crack it out, to which all his brothers nod their head and cringe when you do it again, that he understands what it is

Has never been more relieved

He isn’t as disturbed by the sound as he was before, so it’s not as fun to tease him with it - but you can count on the fact that if you ever crack anything in his presence, he will pause whatever he’s doing to study you for a moment and make sure your face isn’t contorted in pain or anything

After all, he needs to be completely certain that you haven’t broken a bone

But someone help this man when he realizes how much more flexible humans are compared to demons

The first time you do a backbend in front of him, he actually flinches

Man can’t help but imagine himself in those poses - and no matter how sexy you look when you’re winking at him and stretching your body like it’s glue, his bones would have to be shattered to bits for him to do the same

Quietly asks you not to stretch yourself into such positions in his presence

On the bright side, you can shut him up in the middle of any lecture by “casually” stretching your arms back until the demon is so disturbed that he stops in the middle of his sentence and asks you to leave as soon as possible

All in all, not a big fan - but he can tolerate your antics (if only to save face)

But if you ever show him videos (or even pictures) of a contortionist, he may actually be scarred for the rest of his almost-eternal life

Mammon

Man really needs to learn how to knock

He barges into your room without warning, as usual, only to see you all but straddling the ground, legs spread wide apart as you lean to one side and touch your right toe

It’s the most basic human stretch there is - but it’s terrifying to Mammon

You don’t even get the chance to say hi to him before he’s lifted you onto your feet, pulling you up from under your arms, desperately asking why you weren’t screaming for help

Cannot process the fact that you were actually in that position willingly, much less the notion that it felt remotely good

Of course, you respond to his obvious aversion by showing him all the other ways your body can bend, flopping onto your bed and bending your body into a perfect bridge position

Mammon’s screeches when he sees the arch your back makes

It lowkey gives him nightmares the next night

Also becomes very touchy after he sees you move your body around so comfortably

In his eyes, you’re now the equivalent of a giant teddy bear - and really, what are the differences, now? He uses you for cuddles and hugs, can seemingly bend your body in any way and you’ll bounce back, and your skin is so soft compared to the hardness of his own body

Man actually grows used to your body after a while, holding a strange fascination for the way you can move

Begins to think that it’s cool when you show him how you can crack your knuckles and such

Absolutely makes use of the fact that some of his other brothers hate the sound, casually walking up to them with you by his side and asking them (while you crack your knuckles) to forgive his debts

Works 90% of the time

The 10% when it doesn’t work, though, he gets into trouble

In his free time, though, he actually likes lying with you and trying to figure what other body parts you can crack

Courtesy of Mammon, you learn that you can crack your hip if you stretch at a certain angle

(Bonus:) He one day tries to stretch his body the way you stretch yours and does a basic hamstring stretch on the ground, trying to touch his toes, but the exertion is too much for his inflexible body and he sort of locks a joint, so he’s left on the floor for nearly half an hour until you find him in his room and help him out of it

(Bonus bonus:) After his trauma from the above incident, he immediately goes back to assuming that you’re in great pain every time he sees you do a particularly difficult stretch and instantly lifts your body out of the position, no matter how you protest and say that you’re fine

Leviathan

"What a normie”

That’s the only reaction you get when you crack your knuckles in front of him, eager to see what he’ll do after realizing how much it disturbs his other brothers

Needless to say, you’re disappointed by his utter nonchalance

But that’s only because you have no clue what happens to Levi when he runs to his room and closes his door, jumping into his bathtub with a shook expression on his face

“Oh my god!” He squeals. “iT wAs LiKE iN tHe aNImES”

Nah, fr tho

Man has seen more than enough human-world shows which feature characters cracking their knuckles before getting down to work, so he’s pretty familiar with the concept

Like many things in anime, he was only 60% sure that it was real

But you actually did it

And it was in real life

Man is practically fanboying over a perfectly normal phenomenon

While you’re sitting in the living room, thinking that he was utterly unfazed by it :(

But when the two of you have a whole year to spend together under the same roof, it’s honestly inevitable that the truth comes out

“You like it?” You ask, pure confusion settling over your faces. After all, he’s the first of the brothers to not be utterly horrified by your little habit

“N-no!” Levi shouts, hiding his face. “I mean, maybe...just a little...sort of...but not in the normie way!”

Boi is too cute for his own good

Of course, you humor him and proceed to crack every single joint you can think of, sending a wink Levi’s way

It would be so easy to tease him, wouldn’t it? To mess with him and call him strange, to compare to his brothers and remind him that you’re not an anime character - and that anime is, in fact, based on humans, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that humans could crack their knuckles the way he’s seen online

But, he’s too precious. And too cute. And he’s too adorable, staring at you with that utterly captivated expression, so you can’t help but humor him again, asking if he wants to see some of the other differences between humans and demons

And when you show him how you can bend your body, man is shook all over again

He 100% thought that the absurd stretches (like a split? how preposterous) were merely fabrications of animation - flourishes added in by animators to make the visuals more interesting

But seeing you move like that? And when you show him the other stuff?

Congratulations. Boi is officially convinced that humans are more interesting that anime can ever be.

Satan

One of the few demons who was already familiar with the fact that humans are ridiculously flexible and can crack nearly everything in their body

He was actually the one to approach you about it

“Stretch for me, human.”

Or well, the same thing but in less blunt words

Actually invites you to have tea with him where he first broaches the subject, confirming that you'll be fully comfortable with everything he wants to study

Lmao man really arranges to have a safe word in case he pushes you too far

Once you’ve agreed to letting him study how the human body can bend and crack, the two of you set a time and meet up in his room (and yes, he does clear his books out of the way to make room for you)

And so the stretching begins

It actually feels quite awkward at first with Satan showing you pictures from human world yoga books and asking you to mimic them, taking notes in a book on everything

Gets really excited when he realizes that your flexibility is a function of how often you stretch, and once he realizes that you’re able to go a little farther each day, he becomes lowkey obsessed with finding out whether there's a limit or not

Boi may or may not secretly try to stretch in his own room in case demons are just naturally less flexible and need to stretch regularly to become like humans

Also almost breaks his arm attempting that, so he never tries it again

The whole ordeal fits itself into your routine after long enough: after school, you go to Satan’s room and do yoga while he jots down notes on how your body moves, and after everything is done the two of you have tea

Satan never touches you while you’re stretching for fear that he’ll physically push you into something uncomfortable, but when you explain that certain positions are easier to hold if someone helps, he’ll definitely try to be a helping hand

He starts out really tentatively, hesitant that he’ll be too strong and will push you to the floor or something, but he’s pleasantly surprised to find that humans are more resilient than he’d initially thought

After his notebook is filled with notes and he’s suitably convinced that all his questions are sated, he’ll express his gratitude and tell you that you don’t need to continue

But if you tell him that you’ve been enjoying your time together, man will 100% clear that space in his room permanently, so that you can spend time there together while Satan asks you calming questions about your day and you stretch the tension of the day out of your muscles

Asmodeus

Jelly boi

Nah but fr

Man couldn’t care less about your ability to crack your knuckles and neck - if anything, he finds the habit to be irritating

But boi is jealous when he sees how easily you can bend your body and stretch into positions that even he can’t

Obviously, his mind is in the gutter when he’s thinking about the way your body can bend - but he’s equally furious of the fact that human skin is so much softer than demon skin

Like, yes. Most demons have near-perfect skin because of its taut texture - and yes, that gives them the illusion of perfection

But human skin, blemished as it is, is like a teddy bear next to a rock when compared to demon skin

And obviously Asmo’s skin is softer than everyone else’s (this man is NOT skimping out when it comes to his skincare routine), but it infuriates him that his skin isn’t as soft as yours

Of course, man bounces back quicker than anyone else (as expected)

He grows content with the texture of his own skin the moment he realizes how easily penetrable human skin is - namely when he’s doing homework with you and he sees your skin get sliced open by paper, of all things (man nearly chokes when he learns that this is a regular occurrence for humans)

But he never quite loses his fixation for the human body

It’s highkey the reason why he likes touching you so much - your skin is softer than some Devildom blankets! If he could fall asleep with your arms wrapped around him every night, he absolutely would

But he won’t genuinely request that of you unless you explicitly offer, so he’ll settle for simply hugging you at every opportunity

Ofc, the moment he grows content with the texture of his skin, he’s jealous of your flexibility all over again, so it’s kind of nuts

You eventually have to sit him down and tell him all the downfalls of being able to bend yourself into awkward positions (ex: getting stuck in said position or causing a cramp) for him to finally be content with his own body once more

The moment he’s back to normal, all the usual flirtatious jokes come back and he’s offering to let you show him the ways your body can bend

You deny instantly

But if he ever takes you to a club and has the opportunity to dance with you, do a body roll

Man will get on his knees if that’s what it takes to have you do it again

And then he’ll whisk you off to his room, stubbornly ignoring his brother’s protests, declaring that he needs to “reeducate” himself in the art of dance, and that you’re going to be his teacher

And hey - give him a private show while you’re at it ;)

Beelzebub

The first time you crack your knuckles in front of him, he’s eating

Man doesn’t really register it, just assumes that he bit something crunchy

The second time you do it, it’s in his and Belphie’s room - and Belphie is taking a nap

Man gets a little suspicious, because the sound definitely came from your end, but he dismisses it and decides that the sound must have been a hitch in Belphie’s breathing

But the third time, the two of you are alone

And Beel’s protective instincts come rushing to the surface when he realizes that you really are the one making that sound

“Are you dying?”

First question, no matter what. Man has heard of medical conditions that cause bones to become brittle and crumbly, so he needs to know

Then again, he won’t really believe you when you tell him the truth

“You can...crack stuff at will?”

beelisconfuzzled.exe

You have to show him methodically, portion by portion, which of your body parts you can crack

He isn’t disturbed by the sound (he’s eaten things which sound much worse, he can assure you) but man is intrigued

(”But how?” He’ll inevitably ask, struggling to yank his own knuckles off in an attempt to crack them and get that feeling of satisfaction you kept talking about)

All in all,he has a decent reaction - probably one of the only people who won’t overreact about the information

But then the fateful day comes

And he cracks your back

It happens while he’s giving you a big bear hug, proud of you after you came running to tell him about a good grade you got in Devildom Literature - and he places his palm on your back in just the right area, pressing down as he hugs you

And pop

Man is so mortified, he almost drops you

You, on the other hand, cannot be more pleased with this development

“Again! Again!” You shout, trying to get him to repeat the action - but while Beel loves hugging you, cracking your back is something he’s not willing to risk

“It’s okay when you do it, because you know how much your back can take” is his biggest argument. "But I don't."

And unfortunately, calling him a chicken won’t work when you try to convince him otherwise :(

What will work, however, is convincing Beel that this can be a sort of strength training - because he needs to have full control of his body to do it right

He’ll agree to do it once (mainly because you’ve been begging for so long)

But, obviously, “once” means as many times as you want, from there on out ;)

Belphegor

It’s one of the few times where Belphie isn’t in tune with his brother

And he hates it

He doesn’t understand how Beel isn't disturbed by the sound - every time you crack your knuckles, it sends a shudder straight down Belphie’s spine

And it’s not the ick factor taking place. It’s just that Belphie can’t help that his mind wanders to darker places whenever you do something like that, the sound abruptly reminding him of his time in the Celestial War and all the awful things he heard there

Like others, the sound reminds him of how weak you really are

And so, if you ever crack your knuckles around him, expect him to leave instantly

He’s the one brother who will never learn to tolerate it - not when he can remove himself from the situation so easily

And honestly, it’s kind of amazing how sharp his ears are

Is he taking a nap on your lap? If you think you can subtly crack anything without his eyes shooting open, you’re wrong

Is he preparing dinner with you in the kitchen? Nope, the sound of boiling water will not cover the sound of your body stretching too far, and Belphie will shoot you a glare before swiftly exiting the room

Is he simply doing homework with you in the RAD library? You’d think that the sound of chatter from the table next to you would hide the noise you make when you subtly lean back to crack your back, but Belphie is gathering his things mere seconds later, huffing and muttering under his breath

So yeah

Not a fan

On the other hand, he loves how accommodating your body is in terms of how flexibly you are

It brings him great joy, honestly, to just watch you flop your arms around aimlessly because humans�� movements are so fluid, so smooth, so unhindered by the rigid joints of demons

And, obviously, your flexibility makes for better naps

He likes to sleep next to you with his arms wrapped around your waist while you latch onto him in whatever position you deem comfortable

Without a doubt, the position you find is something that would be wholly impossible for a demon (how are you bending your legs that much?!) and it sometimes scares him to realize the full extents of your flexibility (can all humans twist their arms like that, or is it just you?) but he loves that you use your body’s oddities to pull him closer

And he’ll never deny you a comfortable nap if you’re willing to cuddle so readily

Never

Unless you crack your knuckles, that is

Solomon

Life is war and cracking body parts is your only weapon

Aka nonstop competitions between you and our resident wizard boy, both of you cracking body parts back and forth until one of you either fails or runs out of things to crack

Knuckles? Come on, are you even trying? Give him something less basic

Back? Oh yeah. Both sides, too - and the loud ones

Hips? You didn’t think it was possible, but Solomon will look you in the eye and hit one side of his hip, the movement a prelude to an instant CRACK which rings out oh-so-gloriously from the other end

Ribs? You realized you could crack them once and never stopped - you’re actually the one to teach Solomon how to do this

Neck? Always the finisher. So loud, and so satisfying

Neither the House of Lamentation nor Purgatory Hall ever wants to have the two of you over at the same time, because the residents know that you and Solomon will have these competitions. And they absolutely hate it.

So what do you do?

Go to the library and disturb the demons there, of course

It actually becomes a pretty sick form of payback to all the annoying demons that look down on the two of you for being humans, because they always cringe so hard when you guys do this

The two of you have deduced that the sound of knuckles cracking is the demon equivalent to the sound of nails on a chalkboard

And you fucking run wild with it

No one wants to piss either of you off, because you’ll both glare at the demon in question and proceed to crack every body part known to mankind (like seriously - it’s reached the point where you guys can crack your TOES, and if that isn’t absolutely amazing, then you don’t know what is)

It actually highkey annoys the demons in your classes, because you guys always crack everything right before an exam and while it helps you focus better, it effectively ruins their concentration

Ofc you guys don’t really care so they can suck it

But uh

Okay so the demons at RAD may or may not get fed up of you both one day and petition for Diavolo to instate a “No cracking body parts” rule in school

So yeah your primary source of entertainment sort of disappears after that point

But no worries, you and Solomon head to the downtown shopping districts instead and become the BEST hagglers in town

“Hey, can we get these shirts on a discount? Huh? You don’t do discounts?

*Aggressively cracks everything until the demon just wants them out of the store*

“How about now BICH?”

Simeon

You’re actually not the one to introduce Simeon to the idea of humans being able to crack their body parts at will

No, it’s Solomon who steals that pleasure from you

But will Simeon ever let the sorcerer know just how much it unnerves him? Absolutely not. So what does our beloved angel do?

Why, there’s only one option

Come running straight to you.

Man is disturbed. Honestly, disturbed is phrasing it lightly. If he were in his angel form, you’d be able to see how his feathers ruffle and flutter at the very thought of that sound

Needless to say, he hates it

(You 100% consider cracking your knuckles in front of him, just to tease him, but you decide against it)

See, Simeon is an angel. And that means 99% of the time, he’s surrounded by other holy spirits, all of which have bodies molded to perfection that simply cannot crack the way yours can. Whereas demons are forced into human interaction a little more (oft when they're summoned), Simeon really isn’t used your fragility, no matter how much he tries to remind himself of it

So yeah

He hates it

On the other hand - man loves how flexible humans are

The first time you flop down onto your bed, assuming a position that would be impossible for any demon or angel to take but is deemed “comfortable” by you, Simeon is enraptured

It’s not sexual, he just thinks it’s really amazing that you have so much control over your body when he can hardly do a standing glute stretch without breaking a limb

It’s almost funny, his fixation

Actually no - it’s not almost funny. It is wholly and completely hilarious, and you will not stop leading him further down this rabbit hole

When you send this man picture of an contortionist, he’s utterly mesmerized

Show him human ballet, and he will not stop watching it

So yeah

He appreciates parts of the human body, hates others - but as long as you never crack your muscles in front of him, he’s down

Also - after you’ve thoroughly interested him in the art of being a human, he may just write about it in his next book. If you read the next set of chronicles detailed by Christopher Peugeot, you already know who the “feisty but good-hearted human who can bend themselves into a pretzel” is based on

(Bonus: Do a body roll in front of him and he might faint - man knew the human body could but like that? You might just have corrupted an angel)

Luke

“So...cool...!”

Boi loves it

He cheers you on like a champ, laughing merrily as you crack your knuckles into oblivion, scaring away the other residents in Purgatory Hall

And no matter how many times Simeon warns him not to urge you on (”The human already has no sense of self-preservation, and you don’t need to help that along,” he said), Luke can’t help but watch with excited eyes as you show him how different the human body is

He’s almost like Levi with his ardent admiration, and he honestly finds nothing disturbing about the sound of you cracking knuckles

Just finds it cool

It actually serves as a catalyst for his relationship with Solomon, because Luke will 100% go up to him and ask him whether he can crack his body like you, and obviously, the man will laugh and prove that centuries of knowledge have made him better than the average human - even in this area

But yeah

You can really see his inner child come out

(Though don’t say that last part out loud - he’ll ignore you for three days in an attempt to be “mature” before you convince him to accept your apology)

But really - he may be the only person who can not only tolerate the quirks of your body, but openly endorses all of them

On the downside, though, he’ll also try to crack his knuckles...which won’t bode too well, given that his body was built to perfection by God

Boi almost rips his finger off

Simeon proceeds to instate a no-cracking-knuckles rule within Purgatory Hall to discourage any further attempts from Luke

But you know what he didn’t ban?

Backflips.

It doesn’t matter if you can or you can’t do them - Luke will happen to see a video of a human doing one (ahem, Solomon showed him it in an attempt to stir up trouble), and now he’s begging you to do the same thing in real life

Which doesn’t work out too well, given that backflips are hard

And you may not be successful 100% of the time

And obviously, Simeon eventually finds out that the two of you have moved onto a new fixation, and so he instate the no-backflips-in-Purgatory-Hall rule

But you know what he didn’t ban?

Cartwheels.

And so it continues on and on, indefinitely because the only way to cease your and Luke’s shenanigans would be to ban humans in Purgatory Hall, and Solomon is thankfully preventing him from doing that

Barbatos

Hates it, hates it, hates it

More than any of the brothers, more than any of the angels - this man loathes every oddity of the human body that makes it different from a demon’s

But not for the reasons you’d expect

See, it’s not the sound that bothers Barbatos

No, he’s heard the screams of the damned before. You cracking a few measly knuckles hardly makes him flinch as he pours your tea

But what Barbatos does hate is the fact that he doesn’t know what it means

Every single time you crack a knuckle in his presence, it doesn’t matter if the prince himself is speaking, because Barbatos’s eyes will fly straight to you

And yes - you guessed it:

Barbatos can’t tell the difference between the sound of you cracking your knuckles and the sound of you breaking a bone.

And for that reason, he hates it

It’s hardly his fault - he doesn’t even know if there is a difference between the two sounds. But this butler has no faith in you and no faith in humanity as a whole, so every time you crack your knuckles, it sends a rush of worry straight to his stomach, and the demon has to watch you for a solid ten seconds to make sure that you haven’t actually hurt yourself

Poor man

He’s the kind of guy to take everything in stride, so he'll probably never tell you how much he hates it when you crack your knuckles (and honestly, what would he say? “Hi, can you please stop cracking your knuckles because I care about you and it makes me concerned for your health???” No, that’s not going to work. And he doesn't know what will work, so he suffers in silence)

Seeing you stretch is even worse

It can be a casual stretch, simply pulling your arms above your head just slightly beyond what would be physically possible for a normal demon, but it sends a chill to Barbatos’s heart, and he’s worried all over again

See, when you crack your knuckles, at least it’s over. But when you stretch? Sometimes you hold your position for a minute, if not more - and Barbatos simply can’t turn away because he’s terrified that he will, and you’ll somehow hurt yourself

So yeah

No rest for this butler, not as long as you’re going around with that weak body of yours and are cracking and stretching your way into oblivion

On the bright side, it means that he’s almost always watching over you when you visit, an added layer of protection

The only difference is that while the others are focused on protecting you from other demons, Barbatos is preoccupied with making sure you don’t hurt yourself

Diavolo

Timing is everything

And indeed, you just happen to be in the midst of cracking your knuckles and neck the moment you’re transported to the Devildom, every single one of the most powerful demons in the land staring at you in horror as your body pops some more

"Oh no,” Diavolo whispers, frowning as he looks at Barbatos. “We got a defective human :(”

Nevermind the insult you feel at his words (who does this strange, unfairly-attractive redhead think he is, calling you “defective???” He might be correct in his judgement, but he had no right to voice his thoughts!), you are shook

Definitely not the best first impression for either of you to make

Of course, Lucifer is quick to pick things up with his explanation of what this place is and who he is, and the whole situation is mostly forgotten as you come to realize that you’re standing in front of a literal prince

But the past has a way of resurfacing

And obviously, several months later, you crack your knuckles once more in the presence of the demon lord

The immediate wince on his face is more than enough for you to read his mind

“You’re thinking I’m defective again, aren’t you?”

“YOU REMEMBER THAT?!”

Poor bby

He’s honestly such a brilliant ruler, but when it comes to maneuvering the minds of humans, it’s just not his strong suit

Anyway, the two of you have a long talk (aka you rant and Diavolo listens) where you explain to him that cracking knuckles is a normal phenomenon, and that - look, you can even crack other parts of your body

And the prince is fascinated

He knew humans were built differently than demons, but he’d simply assumed that your body was just as perfect as his, and that yours could simply handle less extreme conditions

Clearly, though, that wasn’t the case

Man decides that, as the ruler of hell and the man spearheading efforts to unite the three realms, it is his moral obligation to learn about the other ways humans differ from demons

And so the shenanigans begin

It’s honestly time-consuming, but Lucifer doesn’t mind because if you’re with Diavolo, you’re out of trouble, and Barbatos doesn’t mind because if Diavolo’s with you, then he’s out of trouble

All in all, it becomes the prelude to a LOT of time spent together, and a LOT of differences between demons and humans come to light.

Aka various iterations of “What do you mean, humans can’t bite through steel?”

3K notes · View notes

sonder-paradise · 3 years ago

Text

ˏˋ°��*⁀➷ Request: Chuuya Nakahara + 15 “Aggressive kisses; stumbling over things, pushing each other into walls” - Anon

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Genre: Suggestive to Angst to Fluff(?), Comfort

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x GN!Reader

You stared at the pathetic figure at your doorway. You studied the way he stared at you with those strange blue eyes, his fists clenched tightly together and his mind clearly clouded. The man whom you had an amorous relationship with was clearly not just here for a regularly loving evening together.

“Chu-“

Not letting you finish, Chuuya had grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him and yet at the same time pushing you backwards. You could barely register the door slamming shut behind you. As he practically collided against you, kissing you fully in an aggressive and passionate dance

You struggled for a second, trying to regain your breath as he dove back and forth for more. In doing so, you practically stumbled back into a side table nearby. His gloved hands sliding up and down your body as if he was searching for something. You pulled him away for a second, a hint of worry clouding your expression.

“Chuuya, honestly, what-“

Again, you were cut off by his lips once again. Shoving you against the wall a little too harshly for your liking. The kiss was still as electric as usual. His left hand pinning your wrists above your hand whilst his right continued to wander.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he uttered through the desperate heat in between the two of you.

You silenced yourself after that, though he appeared to grow rougher by the second. This time, pulling you away from the wall and pinning you down onto the sofa. All the while still trapped and entangled in that zealous kiss he had roughly pulled you into.

Fingers scratched and clawed and skin pressed roughly against skin. Eyes shut tightly for fear of drowning in the others’ fiery gaze. And at the same time, through the fervid desires to get rid of the pestering irritation of satisfaction and lust, you could sense a great wave of unsureness and sadness in his movements.

At this point, you had had enough of the insecurities embedded within his actions. Severing the kiss in between the two of you, you gazed up at him from beneath his pining stance.

“Stop. Stop that.”

His eyes seemed to stare back at you emptily before a sudden and crashing realization overcame him. Stormy blue waters suddenly turned into mellow, worry as he attempted to move off you.

“Shit. I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? Dammit, I shouldn’t have been so rough...” His words were laced with the same unsureness and sadness from his movements.

You halted his attempt to move away from you by holding his face in your hands. He was still hovering over you, concern in his expression as he looked down at your laying figure on the sofa.

Shaking your head, you silently assured him you weren’t angered with him. “No, I’m fine. Tell me what’s wrong. Use your words, my love.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a second or two just to let it linger a little longer. He was clearly grateful you weren’t angered with him. But he still didn’t seem to want to explain the source of his emotions.

Chuuya was never one for words. He expressed himself through body language and actions. His over-exuberant confidence and highlighted stances of dominance were enough to explain that. But during these times, you knew he wanted to express his thoughts through more than just his actions. It was healthier that way too.

He let out a low sigh, relaxing finally. His shoulders slumping slightly before his eyes looked back into yours. “Mission today,” he mumbled vaguely, “I lost a couple men… And then the thought of losing you appeared…”

You stayed quiet, letting him sort through the words in his mind. “Everyone seems to fucking leave… I’m scared you will too.”

The words seemed to finally sink into his heart and he shut his eyes again whilst your thumb caressed his cheek softly.

“I love you and I’m not leaving anytime soon. I wouldn’t leave even if the world was against you.”

You could feel him relax at the words and he opened his eyes again. This time a mixture of gratefulness and adoration filling that beautiful blue you loved so deeply. This time you didn’t need words to know how thankful he had been to hear those words. This time he leaned a little closer, as if asking for a kiss.

And this time you granted it to him.

Taglist: @alittlesimp @14th-century-homosexual-spirit @greenshirtimagines @jadegreenimmortality @requiem626k @whorefordazai @todorokichills @missrown

#ariel writes #100 follower event 💌#I went a tad overboard #but I love it #bsd chuuya #bungo stray dogs #chuuya x you #chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x y/n

171 notes · View notes

arc852 · 4 years ago

Text

An Unlikely Duo Ch. 1

Summary: Tommy is an orphaned borrower forced to move from the house he grew up in.

Wilbur is a foster kid inbetween homes.

What happens when they meet?

Warnings: Fear and panic

Word Count: 2936

Read on AO3!

***

Don’t let the human see you, don’t let the human see you.

Don’t get caught, don’t get caught.

Even at eleven years old, Tommy knew the rules well and just how important they were. His parents hadn’t left him with much when they disappeared several months ago, but they had been smart enough to teach him the rules and the very basics of borrowing.

Tommy thought he was doing pretty well for himself, all things considered.

He had managed to travel to the next building over from where he had been with his parents. He hadn’t wanted to leave but the humans of the house had recently gotten a cat and Tommy’s head rang with warnings from his parents. Cats and most other animals were dangerous. It was better for Tommy to leave then try and stay.

And so he did. Thankfully it hadn’t taken him long, a day at most to get past the yard and into the next lot. This house was bigger than the rest he had seen and he hadn’t understood why until he noticed the tens of kids running around the place.

Tommy felt a shiver run through his spine when he saw all the humans running about. He definitely couldn’t stay here. Too much of a chance for him to get caught.

He needed to move again, unfortunately, but he needed to gather more supplies first. So he went through the vent system, peeking into each room and trying to find one that didn’t have any humans in it. Though the task was proving difficult.

Finally, he stumbled upon a room that had no human in sight. Tommy grinned and maneuvered through the tunnels in the wall to come out underneath the one bed in the room. He gripped his bag tight, looking around the floor. Despite no humans around, his parents always told him to be on high alert, just in case.

With the coast clear, Tommy emerged from underneath the bed and looked up at the desk that was in the room. He couldn’t see the contents on it from the floor, but he needed a new paperclip for his hook and that was usually the place they were kept, so that was his best bet. He just needed to find a way up there.

He noticed the sheet of the bed hanging down towards the floor from the bed. He could go up that way and then get onto the nightstand right by the bed. From there, he could go across the windowsill to the desk. Perfect. Tommy started putting his plan to action, tugging on the sheet to make sure it was secure before climbing up and onto the bed.

Tommy had never been on a human bed before and it took him a moment to gain his footing on the uneven surface but he eventually evened out and made his way to the nightstand. He stepped back and took a running start, landing somewhat gracefully onto the wooden surface. He was about to hoist himself up on the windowsill when the door to the room clicked. Tommy froze, mind going into a panic as he watched as the door opened, revealing a human boy not too much older than Tommy. Tommy glanced around for a second before diving behind the alarm clock, making himself appear smaller than he already was as he curled up behind it.

Tommy heard the door shut behind the human and then muffled footsteps before the human all but flopped onto the bed right beside his hiding spot. Part of Tommy wanted to take a peek at the human, but the part of his brain that sounded a lot like his parents told him to stay still. He was going to listen to the latter, he really was, but then a series of sounds took place. Tommy couldn’t quite place them but it almost sounded like something was being shifted about and taken out of something.

And then music started playing.

Tommy’s eyes widened. He hadn’t heard much music in his short life. It was dangerous to be loud within the walls of a home and the humans he used to live with weren’t big on playing their music out loud. The only thing he can think of hearing regularly, was the soft voice of his mother singing him to sleep every night.

This music was different but still nice. There were some parts where it wasn’t so nice but overall, the music was good. Like, actually really good. Tommy wanted to see what was making the music and so, with his curiosity winning out, the borrower peeked out from behind the alarm clock, eyes widening at the...thing the human was holding.

No, not just holding. Using. The human appeared to be plucking and strumming strings that were attached to the thing. It was strange looking but it made one of the most beautiful sounds Tommy had ever heard.

Tommy hadn’t even realized he leaned out as far as he had until large brown eyes met his smaller, blue ones.

The music stopped suddenly and dread started to fill Tommy’s entire being. No, no, no, no. He had broken the one rule his parents had left with him. Don’t let the human see you, don’t get caught. Well, it was a little too late for that now.

“Whoa…” The quiet exclamation rang loudly in Tommy’s ears and it was just what he needed to snap out of it. He stood and turned to run. Maybe if he could make it to the desk like he had originally planned, there would be some cord or something for him to climb down with.

Unfortunately for the borrower, he never even made it off the nightstand.

“Wait!” The human yelled. The loud noise caused Tommy to falter and he turned his head to look back at the human. A giant hand filled his vision and before Tommy could even react, the hand wrapped around his small frame, stopping him in his tracks and effectively trapping him.

Tommy gasped at the uncomfortable warmth that surrounded him, at the pressure being applied to his body. It wasn’t enough to hurt but Tommy knew that could change in a second and that thought had his heart pounding.

Tommy tried struggling within the grip but the fingers didn’t budge, not even to allow his arms free. Instead, he was lifted and brought up to the human’s face. The human’s eyes were full of curiosity and wonder as the two met eyes once more. Tommy couldn’t help but shake at the feeling of being studied. Like he wasn’t a person but simply an interesting trinket the human found.

“Look at you,” The human spoke, grinning. “You’re so small!”

A small whimper escaped Tommy involuntarily and he turned his head away from the giant face. His heart beat so fast that Tommy would be surprised if the human couldn’t feel it. Was this it then? Were all the stories true and this human was going to be the end of him? Tommy could do nothing but wait.

***

Wilbur’s smile turned to a frown as he noticed the fear overtaking the small being. He hadn’t meant to scare it. Him? Wilbur wasn’t even sure if the being was sapient yet but from the way he was reacting, Wilbur had a pretty good guess.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” Wilbur said, keeping his voice low and hopefully soothing. He saw the small being glance up at him, still shaking like a leaf and with an added touch of disbelief to his already fearful face. Wilbur studied the tiny creature’s features, realizing just how human the thing looked. “What are you?”

He didn’t get an answer but he did notice the tiny creature starting to hyperventilate from his panic. Worry entered Wilbur’s mind, he didn’t want the little thing to pass out on him. “Seriously, you’re okay. Here, how about I do this?” Wilbur set the little guy down on the bed, hoping that would calm him down. But as soon as Wilbur took his hands away the little guy started running right for the edge. Wilbur’s eyes widened. “Whoa! Wait!”

Wilbur reached back out and easily grabbed the tiny creature again. This time, however, he was met with more than just a fearful look.

“Let me go!” The tiny creature screamed, much louder than you would expect of such a small creature. Wilbur froze, eyebrows raised in surprise that the tiny being could actually speak. Though thinking more on it, it made sense with how human the little guy looked. Wilbur’s shocked expression soon turned into slight annoyance.

“I just did and you tried to run! I already said I wasn’t going to hurt you.” Wilbur responded. He had repeated himself at least three times now, why couldn’t the little guy understand that?

“And you expect me to believe that, b****! No! Let me go!” The tiny thing continued to yell and frankly, Wilbur was impressed by the sudden courage the little guy seemed to have gained. For someone terrified of being hurt, he had no trouble calling his supposed captor a b****.

Wilbur’s frown deepened. He really didn’t want to let the little creature go, especially now that he realized he could speak, but he also felt bad for how much he was scaring the little guy. Despite the yelling, Wilbur could feel the little guy shaking in his hand. His heartbeat faster than it should be.

Wilbur bit his lip, coming up with a compromise that would at least let Wilbur learn something. “Okay, okay, I’ll let you go if you answer three questions. Deal?”

The little guy paused, thinking it over. He then glared. “How do I know you’ll actually let me go?”

That was a fair question, Wilbur supposed. He shrugged. “You don’t but it’s better than nothing, right?” Wilbur felt bad but he also wasn’t lying. He would uphold the deal.

The shaking turned to smaller but still noticeable trembles as the little guy let out a shaky sigh. “...Fine. But I get to pass on questions I don’t want to answer.”

Wilbur frowned at that. If he allowed that, he would never get any of his questions answered. “You can pass three times.” Wilbur tried compromising.

“...Fine.” The little guy agreed and Wilbur smiled.

“Awesome! Okay, so what are you?” Wilbur jumped in immediately. The tiny creature glared at him.

“Pass.”

Wilbur felt the little guy tense up in his hand, as if waiting for him to be angry about passing on a question. Wilbur was annoyed, sure, but a deal was a deal and he had a right to not answer it.

“Fine. Then how about…” Wilbur thought for a moment. “What were you doing in my room?”

Silence stretched out between them and for a moment, Wilbur thought the little guy would pass on this question too. But then he hesitantly opened his mouth. “I...I needed a paperclip and figured I might be able to find one in here.”

A paperclip? Wilbur was careful not to say his question out loud, not wanting to waste his second one. Still though, he had to wonder why the little guy needed a paperclip. He thought about it for a little longer. “Do you...do you take things from people often?”

He watched as the tiny face flushed a slight red. “Only things humans like you won’t miss! Otherwise...n-nevermind.” The little guy looked down. “Yeah, I suppose.”

That was interesting. So these little guys were scavengers? He probably took food as well and used things like paper clips to make things for themselves. And he didn’t consider himself human. Interesting.

Wilbur bit his lip when he realized he only had one question left. The little guy seemed to realize this too as he suddenly became impatient, itching to finally get away. “Well? What’s your last question?”

Wilbur frowned. “Hold your horses child, I’m thinking.”

He felt the tiny being tense against his hand again. “Wha-I am not a child!”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. “You literally are.”

He was being glared at now and Wilbur couldn’t help but find the little guy’s anger adorable. “So are you!”

Wilbur waved him off with his free hand. “Eh, details.” He was, in fact, a child but he had a good feeling he was older than the tiny guy by at least a couple of years. As the tiny guy continued to fume, Wilbur thought about what his last question should be. He had to make it count and something that the little guy would hopefully answer.

“What’s your name?” Was what Wilbur decided on and the shock on the little guy’s face was almost comical. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that kind of question and now Wilbur felt kind of bad for waiting so long to ask.

“My name? Really? That’s the final question you’re going with?” The little guy asked and Wilbur hummed, nodding. “Oh. Um...it’s...it’s Tommy.” The little guy, Tommy, spoke his name softly before glaring up at Wilbur. “Now let me go. You asked all your questions.”

He was still scared that Wilbur wouldn’t let him go, if the slight tremble in his words was anything to go by. Wilbur sighed but set Tommy back down on the nightstand. Tommy actually seemed a bit shocked that he was put down at all. “Alright, a deals a deal.” He motioned with his hand that Tommy could go but as Tommy tried to move, Wilbur suddenly stood up. “Oh wait!” The sudden movement and loud noise made Tommy yelp in fear and cower at the sight.

Wilbur winced. “Sorry but hold on!” He walked over to his desk and rummaged through his drawers, making a noise of victory as he found what he was looking for. He turned back towards the nightstand and set down the paperclip near where Tommy was standing. The hand coming as close as it did made Tommy back away but when he noticed what was placed down, his eyes widened.

“You said you came in the room for a paperclip, so…” Wilbur shrugged. “Yeah. Anyway, you can go now. It was nice meeting you.” He paused. “Oh! I’m Wilbur by the way. But yeah, I...I guess I’ll leave now. Give you time to...go wherever.” Wilbur backed up to his door, keeping his eyes on Tommy for as long as he could. He really didn’t want the little guy to leave but he was also a man of his word. Besides, he felt bad for scaring him so much. “Bye.” He said simply before exiting his room, making sure he closed the door behind him.

Wilbur stood in the hallway for a long moment, thinking about everything that had just happened before finally heading downstairs to get something to eat. Ten minutes should be enough time for Tommy to leave, right?

***

Tommy was left up on the dresser, the human gone and the paperclip that had gotten him into this mess in the first place sitting only a few inches away from him. The human, Wilbur, he had...he had actually let Tommy go. And not only that but he had given him what he had needed. Hesitantly, Tommy walked over and picked up the paperclip, looking it over.

...Tommy had to leave. Now. Before Wilbur changed his mind and came back to capture Tommy again. He shivered at the phantom feeling of fingers wrapped around his body. He had felt so helpless in Wilbur’s grip. His entire life had literally been in Wilbur’s hands and Tommy hated it.

Humans had too much power for their own good.

Tommy did his best to shake off the feeling and shoved the paperclip into his bag. He then quickly took the path he had used to get up on the nightstand in the first place to get back down. Jumping over to the bed and using the overspilling blankets to climb down to the carpet below. He ran underneath the bed and back into the safety of the walls.

As soon as he was safe, Tommy found himself sliding down against the wall and to the floor, bringing his knees up to his chest and trying to take deep breaths.

He had been so utterly terrified. He thought for sure he was a goner as soon as his eyes met the human’s. Thought he was a goner when that giant hand wrapped around Tommy’s body like it was nothing, effectively trapping him with no way out. He never wanted to go through something like that again.

He had wanted to get a few more supplies from the house but after what just happened, he didn’t want to go out into the open again. Not in this house. He had enough to get to the next house over and then he could borrow some more. He just hoped the next place had less humans in it.

He’d get some rest and leave first thing in the morning. And he could leave this all behind him, forget it ever happened.

...He hoped he didn’t have any nightmares tonight.

Not feeling up to moving, Tommy decided to stay where he was and pulled out a thin blanket from his bag. He wrapped himself up as best as he could before placing his bag down to use as a pillow. He laid there, trying to ignore the faint sounds of footsteps and voices of beings much bigger than himself.

Eventually, the noises died down and Tommy finally succumbed to sleep.

#dream smp #g/t #Giant/tiny #borrowers #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #borrower!tommy #fic #my fic #chapter 1 #multi-chapter #au #mcyt g/t #dsmp g/t

233 notes · View notes

thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 3 years ago

Note

Can I have headcanons of jack, juliius, magna, william, and zora with a tall tattooed boyfriend with piercings everywhere. He also is a very powerful vampire and is kinda has the powers of Dracula or alucard . He’s strong enough to go against the wizard king and his magic knights all at once but is really lazy and clingy. And also stays in his cute small bat form on top of there heads.

Hello~! ^_^ Of course! I wondered for a moment about where I should direct the focus, but I absolutely adored the idea of being a cute little bat on their heads. So... These might have a lot about that 😅 Anyways, I do hope that you enjoy! Pairing: Jack x m!reader, Julius x m!reader, Magna x m!reader, William x m!reader, Zora x m!reader Fic type: headcanons Genre: fluff

Jack

Jack really doesn’t mind your piercings, actually, if anything, he is inspired by them. So he might take a few piercings himself. Which would be a nice bonding experience in case you’d want to take another one with him.

Jack is energetic, most of the time, so it definitely helps with your desire to hold onto him, that you can turn into a bat. That way you could stay with him at all times, though it’s be an adjustment at first, since while out training Jack moves around a lot, which makes resting on top of his head difficult.

You’d scold him for that. Asking him if he needed to bounce around that much. Because if there was danger, you’d take care of it. So, what if you two would just cuddle?

But Jack would tell you that he wanted to hold his own end of the relationship. So that it wouldn’t all fall onto your shoulders. Plus, he liked slashing through things. Though that wasn’t to say that he didn’t like cuddling you too, but cuddling wasn’t the only thing that he wanted out of life.

You thought about it for a while, and though you didn’t mind being the strong one in the relationship, pulling his own weight and ‘giving something back’, was important to Jack too. Plus, you did like other things than cuddling too, so there was a point there.

So, really it wasn’t a matter of anything else than adjustment. You could use your powers to simply hang onto him by magical means. You were able to walk over walls and ceilings, so it wasn’t that you were pulling his hair all the time.

And during the few times that you were observing his training from the side lines, you couldn’t say that he was uneasy on the eyes… So, there was really nothing to complain about. He loved you, and you loved him. Which was all that mattered.

Julius

Julius would be so curious about your powers. And he would throw every single question in the book at you, along with additional ones on top of that. He’s just be so excited about it all, and would ask you to show him more of your capabilities quite regularly.

But he does value you as a spouse, of course he does, so when he realizes that you’re not in the mood, he’d step back. And you would be his boyfriend, so he doesn’t want to and wouldn’t, treat you like a wonder put on display. He’s simply intrigued by you, and he’s interested in your knowledge and abilities, but he’s interested in you as a person more.

He’d take you on his adventures of… avoiding paperwork, because he’d much rather sneak out with you and explore, than sit in his office with his nose buried in piles and piles of documents. And if you felt too lazy to travel in your human form, he’d be more than happy to have you dangling in his golden locks.

Though of course many would wonder about why there was a bat in his hair, especially those who were less well versed in magic, but you’d work with it. I mean, no matter what you decided to tell them, there’d be no harm done. Because since there was never worry of being threatened, it really was about how many questions you wanted to answer.

And even during the times that Julius was actually sitting in his office, doing work, he’d enjoy feeling your presence right there. Your chest, rising and falling, against him. If you ever sneezed because of his hair tickling your nose, he’d smile to himself. It would be just too adorable.

Magna

Magna would also love your tattoos and piercings, perhaps even get a few of his own just to match with yours. It’d be a bit silly, but in the adorable way. As in, one day he’d sneak away, only to return with a tattoo that was identical with one of yours.

His hair would be really fluffy. Almost like a proper “bat nest” for you to curl up in. At first it might be difficult to settle there, but after some time, his hair would adjust to you being there.

He’d also be amazed by your power, and he’d lowkey feel bad about only having so little power in comparison. He knew very well that you didn’t need protection, but he’d still like to be able to stand up for you and carry his own weight.

He’d sometimes be too stubborn to ask for you help when it came to his duties as magic knight, because he wanted to help keep people safe. And you’d scold him for that, but after he’d give you a long and a hard-to-follow explanation about why he wanted to fight on his own too, you’d kind of understand him.

Which is why you didn’t mind him training, and you were always with him. A couple of times he almost burned himself, and you, in the process. Not that it would’ve actually hurt you, but… had Magna’s attack been aimed at you, he wouldn’t have been lacking in attempting to do so.

But he tried his best. And he was absolutely adorable as he did so. It was something you might never tell him, or then perhaps you would. Only time would tell.

William

William would enjoy spending time with you, just the two of you, as well. Though it might take him a while to get accustomed to being cuddled often. Simply because he hasn’t really experienced affection, especially physical, such as being held, in his life.

It’s not that he’d mind cuddling with you, or having you perched on top of his head, it’s just something that would take time to get used to. Though his mask would slightly help with it during the times he had to step outside of the base, and you’d be there, on his head.

The mask, however, would perhaps feel less personal, and you’d prefer resting on his head with his mask off. But since he wasn’t yet ready to be seen in public without his mask, you’d roll with it, trying to tell him that he shouldn’t care about people’s opinion on his scar. And you’d hope that he would become comfortable enough to go out without it. For his own good as well, and so that you’d be able to get closer to him.

But soon, just being able to feel you there, would bring him a lot of comfort. It would assure him a lot, of the fact that you’d be there, by his side. And his smile, it’d come so easily whenever you were there.

And your power, it’d bring him comfort as well trough not having to worry for your safety. Of course he would worry. He would worry because he cares for you, but it’d bring him comfort to know that you had nothing to worry about.

So, he could better concentrate on loving you, holding you, and getting more and more comfortable with cuddling with you, under the branches of his worldtree, or anywhere really. As long as you’d be together, he’d be happy.

Zora

Zora would enjoy having you resting on top of his head as he spends his late nights in his secret study. He wouldn’t mind cuddles otherwise, but it can be difficult to study while wrapped in an embrace. So, you resting on top of his head, amidst his red, soft hair… It’d be perfect.

But he’d enjoy spending time with you in that solitude of the study, just staring at the stars, or talking about anything really.

He’d ask you about ways to improve too, given how you were powerful, he’d ask questions about mana in the hopes that he could advance his own. You’d answer his questions, but magic in itself wasn’t a passion for you, so your replies would be rather short. Which in itself wasn’t bad. Because having concise answers to questions was most often straight forward and easy to follow.

Zora is laid back too, so his attitude would well work with yours. Though Zora is a bit more of a vigilante since he can’t just overthrow the kingdom if he so wished, but he’s be perfectly fine with just spending his lazy time with you as well.

Plus, having such a strong spouse as you, he’d never need to fear losing you. He wouldn’t have to live through losing another cherished person in his life. It would really sink in during the rare occasions when you’d display your power, but he’d feel such a relief because of it. He wouldn’t wake up one day to find out that you’ve been killed, just like his dad was.

So, he’d be happy to sink into your arms and concentrate on you, and only you.

#black clover jack #jack x reader #julius novachrono #julius x reader #magna swing #magna x reader #william vangeance #william x reader #zora ideale #zora x reader #black clover headcanons

53 notes · View notes

poptod · 4 years ago

Text

The Breeding Kings (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Ahkmen’s new school year starts with a bang.

Notes: guess who has imposter syndrome!!!! heres my next work i think??? idk where my inspiration is gonna pull me at any given time. i just wanna say this takes place when ahk’s pretty young! not like ten or something lmao but lets just say hes not an adult. by the way, the reader is indian (indus valley, at the time). WC: 7.3k

"Don't we look like a dream?"

A sharp inhale brought his eyes to shoot open, staring through the cold air to the blank ceiling above him. For a moment he frowned, as his bed had a silk canopy above it, but he quickly realized he had passed out in his friend's room again. He groaned softly, raising his hand to rub his face.

"What... happened last night?" He grumbled, his voice turning to a whisper when the volume of it left him wincing.

No response.

"Piye?"

Ahkmen raised himself, though very strenuously, and looked over the tables and stools thrown beside him. Splinters nearly dug into his fingertips, but he jerked away before anything could lodge.

Piye was much in the same position. Quite literally, with their limbs strewn about, hair a knotted mess upon their head. The only difference was that Piye was lying face down, their face squished into one of the table legs. He almost laughed, but even the spreading of a smile sparked a headache, so instead he poked his blacked out friend.

They groaned, loudly, but did not move. Ahkmen continued to poke them until they finally had enough, pushing themselves upwards.

"What the hell do you want?" They asked, their voice low and scratchy. Even their eyes had yet to open, stuck shut with crushed eyelashes.

"What did we do last night?" He asked in a mumble, resting his weight on the thin edge of a fallen table.

"You invited Panya and she killed us with beer," Piye breathed out, shielding their eyes from the sun with their hand.

"Fuck," said Ahkmen. "An... what day's today?"

Piye breathed very deeply before opening their mouth, letting out a roar of a yell, "DAD?!? What's today??"

Ahkmen winced away, covering his ears until Piye lay back down, still relaxing into the pile of chairs and tables.

"It is the eleventh of Khuiahk," came Adom's voice from around the corner of the tiny hallway leading to the door of Piye's room. Ahkmen heard a flip of papyrus before he spoke again, "you have school today, if that's what you're wondering."

"Ah... shit," Piye sighed.

"That means I have school too," Ahkmen said with widening eyes, a pitiful sense of dread overcoming his hangover. "I can't learn like this. I haven't showered since yesterday, I – I barely have a hold on my thoughts, I can't stand loud noises –"

"If you can still gripe like that, you're fine," Piye said flatly, lying for a moment more before their eyes opened, making way for them to sit up and stand.

"But –"

"Calm down, my Prince," Piye said with a derisive bow. "It's quite alright. I'll get us ready within the hour."

Having Piye as a friend came in handy a number of times, but especially when it came to maintaining his image of a perfect son. His parents adored him dearly, but Ahkmen was convinced that that status could be stripped at any moment, and that they would begin to treat him as they did his brother, Kamun. Thus having Piye to excuse away his mistakes was beyond helpful to him, let alone the secret capabilities of the palace physician's child.

In a calm-as-ever demeanor, Piye shoved both him and themself into clothes too warm for the sunshine already beating down on them through windows. The Prince felt a little off––a little more disgusted with himself than usual––but his discomfort was quickly remedied with a stop by the Nile, where the two quickly washed themselves.

Returning into clothes was made easy by the sun that dried the water on their skin within a minute of leaving the river. The two dressed, shoving their legs into skirts and golden bands as they walked, stumbling through the streets with soaking wet hair.

"One last stop," Piye said before they reached the center of the city, pulling Ahkmen off down a hidden alley.

Boxes and carts of goods had been stacked as wide as the thin alley, but they were easily climbed, and the two found themselves in an entirely different part of town.

"How quick is this stop going to be? We're already going to be late," Ahkmen said, but continued to follow Piye without fail.

"Wouldn't worry about it," they assured as they directed him into a tent of red and purple drapes.

Smoke welled in the ceiling, already uncomfortably low for Ahkmen, and even worse for Piye. It must've been important, whatever Piye was trying to do, as they were particularly sensitive about their height at times, and tried not to draw attention to it. The only true light inside the tiny shop was the burning incense, and what little sun could make it through the dark fabric that made up the ceiling and walls. When Ahkmen caught the scent, he recognized it easily––myrrh.

"What are we doing here?" Ahk whispered, trying to look over Piye's shoulder as they led the way through continuous halls of silk.

"Yogi?" Piye said, knocking against the first hard surface they could find.

There was a moment of silence before the wall of satin before him rustled, rippling till it split open to reveal you; a small, foreign child about his age, with a bright red dot on your forehead above wide eyes. His heart thumped erratically as you met his gaze. While he couldn't directly place where you were from, the style of your home and lavish clothes as well as your facial features assured him you were not Egyptian.

"Be needing something, Piye?" You said in a thick accent, looking up at the magi who towered above you.

"One of your drinks," they said. You nodded and ducked back into your room.

"We don't need more to drink," Ahkmen whispered.

"It's a hangover cure. You'll be wanting it."

"Oh."

A moment later you returned, two clay cups in hand swirling with a red mixture. Ahkmen looked suspiciously into the liquid, trying to decipher the ingredients, before Piye knocked their whole cup back and swallowed it in a single gulp. Scuffing his sandal against the floor, he copied his friend's movements.

Sweet, but thick. Like dough, but slimy, and the sensation of it slowly sliding down his throat only brought about more questions as to the ingredients.

"You must be one of their friends," you said once they both finished, handing their mugs to you.

"Well, um..." Ahkmen looked up to Piye, "yes. We're on our way to Osiris' temple."

"You are, then... students?"

"Yes. I study language and morals, Anpu here studies law," Piye answered for him, patting Ahkmen's shoulder.

"The bell will start soon. You should go, the priests are not made of give," you said as you set the cups aside, showing them out the door.

Blazing sun burnt the back of his eyes as he stepped outside, back into the radiating heat and the empty street, which lay an alley's walk away from the Temple of Osiris. He squinted, searching for the boxes he'd climbed earlier.

"Over here," Piye directed him, and he followed.

"Where's your friend from? Doesn't sound like –"

"- like Egyptian is their first language," Piye finished. "I've never bothered to ask, but if I had to guess, somewhere in the east. Our friendship is mostly limited to school, and medicine."

"They study medicine?" Ahkmen asked incredulously. If you weren't native to Egypt, and it was painfully obvious you weren't, it would be a feat beyond God to achieve any form of education concerning the human body.

"Not proper medicine, mind you. It's back-alley magic," Piye said, opening the door to the temple and allowing Ahkmen to pass in front of them.

"Quite literally," Ahkmen mumbled beneath his breath, scanning the main temple for any sign of the priests.

"Right."

"And what was with that fake name?"

"I don't think they –"

"I cannot imagine it will be a fantastic impression on your teachers that you are late on your first day of schooling," came a voice from behind them.

Both Ahkmen and Piye whirled around, wide eyes meeting the High Priest of Osiris, an older man named Yafeu that had never been fond of the royal family. Fortunately, he would not be teaching anyone––the High Priest's position was 'too important' to concern itself with the younger generations teachings. Osiris and his temple required constant cleaning, as well as regularly cleaned offerings of jewels and flowers, plates of delicacies that reached the knee of the massive statue sat at the head of the temple.

In fact, that was where Ahkmen stood; before the statue of Osiris. Somewhere he was not supposed to be.

"We're having trouble finding our class," Piye said before Ahkmen could even think of how to reply.

Yafeu raised a single brow, scanning the both of them with an unimpressed expression. He raised his finger to point at a small door behind Osiris.

"That way."

"Thank you, sir," Piye said with a small bow, taking Ahkmen's hand and rushing him out the door.

While the temple of Osiris held much land, and much of it was occupied by caretakers both priestly and humble, who worked to please Osiris, commoners and non-priests were generally not allowed. Gardens bloomed around the sacred lake, lovingly tended to fit the needs of the temple.

As Ahkmen and Piye walked down the long, open hallway, which on the left side held the many rooms of those working in the temple, and on the right displayed the wealth of the courtyard, the Prince wondered upon the subject of the temple. Very few people were allowed inside––hence his apprehension upon being caught––but considering the amount of people it took to care for the temple, it seemed to him a little unfair that others couldn't come to bow at the statue's feet.

Perhaps the priests, and his father, did not want commoners coming to Osiris with petty issues.

"You handled that quite well," Ahkmen said as he noted the arch to class approaching.

"I fucking hate priests," they seethed, but the expression gave way for a smile in an instant when they both entered the room.

Yafeu might've been old, but the priests that retired into teachers were much older. Last year, Ahkmen's teacher had been a much younger scribe, but this year his class of four would be taught by a priest who had spent his better years tending to Sobek's temple, and consequently had lots of experience with crocodiles. That was about the only interesting thing about the man, except for the fact that his name was Setet, which according to Ahk’s classmate meant 'Daughter of Set'.

A very strange name indeed. Ahkmen let the thought of it occupy his thoughts for a minute or two, but grew quickly bored of the subject, and eventually his mind wandered back to the events of the morning. If Setet had the gall to be this uninteresting, Ahkmen could be allowed time to think and gather himself.

Last night, he thought, chewing on his bottom lip. What had happened?

The details were fuzzy in his head––more a mess of mangled half-memories soaked in beer and wine. According to Piye, who now sat cross-legged on the carpet beside him, something had happened with his friend Panya that made both of them drink a lot of beer. A drinking contest, maybe––Ahkmen was, at times, too prideful for his own good.

Panya couldn't really be considered a friend. She was rarely ever kind to him, and he treated her in much the same light. Despite her crude behavior, she was quite beautiful, and attended the same prestigious school as he did––only in a different class.

What is he talking about? he thought to himself blearily, trying to focus back in on the man in front of him talking.

Then there was the question of you––the pretty little potionmaker––and with that thought implanted in his mind, he left the classroom in every way imaginable except physical.

Ahkmen very rarely met anyone from other countries that weren't royal, so the sudden presence of you was something he could think about for a good, long while as he waited out the school day. He thoroughly enjoyed any research into the cultures and activities of citizens in countries his own and not his own.

You came up about to his shoulder––which meant you were only as tall as Piye's elbow––and your skin was of a darker, more vibrantly red color than those of the Egyptians he usually related himself to. The lighting in your tent had been subpar, making it hard for him to recall what color that dot on your forehead had been. All he could remember was that it existed.

The hangover remedy you had concocted had, without Ahkmen entirely noticing, taken away his headache and minimized his sensitivity to light and sound, which convinced the Prince that you had some sort of schooling behind you. Maybe you weren't as poorly as you looked––all respect to you, of course––and, maybe, you were someone of similar noble standing.

He wasn't sure which theory he liked more.

Unfortunately, he couldn't remember your name, and now that class had started he would have to wait until lunch to ask Piye.

When midday finally did come around, he, Piye, and the other two students in his class were excused to the garden. In the center of the courtyard, the High Priest readied himself for the midday ceremony by bathing in the sacred lake placed there by hand. Clerks and jewellers flitted about from place to place, carrying the finished products of beautiful works that would never see the light of day beyond Osiris' temple. Similarly, weavers and barbers tended to Yafeu as he bathed in preparation.

"What was that eastern brewer's name again?" Ahkmen asked, tugging on Piye's skirt as he attempted to catch up with their long strides.

"The one from the alley? Yogi," they said with a curious tilt of their head. "Why?"

"Oh, I've been thinking about it all morning. I couldn't remember but I know you called them by name."

"Right. Hungry?" Piye asked, stopping before the door to the kitchens.

"I want to find Panya first," Ahk said as he scanned the courtyard.

"Well I want to eat. If you want to try and wade through that crowd for a woman who hates you, go ahead," Piye said, waving him off before promptly slamming the door behind them as they left.

"... right," Ahkmen muttered to himself under his breath.

There were far too many people going about the temple that, standing from his position, it was impossible to see everyone. One thing he did know about Panya, though; she always brought her own food and always sat alone.

Ten minutes later Ahkmen found himself yelling up into a tree that Panya had managed to scale.

"Get lost, goldie!" She yelled from above, picking one of the dates and lobbing it at his head. He dodged, eyes darting down at the ground, where the date had made a dent in the dirt.

"Come on, I just have a question!" He said, squinting from the sun shining directly above him.

"The answer's no. Now go away! You're going to attract one of the priests with all that yelling," she said, cocking her chin into the sky.

"Oh, fuck you," he muttered as he at last looked down, his neck sore from craning it so long. So much for figuring out last night.

As he made his way back to the kitchens, he crossed the middle of the courtyard and spied through the pillars of stone the open door of the inner temple. Inside grew an ethereal blue light, surrounding the figures of stone, warped with smoke as Yafeu knelt to his knees before Osiris. His mouth moved in constant prayer, but Ahkmen could not hear from his distance. He could only watch.

Until one of the clerks shut the door.

He frowned, but headed on his way, soon sliding in next to his friend, Piye. They had taken a seat on one of the many carpets set out on the floor, the open roof allowing sunlight to flood the otherwise dark room. All that protected the students and chefs from the heat of the sun, as well as the heat of the ovens, was the thin tarps covering the majority of the ceiling, though not entirely. There was still room for a couple rays of unbroken sun.

"Find her?" Piye asked through a mouthful of food.

"Yes, but she wouldn't talk to me," Ahk said, irritant in his movements as he began to eat his own lunch.

"Sounds like her."

By the end of school, the sun was already cresting the horizon of low mountains, leading his shadow to tall heights as he walked with Piye, their backs to the sun. Inside the courtyard of the temple, servants and workers planted seeds in the black mud gathered from the Nile's banks. Outside it, however, bustled the busy life of Memphis markets that always received the most amount of patrons after school and work was finished for the day.

Wading through the crowd had always been more of an art than anything, though Ahkmen couldn't practice that art very well with Piye beside him. They stuck out horribly, too tall to duck beneath the swaying barrels and baskets, and unable to pass people by without seeming rude.

"Oh shit!" Ahkmen exclaimed in a moment of remembrance, raising his hand to stop Piye. "I remember why Panya came over."

"Really?" They pulled both of them to the side, pressed against a restaurant wall. "What was it?"

"Drinking contest. Remember last Friday? We had that bet and then I lost, and I had to give her one of my necklaces, but I couldn't part with any of mine, so I just stole my mother's. Then my mother started asking questions, and... oh fuck. Mother's going to kill me," Ahk said with wide eyes, raising his hands to cover his mouth.

"I would love to help you out with this problem, but she's really not going to do anything, and I need to help my father collect ingredients from the market. Is that alright?"

"Yes, I... I understand. Any advice though?"

"Go find Yogi. They might be able to help. See you," they said as they turned and left, all but their shoulders and head disappearing in the crowd.

Ahkmen had little on his persons except the clothes he wore, and the bands he had on his arms marked him as royal. They could not be sold, bartered, or traded in any way, as any non-royal found wearing them was jailed or enslaved. He could not give them to Panya in exchange. Panya might've been annoying, but she didn't deserve something like that.

Since that was the only idea he had, he found himself sneaking back towards Osiris' temple, and going through the streets leading to it in hopes of finding that alleyway once more. It was less of an alley and more of a space between two close buildings, but that distinction easily led him back to climbing over boxes of storage.

In the warm blush of evening, it was hard to make out the different alleys leading to this singular space between buildings, where nothing had been built except that tent of yours. It appeared as though you had blocked it off purposely––made your home secret for a reason.

Questions swarmed his head as he ducked beneath the flap of your home, watching his head for anything hanging too low. He raised his hand, searching for a hard surface––something to rapp his knuckles on, as Piye had.

"Uh... Yoshi?"

"My name is not that. Do not call me that," you said, walking out from behind what Ahkmen thought was a wall. He nearly jumped at your sudden appearance.

"Sorry. I was, um, here this morning, with my friend Piye? They said you might be able to help me," he said in a rambling manner, playing with his fingers.

"What help you need?"

"I had a bet with this girl from my school, and she ended up with my mother's necklace, and I need that necklace. My mother was asking me about it earlier, so I know she's noticed."

"Hmm..." you glanced to the side, placing your hands on your hips. "What was.. your bet on?"

"Drinking contest."

"Ah," you said with a sudden smile. "No problem. You find your girl, bring her here. I will give her my beer."

"You brew beer?" Ahkmen asked incredulously, his eyes widening. Beer-making was something generally reserved for adults.

"I do many things. Do not worry. She will not die," you said, shaking your head as though that would assure him.

"Why would she die?!" Ahkmen asked with even larger eyes.

"I just tell you she will not die! Now go grab her. I will be here with your cups. Tell her you want to do it again," you said, pushing him out the door. He was not at all swayed by your efforts, but allowed you to move him anyway, and soon he stood outside in an evening where the sun had set too fast.

A chill ran over his skin, at which point he acutely missed the warmth of your tent. How you kept it so comfortable, as well as clean in there was a mystery, but that was not at the forefront of his thoughts. Instead he tried to recall where Panya might be––perhaps at school, perhaps at home, or maybe with her friend. She only had one.

After clambering back over the wall of boxes and crates, he snuck back into the courtyard of the temple, keeping a careful eye on any movement he saw. The task proved hard after about five seconds of being in there, as the next ceremony was soon approaching. The Priests would put Osiris to rest for the night.

In several of the rooms he passed, he found other children of noble bearings discussing quietly with the older priests and clerks, who passed the time of their elderly years raising the next generation. He checked each door, but in the end he found Panya on the edge of one of the creeks that ran like veins with the lifeblood of the Nile.

"Can we talk now?" He asked, taking great enjoyment in her surprise as she turned.

"I'd prefer we didn't," she said, turning back to look at the river.

"If I recall correctly," which he did not, "I won last night's contest, right? That puts us at a tie."

"You big liar," said Panya, who also did not recall the events of last night. "I quite distinctly remember rubbing your face in my win."

"Come now, all I'm offering is one more drinking contest. You get to get drunk for free. If you win, I... I'll owe you one favor. One thing you ask of me, I'll do, no questions asked. If I win, I get that necklace back."

"You're vain sometimes, you know that?" She said in a quieter voice as he stood to face her, watching her fingers play with the massive emerald that now dangled from her shoulders.

"So are you."

She raised an unimpressed brow, scanning the Prince before she sighed, closing her eyes.

"Very well. Is Piye going to be overlooking it again?"

"No, no," Ahk said with a dismissive hand, dropping his other to grab Panya's hand and direct her along. "They're busy tonight. I've got someone else on board."

It took a little convincing to get the noble girl to climb up and over the boxes for a secret part of the city, but he eventually won her over and directed her inside your tent. She was about your height––maybe a little taller––and had no problems standing in your low-roof home. Ahkmen on the other hand took a seat as soon as he could.

You introduced yourself with a small bow, bringing forward a low table with a long strip of embroidered cloth, upon which you placed four small cups built of what appeared to be clay. All of this you did in a smooth, practiced swoop that lasted only a moment before Ahkmen was forced to face Panya once more.

Ahkmen might've been a desperate man––in more than one sense of the word––but he would not resort to cheating by stealing. Not to good people. Thus he would keep his word concerning the prizes of the competition, no matter how certain he was that he would fail.

He was a prince, accustomed to constant fine wines and thick beer that smelled strongly of alcohol. A sipper in small amounts.

Panya was not. She had quite a lot of money like his family, but she was far more connected with the world of other teenagers than Ahkmen was.

"I like you to state what you will win if you... win," you said, standing beside the table Ahk and Panya sat at. "That way, it is honest."

"If Panya wins, she can tell me to do one thing that I must do without question. If I win, I get that necklace back," Ahk said as he pointed to each of the things he referred to.

"Okay. Let us begin!"

Four cups. Two on either side of the centerpiece of the table. Ahkmen reached forward at the same time as Panya, grabbing the cups from the right and downing both of them quick as he could. The less he thought about it, the better. Panya soon copied him, finishing much faster than he had, and slamming the cups down so hard he nearly jumped.

"Good start," you said with a nod. "Feel good?"

"I feel about myself," Ahk offered.

"Then you have not drinking enough." You brought out another four cups in a flash. "Try not to let any of it fall!"

It burned his throat––physically burnt it from the alcohol level. No beer or wine had ever done that before, and he nearly spit it out, but managed to swallow it and hide his teary eyes at the same time. He then watched Panya carefully for any reaction, and noted the same surprise in her expression.

"Is a bit stronger. That is how my game works. By your six rounds, it only takes a cup to get a little," you grinned and rolled your eyes in two different directions. Ahk raised his brows, unable to look away, but said nothing.

"God damn," Panya said after downing the second cup of her's on the table. "Where do you get this stuff?"

"I make it. It is levels of dizziness."

"Do you mean drunkenness?" Ahkmen asked, looking apprehensively down into his second cup.

"Whatever. It is family's secret. I sell it to markets, get a good price, people like becoming drunk," you said with a shrug, taking the old cups, and refilling them with yet another mixture.

"Come now, Ahk," Panya chuckled from across the table. "Gotta finish that second cup if you're gonna challenge me to this kind of a competition."

Ahkmen glared at her for a moment before raising his cup to his lips, knocking it back as he attempted to once again ignore every sensation happening in his throat.

"Good boy," you said, taking his cup and setting it on the shelf behind you.

Four more cups were then placed on the table, and the drinking continued.

By the fifth round, he was already inebriated, his tongue soaked in the numbing powers of this drink you had concocted. There was a part of his not-all-there brain that thought you had taken this drink from the underworld; some sort of backwards world where the Nile flowed with pure alcohol.

If you were telling the truth, and he quite well trusted your word this far, he could be dizzyingly intoxicated with your next drink. He barely had the state of mind to look at Panya, much less decode her own level of drunkenness. That left him blind to the status of his likelihood of winning. And yet, when the next cup was set down in front of him, he gulped it like a sober brewer. Panya did the same.

"Feeling a little of it now?" You asked with a grin.

"Some... something dike lat," he mumbled, his mouth smushed against the hand he supported his head on.

"Do you one finish?"

"... what?" Panya asked, her brow furrowed as she stared intensely at you.

"Do one of you give up?" You tried.

"Hell no," Panya said with an adamant shake of her head. "Get me another!"

"Me too!" Ahk said, raising his hand high as his head fell to the table, knocking against it with a loud thunk. He hissed, curling back on himself with little grace.

Panya snorted, leading into a long laugh as she cherished the look of drunken disdain painted over the Prince's face. You said nothing, but went to fulfill their requests, returning with the same drink as the last one.

"This my strongest drink. What you had before. It is good for you!"

"It may be good for me, but I think my friend over there is going to pass out," Panya said, grabbing you by your collar and forcing you to lean down so she could talk closer to your ear. You giggled.

"You have big strength," you said, stepping away as she downed yet another drink.

"Thank you, uh.. what's... your name?"

"... it is Yogi."

"Well then, Yogi. Another!"

If you had some sort of secret plan to get him to win, he was desperate to see it. This drink of yours had only seemed to be detrimental to him, not to Panya, and anxiousness stewed as he glanced into his cup. She was already ahead of him––to equalize the cards, he had to drink another cup, just to be equal.

You reentered the room as he knocked it back, carrying two more cups. When he set his cup down, you placed the others in front of him, and grabbed the empty one to clean it.

Ahkmen looked up, and through the haze of his thoughts, he might've seen you wink at him with a sly smile. Maybe. It was also possible you had just blinked and his eyes were being slow.

He grabbed his cup, and before he could think about it he chugged it. In a horrifying moment of clarity, he recognized the drink he'd had that morning––some sort of hangover cure that felt like smooth, squishy mud in his mouth. You returned a minute or two later, more drinks in hand. By then your mixture took effect, and much of his wooziness faded away, bringing him back to the land of sobriety before being offered his next cup.

It was all he needed.

Panya went on for a good long while, but without the special concoction she lost by the tenth round. During that time, Ahkmen had plenty enough beer, and had returned to the spinning thoughts of his alcohol-fueled brain, now focused on the one who had helped him so readily––you.

"What are – are you gonna do with... her?" Ahkmen asked through a half-stuffed nose, gesturing weakly to Panya, who had passed out in the corner only moments earlier.

"Do you know her parents?"

"... sort of," he answered vaguely. He definitely knew about them. Her father was Yafeu, and though he did not like Ahkmen, Ahkmen had a fair amount of information about him.

"Will they... scared, about her going.. missing?" You said, slowly piecing together a sentence you had clearly never said in Egyptian.

"You mean does she have to be home tonight?"

You nodded.

"She'll be fine. Her father will... worry, a little, but she can say she was sleeping in a friend's house. They won't.. uh... worry," he said in a mumble, laying his head to rest on your table.

"Then we put her to sleep. Let her rest for a while," you said, bowing your head as you collected the rest of the cups, disappearing behind yet another wall.

He tapped his fingers against the wood, keeping them close to his eyes so as to see his hand better. A long sigh left him.

"Will you go home? Or stay?" You asked upon your return.

"I – I have a lot of answers for you," he said, suddenly quite vindictive and stern as he pointed to you with a shaky finger. "And I want you.. to question..."

He trailed off as he realized his mistake. Embarrassment was clear on his face as he shriveled into himself, but you just giggled, sitting down across from him with a large bag in your lap.

"What is your questions?"

"What's your name? Your full name. You don't... seem happy when.. people say Yogi," he said, resting the majority of his weight on the pillows built up against one of the rare solid walls.

"Well, I come from a long travel. My name is not something many know here," you said with a shrug, digging your hands into the bag and rooting around it. "It is Yogasundari."

"Y.. yogetsury?" He tried on his clumsy tongue.

"Yogasundari. It is okay you can not say it. It is why most call me Yogi."

"So – where do you come from then? If y-you come from," he pushed down a hiccup, "from far away?"

"The east. My city was named Harappa. We live in a beautiful river, like you," you said, smiling a soft, thoughtful smile as you recalled images of your past. "Our city was great. Had all things. But my family is poor and it is easy to live here. We can make our own great.. um..."

"Riches?"

"Yes! Gold, and – and silk, you have, but we change the shape of iron," you said, your grin spreading into excitement. "We have good drinks. You want them here, so we come here, and we live much better than we live in Harappa."

"So you're... here with your family?" He asked in genuine curiosity, looking up at you from his collapsed position on the floor.

Your expression fell away, and an anxiousness overtook your demeanor.

"I was," you said, then frowned with spiteful eyes. "Those kings of yours kill my family, sell them. I love this, the river, but your kings are unjust. They take my parents and I never saw them again."

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"It is okay. It is not your fault. I have a good home and I know how to stay away from soldiers. They go everywhere in this city. Not like my home. So that is why I am here," you said, gesturing to the patterned cloths that made up your ceiling.

"And it's just you here?"

"There is the cat," you said, looking back down to his chest, where unbeknownst to him, a thin, hairless cat had made a bed.

"Oh," he whispered softly, taken aback.

The purring was nice––actually, most of the cat's presence was nice, except when he went to pet it, and it raised its' head. At that point he saw the gaping holes where eyes were supposed to be, where they probably once were, and he just about jumped out of his skin, and would have if its' claws weren't kneading at his stomach.

"What the fuck," he whispered in a tense breath.

"She is good. Very kind. You do not worry."

"Where'd you find her?" He asked, eyes darting between you and the cat.

"On the street," you said, nodding. "She comes in for eating at some times."

"... delightful."

"What of you?" You asked. "What are you from?"

"I..." he paused, recalling your contempt for the royal family, and then the much earlier occurrence of Piye using a cover name. "... my father's a priest at Osiris' temple. Not the High one, but.. one of them. That's why I go to school there, and that's how I met Panya."

"Are you good friends?"

"Not really," he chuckled. "We have our fights but I respect her, most of the time."

"More with Piye, then?"

"Mm... yeah. How'd you meet them?"

"You have to ask them. They came in my home one day and asked for my brew."

"Which one?"

"The good one," you said with a wink that had Ahkmen snorting. "I have forgot to ask your name. Your friends name you two things."

What had Piye called him that morning? Panya had used Ahk, that he knew definitively.

"Ak'anpu," he answered after a moment's thoughts.

"It is a nice name," you said, bringing your lips to a glass contraption. With one flame on the other end, you breathed in deeply, exhaling thick clouds of smoke that easily outweighed the smoke of incense already flooding the ceiling.

"What is that?" Ahk asked with a groan as he brought himself to sit up, forcing your cat to jump off his middle.

"Shemet. I get it at the markets, by the river. It is good to sleep and calm down. Want to try?" You offered the tool to him.

"Sure," he said, though he was fairly certain he'd already had this before, and that you were simply pronouncing the name strangely.

From the taste alone he recognized it as something he and Piye had used extensively at some points. It didn't pair well with beer, which he knew from experience, so he took only one more puff before handing it back to you with a quiet 'thank you'.

"I must get home to my father, he's –" he tried to stand, falling back down when he tripped over his own feet. "He's gonna want to see me in the morning."

"You are a little... drunk to be seeing a father yet," you said, a grin tugging at your lips.

"That you are most certainly 'bight'," he said as he, again, attempted to stand.

When he nearly caught his head in one of your hanging scarves, you jumped to your feet, grabbing his arm and pulling his whole body back before he ran into it. He stumbled backwards, spinning around just in time to catch himself on the wall with you in front of him.

"Oh..." he stuttered, a warmer blush filling his head as he looked down at you. "I'm.. sorry."

But you just laughed, much harder than the times you had before, till a dark flush built in your creased cheeks, stark against your bright eyes.

"You are funny. It is alright," you said, patting his bare chest. "I don't think I trust you will get home safe."

"Is this because I'm drunk?" He asked in a teasing tone, leaning in closer with his own cocky smile. For a moment he worried your hand on his chest would feel the thundering of his heartbeat.

"It is because you are stupid," you said, ducking out from his grip and pulling the necklace from Panya's neck, handing it to him.

You took his hand in yours, carefully leading him out of your home without wrecking any of it. The ascent over the crates was a little more clumsy than usual, but in the end you both landed safe back in the regular streets of Memphis, the temple of Osiris to your right and the palace to your left.

"Which way is your home?" You asked, looking up at him after you confirmed it to be a vacant street.

"Easy there," he said as he raised his hands defensively. "I'm – can't go home this.. like this. I'm gonna go down to the Nile, and... I'm going to wash up."

"They say not to go by yourself," you said, following him when he turned to the right. "Dangerous animals."

"More guidelines than rules, really," he said as he shambled along. "And I have you now, d–don't I?"

"If fish eat your ass, I am not saving you," you said with a certainty.

Ahkmen spluttered into a laugh.

"What?" You asked, your own smile growing as you watched him, confused.

"Don't – don't ever say that again. Don't talk about anything eating ass," he said through a massive grin.

Once the two of you reached the river, which didn't take long at all, Ahkmen stripped himself of his garments, setting aside his jewelry in a neat row on the banks. His mother's necklace he set on his clothes, making sure not to dirty it in any way.

"It is funny how you Egyptians do this," you said, perching on one of the boulders present.

"Do what?" He asked, looking over his bare shoulder. Your eyes darted up from staring at something lower.

"Wash in the river."

"Not everyone does," he said, kneeling in the water. "A lot have small pools in their homes. Mostly the rich, I guess. Everyone else just bathes here."

"Maybe I am just... not knowing much about being without many clothes," you attempted to translate, the words clearly spinning in your head. You looked to him to see if he understood you.

"That I can see," he said, bringing the water over his legs and chest, trailing up to his face. "You've got quite a style. Very.. colorful. It looks expensive."

"I make my own clothes," you said with a small, but proud smile.

"You're a seamster?"

"I am many things."

"So I've seen," he chuckled. "How do you know so many things?"

"I had to learn. I had to teach me, from what I could see my family doing," you said, your feet wagging back and forth from the boulder's height. "I get not many people who.. who buy. But I have many things. I think it helps."

"Impressive," he said softly as he returned to washing himself.

By dunking his whole head into the cool water, he hoped to return more of his senses to himself, and with it his more prolific words. He didn't need drunken sentences messing up your understanding of him further. Besides, it was hard enough on its' own to try and piece together your own sentences that were jargled and brambled words of what you'd picked up in Memphis.

"Are you ready to go?" You asked after having fidgeted for several minutes, now letting your head hang upside-down off the rock.

"I suppose so," he said, rising to his feet. "I think I can probably bathe more once I get home. And if not, the morning will come, and I can wash then."

As spiritual an experience as it was to bathe in the lifeblood of Egypt, Ahkmen couldn't deny he missed the lavender soaps and gentle oils massaged and soaked into the skin.

He stumbled his way back to shore, slipping easily on the slick mud beneath him, making up the fertile silt of the Nile. You laughed from your vantage point, knocking your head back with the loudest belt of a laugh he'd ever heard. It was made especially amusing by the fact that such noise could come from someone so small. By the third time he slipped, though, you spared a little pity and climbed down from your tower to help him.

"You are funny," you said with the brightest grin he'd seen, offering him your hand with a long reach in an attempt to keep your shoes clean. Unlike Ahk's, they were made of a sort of fabric.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his legs shaky from his laughter and yours. "This doesn't usually happen."

He reached forward, setting his hand into yours, and allowing you to direct him forward. To your unfortunate surprise––though, still, very amused surprise––his weight ended up pulling both of you down, slipping into the shallow reaches of the river.

"Oh Gods," he said as he resurfaced. "I am so sorry, I -"

Your clothes, and you, were then soaked in both water and mud that easily stained to the palms of your hands as you hauled your heavy clothes out of the river. Wide eyes looked to him, your mouth open in surprise. He cringed backwards, a horribly apologetic look on his face as he watched you stand, shaking your body to test your new weight.

Glancing around your legs, midsection, and arms, you found mud dug into your elbows, your knees, around your hips, and all across your shoulders.

You laughed. Relief flooded him upon the sight of your smile, covering your mouth with a dirty hand.

"Don't we look like a dream?" You giggled.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

79 notes · View notes

lesdemonium · 4 years ago

Text

romtober day 1: fake dating

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 2421 Summary: Jaskier is invited to his parent's annual banquet, and to keep the nobles (and his parents) off his back, he asks Geralt to pose as his husband. Geralt completes this task a little too well.

read on ao3

The banquet was the picture of opulence. Not a single expense was spared, and Jaskier could read the envy in the partygoers eyes as he passed them. His mother really had outdone herself this time; even Jaskier had to admit he was impressed. It was difficult for him to admit that, considering his family was as close to the heart--and hurt feelings--as they were.

Even the music was amazing. Now that took some effort to admit to. It would have been better, of course, if he’d had the opportunity to play for the banquet, but Jaskier knew that was a far-fetched idea at best. His mother and father still liked to tell the other “respectable” company that he was off studying, taking his time and exploring the world, before he came back to accept his title and lands. Truly, it was giving him a good head on his shoulders, allowing him to be worldly and lead the people of Lettenhove with grace and wisdom. It helped that they only referred to their wayward son as Julian; even in these circles, Jaskier was proud to say his stage name carried.

Despite the beauty, despite the fine wine and food, despite the beautiful lords and ladies around him, Jaskier was having a terrible night. It was his own fault, he knew. When he had received his invitation--really a summons, as Jaskier knew he had little choice but to accept--he had panicked. Another event in which his parents tried to court him into staying and taking over as Count, and tried to get him to court a lady or two of agreeable upbringing. Jaskier couldn’t stomach the dread. So he had asked Geralt for a favor.

Geralt was delivering.

“Darling,” Geralt started, drawing Jaskier’s attention back to the task at hand--a conversation with the Duke of some township or other. The hand Geralt had on the small of Jaskier’s back sent shocks of heat through Jaskier’s body, every time it moved ever-so-slightly. “There was a vineyard in Dorian, wasn’t there? The one where the owner gave you five bottles?”

That was an interesting retelling. Much more polite than saying that Jaskier stole the bottles after the owner had insulted Witchers and tried to cheat Geralt out of his pay for dispatching a pack of drowners tainting the water supply. Jaskier was learning a lot about just how talented Geralt could be at traversing a crowd of nobles--when he wanted to.

“Ah, there’s some controversy over that. Technically, when the borders changed, that vineyard moved to Maribor. Ask any of the workers, though, and it’s still in Dorian,” Jaskier answered, just barely remembering to add a smile at the end.

The duke guffawed and wagged his finger at Geralt; apparently Jaskier had managed to settle something for them, but Jaskier hadn’t been listening to the rest of the conversation. He wasn’t listening now, even, as Geralt continued on with the Duke as if this was something he just did on a regular basis.

Geralt was baffling. Jaskier had expected him to say no to Jaskier’s favor. Why would he want to pretend to be Jaskier’s husband at the party Jaskier’s parents threw every year? Even Jaskier didn’t want to go, which might have been partly why he even asked Geralt in the first place. Part of him was holding out hope that Geralt would give him an out.

Instead, Geralt had not only agreed, but had listened to every bit of advice and every pointer Jaskier had given him. All night he had been impressive--he had even managed to charm Jaskier’s mother. Jaskier did not often find himself at a loss for words, but apparently watching Geralt entertain a noble with stories of monster slaying with an unfortunately well-behaved hand on the small of Jaskier’s back was enough to render Jaskier speechless for hours. He had been the disappointing one all night.

“Excuse me,” Jaskier said, bowing a little as he shrugged himself out of Geralt’s grasp. It was rude, Jaskier knew, and if Geralt had done it he would have… well, he would have expected it, and maybe would have silently thanked him for the out, while outwardly complaining about his lack of decorum. But Geralt had been the picture of grace all night. Jaskier was the one that had been disheveled and thrown off guard and, at times, downright rude.

Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment, however. Let the nobles talk. He knew they all would as soon as they left no matter what happened tonight, so Jaskier might as well underperform rather than living up to the lies his parents were no doubt telling the other people of the court.

The night air was crisp and cool against his face as Jaskier pushed the doors open onto the balcony. Technically, this area was off limits. No guest was allowed here and the servants had gone to great lengths to make sure that no one made it out here. But what were they to do when the Viscount of Lettenhove was the one trying to escape to his parent’s balcony?

Finally, Jaskier felt as if he could breathe. It should have been a relief to have Geralt so willing and helpful, and really he had been completely wonderful all night. Far better than Jaskier would have ever expected. And yet, he was so thrown off and upset by it. It would have been so easy to just lean into this, to accept Geralt’s exemplary behavior and pretend, just for a night, that Geralt regularly called him things like “darling” and “love.” That Geralt kept a hand on him at all times. That Geralt checked up on him when Jaskier left abruptly. As he did now.

“I must ask you to return--” a servant started, but Jaskier cut her off.

“It’s alright, Orla. He’s my husband,” Jaskier said, and even he winced at how bitter his voice sounded. He didn’t turn to see if anyone else noticed, though. Instead, Jaskier leaned against the railing, his forearms resting on the cold stone as he stared out over the grounds.

He heard rustling behind him and a door closing, but it was still a moment longer before Geralt joined him against the stone wall. There was still a space between them and Geralt, bless him, seemed almost hesitant to step closer.

“What’s wrong?” Geralt asked, finally leaning against the stone beside Jaskier.

Jaskier huffed an extremely forced laugh. “Wrong? What could be wrong? You’ve only been perfect all night. Everyone loves you. Even my mother, who could find fault in a saint.”

“And… that’s a problem?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier could almost picture the way his eyebrows must have been knitted in confusion.

Jaskier sighed, then buried his face in his hands. “No, darling, of course not. You’re doing exactly what I asked. You’ve made a wonderful impression and have made everything far easier for me.”

Geralt stood silent beside Jaskier, probably trying to decipher what, exactly, Jaskier was going on about. Jaskier wished he could do more to help, but Jaskier was just as flummoxed. This should have been perfect; a night Jaskier would tease Geralt about for years to come. Jaskier should have been preening under the attention and prideful over how much the other partygoers enjoyed Geralt. Instead, he felt empty and cold and as if he was missing something.

“You don’t seem like you in there,” Jaskier finally settled on.

The truth was far too big for him to speak just yet, so he settled for a half truth. The man inside wasn’t the Geralt Jaskier knew and loved, and neither the man inside nor the man outside was a Geralt that belonged to Jaskier.

“I thought you didn’t want me to be me. I thought you wanted me to be your husband,” Geralt said, and his voice was just a touch too serious for his teasing to be believable.

Jaskier straightened up and met Geralt’s eye, finally. Geralt looked lost, like a little boy who was just trying so desperately to be good, and coming up short. Or, perhaps Jaskier was projecting, since that was the way he often felt, especially when he was in Lettenhove. Geralt had a hand on the stone wall, and Jaskier covered it with his own.

“I always want you to be you. I’m sorry I made it seem as if I would ever want someone else,” Jaskier mumbled. He took a moment to stare at their hands, before finding Geralt’s eyes again. “This is all just a bit… much.”

Geralt hesitated a moment, then took a step forward. His hand turned beneath Jaskier’s and he took Jaskier’s fingers, his thumb running absently over Jaskier’s knuckles. Jaskier waited, but Geralt didn’t say anything, and Jaskier found he wasn’t surprised. The silence hung between them as they both waited for Jaskier--of course it would be Jaskier--to break it.

“I don’t think I knew what I was asking for when I asked you to do this,” Jaskier whispered, and he took a step closer to Geralt. The tips of their shoes just barely brushed together and if Jaskier wanted to, it would only take a quick sway to bring their lips together. “I don’t think I asked for the right thing.”

Geralt hummed. “What would you ask for now?”

“For you to accompany me. As yourself. Rather than as a puppet or novelty for the court,” Jaskier started. He wanted to say more, opened his mouth again to do so, but the words died in his throat.

Geralt’s eyebrow raised. “I doubt your mother would approve of me as I am for your husband. Didn’t you want to avoid her appeals to court suitable ladies?”

Jaskier looked away. Back over at the gardens. Geralt’s fingers tightened around his, as if Geralt was afraid Jaskier would pull away. This felt different than the hand at Jaskier’s back, but had Jaskier’s heart beating faster nonetheless. “I shouldn’t have had you pose as my husband at all.”

There was a long silence, and it wasn’t until Geralt tapped Jaskier’s hand with his thumb that Jaskier realized Geralt was waiting for Jaskier to continue. To explain. Jaskier sighed.

“You’ve been amazing in there. I didn’t expect you to… be so wonderfully physically affectionate, or use pet names, or talk me up and be otherwise… casually affectionate. Truly, you are a master at your craft, and if this whole witchering business goes to the wayside, you should consider a future on the stage.” Jaskier huffed and bit the inside of his cheek. He would keep himself together. “It’s easy to believe it’s all real. You play the part so well. There’s not a single person in there that doesn’t believe us as a couple, and sometimes even I forget.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said. His voice was low, firm. Get to the point, Jaskier heard.

“I don’t want to spend a night pretending. I don’t want to enjoy myself too much, only to wake up to reality come morning.” He pulled his hand back from Geralt’s grasp and swiped it over his face. “I’m sorry, I thought I had a better handle on myself than this. I thought I could separate reality from fiction, but apparently I have fooled myself too thoroughly.”

The embarrassment rose through his body to paint his cheeks a vibrant, hot shade of red, and Jaskier could not bring himself to look at Geralt again as he turned toward the doorway.

“We should go back inside. I’ll get it together, and we can continue on as if--”

“We could start smaller,” Geralt interrupted, taking Jaskier’s hand again and using it as leverage to pull him back. Jaskier allowed himself to be pulled, and faced Geralt again, his eyebrows furrowed in his confusion. “Make reality. Different.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier started. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried, very carefully, to find the words he was looking for. Nothing sounded right. “You’re not proposing--”

“I’m proposing we change tomorrow, rather than tonight,” Geralt answered. He took a step closer to Jaskier, his free hand cupping Jaskier’s hip. “Build up to tonight.”

Geralt dropped Jaskier’s hand in favor of trailing his fingertips along Jaskier’s cheekbones, his jawline, his lips. Jaskier found himself breathless, almost dizzy, and he closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that this was real. It seemed far more likely that he had managed to stumble, hit his head on one of the many heavy, solid, and jagged rocks, and was now having a very imaginative, blunt-force-trauma-induced dream.

“Geralt, I’m afraid I might have been struck with delirium. It feels rather like if I asked you to kiss me, you would,” Jaskier whispered. Surely his imagination wasn’t good enough to create the feeling of Geralt’s thumb shifting as Jaskier’s lips moved. Jaskier may have to come to the conclusion that this was real.

“Why don’t you try it, bard?”

Jaskier let out the breath he had been holding, and rested his hands on Geralt’s hips. He opened his eyes again to find Geralt staring at him with probably the softed, most fond smile Jaskier had ever seen on his face. It was that smile, that barely-there tick of the corners of his lips that gave Jaskier his courage. Jaskier smiled back, just as small and soft, and Geralt stopped tracing Jaskier’s lips and held his face instead.

“Please kiss me,” Jaskier breathed.

The words were barely out of Jaskier’s mouth before they were swallowed into Geralt’s. Jaskier’s arms wove themselves around Geralt’s back, pulling him closer, and Geralt’s hand crept up Jaskier’s back as well. Geralt still held his face, cradling Jaskier’s cheek carefully, no matter how they moved together.

The air was just as cool as it had been when Jaskier stepped outside, but now Jaskier found himself warmed by the heat of Geralt’s lips. He put every ounce of longing into the kiss, and was almost surprised to find just as much wanting in Geralt. They had wasted time, so much time, but Jaskier was already quite fond of their methods for making up for that.

Finally, they had to part. Neither strayed far, though. Their foreheads pressed together, their breaths intertwined as Jaskier’s heart settled. Geralt’s thumb stroked Jaskier’s cheek, and Jaskier could hardly hear the din of the banquet hall over his own disjointed, trailing, endlessly giddy thoughts.

“If I ask you again tomorrow, will your answer be the same?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt hummed. “And every day after that,” he answered.

#my writing #octoberfest #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier fanfic #i'm so bad at tagging things #put me out of my misery and just read this fluff #lmao #romtober

387 notes · View notes

dustofbrokenheart · 4 years ago

Text

The Covenant: A Mess

Poly! Sons of Ipswich x Reader

Word Count: 2,497

Warnings: Slightly angsty

Summary: Reader has been struggling with magic and feels miserable. Caleb and Pogue try their best to be loving and supportive. Requested by / in collaboration with @dhampiravidi

Caleb trudged inside the apartment, the beginnings of a headache building behind his eyes. Taking his gray coat off, he followed the smell of spices into the kitchen. Chili, if Caleb had to guess.

Pogue must’ve had dinner duty for the night. He made the best chili out of the three of them so they only ever ate it if he was the one making it. Sure enough, he was standing in front of the counter, his hair pulled back into a half ponytail, adjusting a setting on the slower cooker that was plugged into the wall.

“Chili?” Caleb asked, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“Chili,” Pogue confirmed. He turned towards Caleb, frowning when he saw Caleb massaging small circles above his eyes. “Another headache?”

Caleb sighed, lowering his hand. “Just a little one. They assigned me to that new case on Tuesday and I’ve been pouring over old court dockets ever since.”

Pogue didn’t say anything but he didn’t have to—the worry was clear on his face. Caleb was quick to smile and reassure him. “It’s like I said, just a small headache. No need to blow it out of proportion, Po.”

The longhaired boy wasn’t the least bit convinced, but didn’t push the lawyer further. Caleb was great at looking after people, but not so much when it came to himself. And if Pogue called him out on it, he would only draw further into himself. The key was to not bring it up and tread subtlety.

“Okay, man. Whatever you say.” He sat down at the table, but not before sliding a bottle of aspirin over to Caleb who accepted it with a quiet thanks.

They quickly updated each other on their days. One of firm clerks was inviting everyone out for drinks next week: Caleb had said he’d get back to them after checking with the significant others. A real nice ’68 Chevy Nova had been brought into the garage for restoration: Pogue was excited to pop the hood and get to work. But it wasn’t long until Caleb noticed who was absent from the table.

“Where’s Y/N? She’s never been able to resist the smell of chili.”

“Rough day. She was crying when I got home and she’s been shut in the bedroom since then.”

“Crying? Why was she—” He cut off immediately. He knew, they both knew. You weren’t really a crier. In all of the time the three of you had been together, there was only one thing they had ever known you to cry about. “She tried Using again today.”

Pogue nodded, a severe frown on his face. He looked down the hall at the shut door, no sounds or light coming from the other side of it. “Looked like it to me. The spell book was already put away when I walked in, but she left the candles out.”

Caleb released a long breath and stared unseeing at the ceiling. How could he fix this?

Magic was a touchy subject. All three of you were witches and even if he and Pogue weren’t regularly Using, they didn’t impose their rules on you. After all, your coven had struck a different deal to gain their magic so they didn’t have to worry about you sacrificing pieces of your life whenever you tried to use it. But that didn’t mean they didn’t worry about you.

Using was…hit or miss with you. You had no problem performing large, high-powered magic. You had no problem blowing thing up or putting an entire bar full of people under a spell. But as time went on, it became apparent that you did not have the same ease when it came to more precise magic. And your struggles weren’t from lack of dedication or practice (you gave even Caleb a run for his money when it came to studying.)

The guys were incredibly supportive of your continued magic studies, but recently your mood had shifted and not for the better. After putting in so much time and effort, and still not having much to show for it, Using was starting to bring some emotional baggage to the surface. Seeing as how you’d been upset in the room for hours, they thought you were close to some kind of break.

Caleb tapped the table with his knuckles. “I’m going to check on Y/N and see if I can get them to talk to me.” He scraped his chair back and moved down the hall. He didn’t wait for Pogue’s reaction. He couldn’t. When someone he loved was struggling his immediate response was to talk with them and find a solution to the problem.

He didn’t bother knocking on the door—he knew that you wouldn’t answer anyway and that you had likely locked the door with no intention of opening it. Eyes went black briefly as he Used magic to override the lock. Normally, his rule was to only employ magic in times of emergency, but this definitely qualified as an emergency.

“Hi Y/N,” he said quietly, closing the door behind him. You were on your spot curled in the middle of the bed, body hidden under the comforter. “How was your day?” Your silence didn’t phase him as he joined you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you. “I heard you were practicing today, that’s great. I’ve always loved your drive.”

Still, nothing but silence from you.

He sighed and pulled the covers down so he could at least see your face. Your eyes were red and puffy but the crying was paused for the moment, your whole face lax as you stared through him rather than at him.

“Hey, now,” he whispered pressing gentle kisses to your forehead. “Come on, I want to hear about it.”

You pushed him away and he was relieved to see some reaction from reaction, even if it was annoyance.

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Caleb,” you stressed turning away from him. He tried to bring you back into his arms but backed off when he felt you stiffen up.

“It can’t be that bad.” More silence. “Just tell me. Please.”

The strong emotions that you had been trying so hard to hide exploded out of you and you were so upset that it wasn’t until after you finished that you realized how aggressive it sounded. “You want to know? Fine! It was a telekinesis spell. A simple freaking telekinesis spell. All I wanted to do was lift the frame that had our anniversary photo in it and guess what! And I ended up smashing it to pieces instead! There was glass everywhere and the photo is ruined, happy?”

You felt tears swimming in your eyes, whether from anger or sadness you didn’t know, and you ran with a huff to lock yourself in the bathroom. No matter what kind of tears they were, you refused to cry in front of Caleb. That would only make him more overbearing than he was currently.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered as the tears started to flow. “All this time and you still mess up a basic spell. How can you call yourself a girlfriend to two Sons of Ipswich if you can’t even get that right?”

Caleb remained on the bed, looking at the bathroom door in grief. He had meant to help you and it seemed that he only made things worse. Sighing in frustration at himself he put himself back together and went back to Pogue who was still tending to dinner. There had to be something he could do, he just wasn’t sure what that something was.

“Well,” Pogue prompted, “How did it go?”

“Disastrous,” Caleb admitted. “I just ended up making Y/N even more upset and now they’re locked in the bathroom.”

“Hmm, that’s rough man.” A timer on the counter beeped, signaling that the chili was officially done cooking. Pogue took some ceramic bowls from the cabinet. “For both of you. Try not to get worked up about—Y/N will come around when they’re ready.”

“I am not worked up,” Caleb insisted. Pogue merely raised a brow and slid a full bowl to him. “Okay, maybe I’m a little worked up.”

“I knew it,” he smirked, pushing his long hair out of his face. “You can’t help it; it’s just who you are, man. But in this case, I’m telling you that you have to be patient.”

He sat down and took a bite from his own bowl, saw the worried look on the other man’s face. “I’m telling you. I learned this the hard way back in high school. Sometimes space is the best approach,” he said with a mouth full of food.

“If you’re sure…”

The two of them kept good on their unspoken promise and didn’t ask you about the incident again. You all still shared the same bed but even there they made sure to keep their hands to themselves, which you were grateful for. You didn’t feel the need for sex given your mental state. Just knowing that they were on either side of you was enough.

A part of you felt terrible for shutting them out, but an even bigger part of you couldn’t get over the hurt. Rationally, you knew that breaking the frame wasn’t that big of a deal. The guys would definitely fix it for you if you asked. Emotionally, however, you were a wreck. Productivity was at zero for the week. During the day you felt void, your brain numb. The night was worse, racing thoughts you couldn’t control as the continuous rewind of the incident playing on loop, preventing you from getting decent sleep.

Life was a mess. You were a mess. But there wasn’t much you felt like you could do about it; you were just hoping that you’d sort yourself out soon.

It was difficult for them for watching you going through it, especially for Caleb. He kept his word and didn’t question you like he had the first night but he hovering, struggling to master the need to make it better for you. Needless to say, he fed you breakfast in bed everyday that week.

Pogue was just as concerned. He never outright confronted you about it, that just wasn’t his style, but he did the dishes every day without complaint. He fidgeted more, even by Pogue standards. And unbeknownst to you, he was playing his guitar, something that normally happened when he was trying to sort something big out.

Somehow, he managed to hide it from you but he wasn’t so lucky with Caleb.

He leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. “How long have you been playing this one? I like it.”

“This week,” Pogue shrugged trying to downplay it. “The cords were easy to throw together.”

Caleb hummed and went to sit in front of the other man. Pogue started playing the tune again and Caleb found himself humming along after a few minutes. He wore a contemplative look. “Does it have lyrics?”

Pogue shook his head side to side, tossing his hair. “Nope. You know I’m not a good poet.”

Caleb nodded again, the same thoughtful expression on his face. “What if I wrote them?”

***

At the end of the week, you were slightly more recovered. The failure and unconference were still there but Pogue had convinced you to shower with him earlier in the day. It was nice to have clean hair and soft skin again. And you even managed to clear out your emails which always felt like an accomplishment.

“Hey, do you guys want to order takeout for dinner?” You walked out to the living room looking for your boyfriends. You were getting hungry and in the mood to socialize a bit more. For a second, you thought they were both out until you saw them out on the small porch. “Hello?”

They turned around with smiles on their faces and bid you to join them. It was a mild spring day and the setting sun left just enough heat to still be comfortable while sitting outside.

“Are you feeling okay?” Caleb asked, excitement just beneath the surface.

“A little better,” you answered eying the acoustic guitar in Pogue’s hands. Takeout cartons were arranged around the small glass table. “So…what’s all this?”

Pogue cleared his throat. “We wrote a song.”

“You…wrote a song?”

“A song for you,” Caleb further explained. “We’ve been working on it for you these past couple of days. Do you want to listen to it?”

“Y-yeah,” you said startled. This had not been what you were expecting when you came outside.

Pogue started strumming immediately, having already tuned beforehand. The pace was slower but purposeful, his fingers moving gracefully over the fretboard. Your heart fluttered, the notes sounding beautiful. Then Caleb started to sing. He was a graceful as ever, his voice blending in perfectly with Pogue’s guitar playing.

You were positively flushing. As romantic as the two of them were, they had never serenaded you before. In fact, no one had ever serenaded you. You were flattered. Giddy. Dazed.

The words touched your heart. The whole thing was so intimate, especially since they wrote it for you. They were pouring out the love they felt for you, the sadness that came with seeing you struggle. Unlaying the song was the assurance that things would get better.

At some point, you’re not sure when, tears started to blur your vision. The song had barely ended before you threw yourself at them, hugging with all your might. The hugs were returned and you felt a kiss on the top of your head—Pogue. Caleb wiped away a stray tear that had escaped with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to make you cry,” he murmured softly.

“Yeah, sorry baby,” Pogue seconded. Everyone was silent for a moment when he cracked a joke. “You should’ve told me that my playing was bad, I would’ve stopped sooner.”

You slapped his chest with no real force behind it. “Shut up. I loved it. These are tears of happiness.”

“That’s a relief. We’ve been worried about you, you know.”

You relaxed into their grasp, the oranges and pinks in the dusk sky further calming you. “I know. I tried to shake it off and be rational about it but I couldn’t. I’ve been…struggling.”

“We know. It’s alright. We’re here for you through the good times and the bad,” he promised.

“I j-just feel like a failure and I don’t want you to be embarrassed of me because I—”

“Stop it. We could never, never be embarrassed of you. You’re strong and kind and smart; what’s not to love?”

“Face facts, baby, you’re stuck with us for as long as you’ll have us.”

More tears gathered. “I love you two goofs.”

“I love you, too,” they said simultaneously, leaning in on either side to press a kiss to your cheek.

_______________

First poly fic I’ve written/published. Thanks so much for reading! And thanks to Jayn for the idea! 😊 If you want more Caleb content, here’s a recent fic of mine. Check it out! If you want more poly content, let me know that too.

#the covenant #caleb danvers #pogue parry #sons of ipswich #fanfic #caleb danvers x reader #pogue parry x reader

97 notes · View notes

f0xfordcomma · 3 years ago

Text

re:union (kataang week 2021) DAY THREE

re:union

chapter three: the avatar's girl

rating: G

words: 958

summary: "He wrote love letters. He wrote a lot of love letters. He told her how much he missed her, how much he wished she was with him, how much he wished he was with her, how much, how much, how much. He never sent them."

read it on ao3

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

Three years.

They loved each other for three years after the war.

Then, for three years after that, they tried, tried, tried to stop.

The love never went anywhere, though. Not really.

He needed to go. She needed to stay.

She wanted to go with him, but the hospital needed her more.

He wanted to stay with her, but the acolytes needed him more.

Maybe this is for the best, they told each other. Maybe we both need time, space, to grow, to become ourselves. They had been young, everyone was not shy in reminding them, when they had gotten together. Perhaps, they had not yet been fully grown up. (Though, they both knew that this wasn’t true. They were young, yes, but they were grown. Had been grown. Had needed to be grown.)

He left, and she stayed, and they promised not to make any promises to one another. Not yet, not like this.

He wrote letters about his travels and the restoration process. He asked questions about irrigation and economics for Sokka to advise upon. He relayed funny anecdotes about the acolytes and the lemurs and, encouragingly, the newly discovered baby bison. He drew pictures of the views and sent along trinkets he found.

He wrote love letters. He wrote a lot of love letters. He told her how much he missed her, how much he wished she was with him, how much he wished he was with her, how much, how much, how much. He never sent them.

She answered his correspondences quickly, diligently. She’d get Sokka’s input. She’d share the stories with their friends. She’d include her own stories. Of the children she healed and the healers she trained. She pored over every word on every page he wrote. Her fingers tracing the looping scrawl of his handwriting. Wondering if the love, Aang held the multitudes that she read into it.

She went on dates. Four of them, to be precise, each one worse than the last. She was well past marrying age in the water tribes and the northern benders that came to study under her tutelage always asked about her status, seeming shocked that such a talented young woman was still single at 21. She resented the assertion that she was incomplete without a man nearly as much as she resented the fact that she felt incomplete without one, without him.

For all her great accomplishments, for all the ways that she was making a name for herself in her own right, divorcing herself from the lingering title of “the Avatar’s girl,” she knew, in the silence of the night, that it had been one of her proudest titles.

On the first date, with the shy son of a shopkeeper who worked with Lao Beifong, she had been asked about it. The night had been fine, the dinner had been fine, the conversation had been fine. “Wait! Aren’t you the Avatar’s girl?” She hadn’t said no. (It wouldn’t necessarily be the truth.) She had left soon after, citing a stomachache. (It hadn’t necessarily been a lie.)

On the second date, with a young herbalist she knew from the hospital, she had been kissed. She had let him kiss her. He was kind. He was handsome. He held her hand and listened to her speak and told good jokes. He leaned in, she didn’t lean away. It was warm and wet and nothing.

On the third date, with a warrior from the Northern Water Tribe, she had felt his hand on her backside before they had even eaten. She left him frozen in an alley. She bathed twice, trying to erase the invisible mark of him. It felt like infidelity. It felt infuriating.

On the fourth date, with an Earth Kingdom diplomat, she’d fallen asleep in her soup. To be fair, she’d received an unexpected letter from Aang the night before. He was coming back. Cranefish City was being renamed, and he had done what he had sought to do at the temples, and he was coming back.

… I can’t wait to see you. It has been too long.

Love, Aang

She couldn’t figure out if the you was singular or plural. The letter was addressed to her, but they all had been; she was the only one who checked the hawkery regularly enough to be trusted with important correspondence.

Love, Aang

She had stroked her finger over his name for three hours, feeling the indent in the paper where his quill had been. In the morning, she realized that her finger was marked black with ink, the words on the paper nearly rubbed away. She forewent her morning waterbending practice. The ink stain was still on her finger as she strolled down the wide boulevards of Cranefish City with the boring man from Ba Sing Se.

The two months felt, in some ways, longer than the three years had.

She waited. When the cicada-crickets had just started serenading the sleepy streets of the city and the water in the air thrummed heavily around her, he arrived. She was lugging a sack of produce from the market up toward the house in which she had been renting a room when she heard the groan, felt the shadow. The sack dropped from her arms, littering the ground with mangoes and cabbages.

She ran.

He was somehow taller, somehow broader. He had scruff on his face, a deeper sadness in his eyes, a stronger slant to his shoulders.

She wanted to hug him but she couldn't move from the spot.

She stared. Grey, grey, grey. Him.

Her mouth moved, her hand rose, her head was full of fog. A little wave. A little blush. “Hi, Aang.”

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

@kataang-week

thanks to my beta: @foxy-knowledgeseeker (you da best)

chapter one

chapter two

#kataang week 2021 #kataang #avatar the last airbender #aang #katara #atla #post-canon #missing moments #love letters #re:union

21 notes · View notes

slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

Text

When We Went From Friends to This - a. beauvillier

One day late, but here it is! I’ve been studying for the LSAT, but finally took it today, so I’ll have some more time to be writing more regularly now. Title is from Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings. I loved getting to write this, so please please let me know what you think, my inbox is always open! Reading the tags is one of my favorite things to do, and reblogs help me know people are liking my work.

word count: 7.7k+

September 18 (sat)

Astride Leclair was the kind of person you always wanted on your side. She’d drop anything for a friend, always be the first to reach out, and would never give up on something — or someone — without a fight. She was also incredibly stubborn. Astride had also always had a penchant for adventure, which is how she found herself in a new job 600 miles and one international border from her hometown. And she hated asking for help, it really didn’t matter the circumstance. Which is how she found herself alone, trying to heft an armchair up the stairs of her new apartment building after being very rudely informed by the width of the elevator door that it wasn’t going to fit.

The lump sum her firm gave her for relocation was enough to cover a fair amount of the furniture for her new place and she tried to bring as much as she could on the drive down, but it wasn’t like she was about to rent a U-Haul and there was only so much a Honda Civic could hold. And Astride was still her father’s daughter, still would rather step on a rusty nail than pay Ikea for assembly, so by God she was going to do it herself. And “doing it herself” apparently meant dragging an 80 pound box up three flights of stairs in 90º heat in September, when New York City seemed to have not quite yet gotten the memo that the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was now in fall.

Astride finally managed to get the chair in the door, propping the door open with one of her moving boxes, unceremoniously pulling the box through the entryway as she scooted backwards into the living room. The 600 square foot expanse of her apartment was covered in boxes, more boxes, and for good measure, extra boxes. There were moving boxes, furniture boxes, shoeboxes filled with anything except for actual shoes. There was her guitar leaning against the microwave, three suitcases worth of clothes in the barely-assembled bedroom, and her dog in a crate in the corner, who had started to whine.

“I know, baby, I’ll get you out soon,” Astride said, shooting a sympathetic glance towards the beagle mix. She had adopted Poutine a little over a year ago, soon after starting her first job out of university. It was never a question whether or not she would make the trip with Astride, and thankfully it was much easier than she anticipated to find a dog-friendly apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t too long a walk to Prospect Park, a little under a mile, and she was looking forward to getting out with Poutine later in the day. If, that was, she actually finished unpacking enough boxes to function like a normal human being. She had picked up her mattress-in-a-box earlier in the day, but it was still sitting in the corner of her bedroom and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to a night on the hardwood floor.

---

Three hours later, Astride had finally gotten all of the boxes out of her car and began to make decent headway on assembling the chair, finally having let Poutine out of her crate. The beagle trotted around the apartment, sniffing the baseboards, boxes, and single bag of groceries Astride had picked up from Whole Foods earlier in the day. The rest of her Ikea order was coming the next day, the actual bedframe and couch along with a couple of other larger furniture pieces that she had had to leave in Montréal. Whatever she couldn’t order online she’d find at a thrift store.

Astride looked tiredly over at the kitchen. She really wasn’t in the mood to cook, and was in even less of a mood to dig through all the boxes until she finally found her set of pots and pans. She really should have taken her mom’s advice and labeled everything, but Astride was stubborn as a mule, and once she was stuck in her ways, there was precious little anyone could do to convince her otherwise. Pulling out her phone, she navigated to her Uber Eats, feeling a tiny pang in her heart as she switched her location to New York. Not the language, though. Astride was so hungry that she literally clicked on whatever place could get there the fastest, which ended up being a Chinese place a mile or so away. After placing her order — she got an extra box of chow mein so she wouldn’t have to deal with breakfast the next day — she settled back into the hair, the only fully-assembled piece of furniture in the whole apartment. Her finger hovered over her Instagram for a moment before she clicked on it, liking a few photos before going to post one of her own. It was a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge as she crossed it that morning, Poutine’s head lolling out the front window. One tap and one caption later, it was posted.

---

Anthony flopped onto his bed, his duffel landing with a satisfying thump on the floor beside him. Training camp had just ended, and while he’d certainly been keeping up on his workouts over the summer, the hours upon hours of skating had nevertheless made him more than a little sore. He grabbed his phone, opening up Instagram and scrolling through the new posts, only half paying attention. Astride’s new photo caught his eye.

Sometimes, needing a change means a new haircut. Sometimes, it means a new country. Very excited to start this next chapter in my life. Salut, New York! Anthony quickly clicked onto her profile page and read her bio. International economics analyst. Eating my way through the world one pancake at a time. BCom McGill. MTL-NYC. He read the last line over and over again. MTL-NYC. He swiped back to the photo; she had tagged herself in Brooklyn. Brooklyn. She was less than an hour away, not even thirty if the traffic wasn’t bad. But she hadn’t told him, she hadn’t said anything. Anthony felt a pang in his heart. Astride knew who he played for — obviously — and she knew that of course he’d want to see her any time they were even remotely in the same place. She knew that. Right?

He spent the next twenty minutes typing out a message to her. Then deleting it. Then retyping it. Then continuing the type-delete-retype cycle until his head was spinning. This was his best friend. Why was he so nervous to talk to her? Because she was his best friend, and as much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn’t sure where they stood. He hadn’t been sure for a long time. Hey Asty! He internally cringed at himself at the use of her old nickname. I saw you moved to New York, that’s amazing! I’m over on Long Island, so I’d love to catch up with you for coffee or something when you get a chance. It’s been too long :)

It might have been a little petty — scratch that, it definitely was petty — but Astride didn’t respond to his text that night. She didn’t have read receipts on, thank God, but it sat in her messages, without response, like something she was too scared to confront. And she didn’t even know why. Okay, fine, she knew exactly why. She had moved and suddenly they were in the same city for the first time since they were kids and he was, had been, her best friend, but why now of all times? It’s not like he was never in Montréal during the year, or like they couldn’t have committed to a weekly FaceTime or something, or at least texted more than once a month. He could have done something. And that something, that lack of a something, was what kept her from responding until the next morning, tapping out a text as she halfheartedly made her way through a bowl of oatmeal. Hi, Tito, just saw your text! Lie. I did, an opportunity for a transfer came up and I decided to take it. I figured you were pretty close by, so it would be great to catch up. I don’t start at the office for a week, if you’re free any time between now and then. That much was true. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the Islanders played on, well, Long Island, and as much as she wanted to still hold a grudge against him, her heart ached at the prospect of finally being able to see him again.

Anthony responded almost instantly, Astride having just closed the door to the dishwasher — a luxury in New York, she was told — before seeing her phone light up with the telltale bubble. I’d love to, we just finished up training camp so I’m more or less free aside from practices. A second later. Is brunch still your favorite meal?

Astride laughed. It didn’t surprise her that he remembered, but it was still touching to see him say something about it. It is.

How about Tuesday? I’ll send you the directions. It’s this little café in Flatbush, I think you’ll love it.

I’m counting on it.

September 26 (sun)

Brunch had turned into dinner, which had turned into going to a Broadway show — Anthony had insisted the moment she told him she’d never been — which had turned into him coming over for Saturday night movies, an old habit of the pair’s from their days back in Québec. Which had turned into two movies and two bottles of wine, which had turned into Tito sleeping over on the couch instead of driving the thirty-odd minutes back to his apartment. Poutine sniffed him curiously, nudging one hand with her head. Astride stifled a giggle, opening the door to the balcony. “He’s very sleepy, Poutine. It’s not good manners to wake up your guests.”

“Even when they fall asleep on your couch and steal all your blankets?” Anthony said sleepily from behind.

Astride wheeled around, greeted by a half-awake Anthony Beauvillier, who was indeed bundled in all of the blankets she owned that weren’t actively on her bed. “Tito! Oh my God, you scared me. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, about as well as can be expected.” He tapped his phone, cursing when he realized it was dead. “Do you know what time it is?”

She glanced down at her watch. “8:52, why?”

Anthony jumped up, throwing his shirt back on and grabbing his still-dead phone. “I’m supposed to meet Mat for breakfast at 9:30, and the place is,” he paused for a moment, running through the grid system in his head, “probably half an hour away? I’m never the late one, can’t break that streak now.”

“Gotcha.”

He grabbed his keys, looking back at her. “Why don’t you come? You’re already dressed, and you remember Mat, right?”

She wiggled her hand. “Kind of?” She crossed the room, letting Poutine back in. “You only want me for my charged phone and navigation system.”

“You got me,” he said, laughing.

---

“You named your dog Poutine?” Mat snickered, taking a bite of his eggs.

“Would you rather I named him Tim Horton?” Astride deadpanned. “He’s a good Canadian boy with a good Canadian mom. He needed a good Canadian name.”

Mat raised his coffee mug, tilting it over towards her. “Touché.”

Anthony waved his hand in front of Mat’s face, trying to catch his attention from where he was utterly preoccupied with destroying his sourdough toast. “Hey, Mat.”

“Mmm?” He glanced up.

“Did you know that Astride lives right by Barclays? Like, right by Barclays?”

His eyebrows rose. “No way?” Astride nodded. “That’s a great area, would have been awesome if you were here a couple of years ago. Short walk to the games.”

“That’s what I told her yesterday,” Tito responded.

---

“You’re kidding,” Anthony said, looking up at her building, then across the street to Barclays, then back to Astride, one hand tangling through his hair. “We used to play right across from here.”

Astride laughed. “I thought about that,” she said. “You know I still watched your games, right? Even after we fell out of touch?” Anthony shook his head. “You were still someone I cared about, are still someone I care about, even when we only talked a few times a year.”

Beau stood there, unable to formulate a complete sentence. As far as he knew, the last Islanders game she watched had been the 2016 opener, his NHL debut and her first year at McGill. Why did he assume that? Why did he assume the worst? You can care about people even when they’re not in your life anymore. And sometimes, if you get really, really lucky, they come back.

October 9 (sat)

“Ebs is having a barbeque thing over at his house this weekend, just stuff to celebrate the beginning of the season if you wanted to come. No pressure if you’ve got plans already, though,” Anthony said over the FaceTime.

Astride nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great, I’d love to come! Just let me know when to show up and what to bring, and I’ll be there.”

It was almost a fifty-minute drive for Astride from her apartment in Prospect Heights to the house in Garden City, but there wasn’t too much traffic and besides, she had always liked driving. So she set off in her Civic, plugged her music in, and headed down 495. Anthony met her outside of the house, greeting her with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as he cocked his head towards the backyard. “Party’s this way. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Astride dutifully followed, trying not to let her nerves take hold of her. Everyone might have already been Beau’s friends, but she didn’t know them, or the dynamic of everyone’s relationships, or really, what to expect at all.

He noticed her apprehension, stopping her with a feather-light touch on her arm just before walking through the back gate. “Hey, Asty. What is it?”

She let out a little huff, still upset that he could read her like a book even after all this time. “I’m just worried that I’ll feel like I’m intruding on everything, like everyone already has their friends and a group and everything, and here comes some random Québécoise who’s a friend of Tito’s—”

He laughed, turning her around to face him. “Astride, they’re going to love you. As long as you’re the hilarious, witty, caring person I know you are, they’re going to love you as much as I do, and you’re going to fit in just fine. Do you trust me?”

She gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Good, now come back, everyone’s waiting.”

They walked through the gate, greeted by a crowd of smiling faces as Anthony brought her around to everyone to make their rounds. There was Anders, he was the captain, and his wife. There was Jordan and Lauren, and she already knew Mat, and JGP — who was excited to have another person to speak French to — and a dozen or so others, along with their respective partners and children. Anthony had gone over to talk to Mat and some of the other players, while Astride had wandered over to the drinks table. Some of the other women were chatting nearby; one of them caught Astride’s eye and waved her over to join them.

“Beau didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone!” one of the women said, pulling her over to the group with a bright smile and handing her a glass of sangria.

“Mhm,” she replied, taking a sip of the drink. “I’m new to the city, obviously, so I think he wanted me to have some people I know outside of just work.”

They all nodded. “How long have you two been together, though?” another asked. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, did you?” She looked around at the others, who shook their heads as Astride’s eyes bulged.

“Together? No, no, we’re not together. We’ve been best friends for ages, but,” she shook her head.

“Could have fooled me,” Lauren said with the smallest of winks.

Astride suddenly became very interested in the floating berries in her sangria. She looked over at Anthony, who was throwing his head back, laughing at something one of the rookies had said, and smiled. But Lauren’s words kept lingering in the back of her mind. Could have fooled me. Okay, it wasn’t like it was the first time they had been mistaken for a couple; whenever she’d make the trip up to Shawingan to visit him when he was in the QMJHL, more than once she’d have to explain to his teammates that no, she wasn’t Beau’s girlfriend, they were just best friends who had known each other forever. Just best friends.

Astride had always equated her lingering feelings for Anthony to the nostalgia of a childhood crush, the safety and security that came with remembering something from a time that seemed so simple and so easy. But childhood crushes didn’t last for ten years. And that wasn’t something she hadn’t wanted to come to terms with, something she’d been putting off for years if she was being honest with herself.

“You didn’t tell me Astride was coming,” Mat commented, seeing her mid-laugh in conversation with the other girls.

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t have any plans for the weekend and I thought it would be nice to introduce her to everyone. I remember how shitty it felt to be in a new city away from your family, don’t want her to be lonely. Plus, I genuinely think she’ll fit in great with everyone.”

Mat hummed his agreement. “She’s changed since Switzerland, don’t you think?” he asked appreciatively, referring to over five years ago, the last time he had seen her in person.

“Don’t even think about it,” Beau mumbled to Mat, seeing his eyebrows go so far up they were hidden in his hairline.

“I see a hot girl, I appreciate a hot girl,” Mat shrugged. “But don’t worry, I won’t try anything. I know she’s off-limits.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quicker than she would have thought, and after a few hours and more good conversations, it was time for Astride to leave. “Have a safe drive back,” Anthony said, giving her a hug.

“I will,” she responded.

He opened the driver’s side door for her. “I’m really glad you came, you know. Everyone liked you, you fit in great.”

“It wasn’t all me,” she said, sliding into the seat, turning her head to Anthony to continue the conversation. “Everyone really did seem to go out of their way to make me feel included, I think they understood the feeling of moving to a whole new place without a big support system and wanted to do what they could to help mitigate that for me.” Astride consciously left out Lauren’s little comment, four words that had been bouncing around in her head for hours since they had been said. He didn’t need to know. She didn’t need him to know, it could confuse him and complicate things when they were just getting back into the rhythm of friendship, of being each other’s person.

Anthony tapped his fingers on the car door. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

Beau went to sleep that night, Mat’s words bouncing around in his head. “I know she’s off-limits.” It’s not like Cass was his sister or something, someone who would inherently be barred from his best friend’s dating pool. But Mat seemed to know right away, without having ever been told, that she wasn’t someone he could ever even consider pursuing. Why? And what did Mat seem to know that he didn’t?

November 12 (fri)

It was early November, and Anthony and Astride had just settled down at a table in Prospect Park, coffee cups warming their hands through the late fall chill. “How do you feel about last night?” Astride asked teasingly. He had a three point game, two goals and an assist in a 4-1 win over the Canes, so there really wasn’t any question that he was still riding on the high.

Beau rolled his eyes. “Good, obviously. It would have been nice to get a hat trick, but I know that’s asking for a lot and I didn’t want to tempt fate too much. They made a really good push late in the second.”

“But you won,” she said, poking his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her mocha.

“But we won,” he agreed. He suddenly got quiet, the kind of quiet where, if you know the person well enough, you can tell that something’s up. That they’re thinking of something. And Astride was right. “Do you ever think about Switzerland?” he asked.

Astride looked at him from the side, knowing right away that he wasn’t asking about the country. “All the time,” she admitted.

---

It was the spring of 2015, and they were in Lucerne. By they, Astride meant her, Tito, and the rest of the 2015 Canadian U18 World Cup team. And by in Lucerne, she meant crowded into someone’s hotel room with no adult supervision. Anthony wasn’t sure where any of the coaching staff had gone, but if he was being honest, he was riding on way too big of a high to even care. They had clinched the bronze medal earlier that day, celebrating with the family and friends who had made the trip out, gotten dinner, and then packed into the first team room they came to. Well, technically, Astride, Tito, and Mat had made a stop at the grocery store before meeting everyone else back in the room. The drinking age in Switzerland was 16 for everything but spirits, and everyone was planning on taking full advantage of that. The cashier gave them a look as she took her and Anthony’s French licenses and Mat’s English one, but the charge went through just fine, and fifteen minutes later they were walking back through the doorway with three cases of beer and a few bottles of sparkling wine for good measure. Astride had never been so grateful to have her own checking account.

“You ever drink before?” Mat asked her as they opened the cases.

Astride shrugged. “Not really. A glass of wine every now and again back home with my parents, but nothing too crazy.”

He held out a bottle for her, fishing around in his pocket for the bottle opener they had picked up at the store. “Have fun.”

And have fun Astride did. She had finished off two of the beers, and one of the younger teammates — she didn’t remember who — had popped open the wine. In his slightly inebriated state, it took longer than it should have to twist off the muselet, which then led to foam all over the floor and fifteen sixteen and seventeen-year-olds running to the bathroom to grab towels to try and mop it up with. And then running back to the bathroom to get the water glasses because they needed something to drink it out of, right? And then to everyone else’s rooms because they quickly realized that two cups definitely wasn’t enough to go around, and then everyone was back in the room, on the beds and around the beds, finally letting themselves celebrate. Astride was just finishing her glass when Mat spoke. “Anyone up for never have I ever?” Nobody said otherwise, so two minutes later, they were all arranged in what could very generously be called a circle, fresh drinks in hand. After a solid five minutes of repeating the rules — there was always at least one person who seemed to genuinely struggle with the idea that you drank if you had done the thing, not if you hadn’t — they were slowly but surely making their way around the circle.

Questions ranged from the mundane — “Never have I ever gotten detention” — to the raunchy — “Never have I ever had my parents walk in on me” — neither of which Astride or Tito drank to.

By the time it was Mat’s turn, he had had plenty of time to think, looking around the group with a conspiratorial grin. “What is it?” Tito asked skeptically.

He shrugged. “Never have I ever...kissed anyone in the circle.” As expected, nobody drank, but apparently that wasn’t expected, not for Mat, at least. He looked between Anthony and Astride incredulously. “Seriously? You two have never kissed?”

Anthony shook his head. “Nope.”

“How? You’ve been friends for, like, a million years, not even when you were little or anything?” he asked.

“Never,” Astride said. “Kind of hard to kiss your best friend when you haven’t kissed anyone before.” She barely even realized that everyone was still listening in.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Anthony asked, surprised.

Astride looked down at her hands, sipping her beer. “Nope.” She gave him a brief smile. “I know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but no. Just hasn’t happened yet.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was feelings buried so deeply in Anthony’s mind that he didn’t think would ever see the light of day, let alone have to be confronted, that made him say what he did next. “I could—if you wanted—you don’t have to, but—” he stammered.

Astride laughed, looking at him curiously. “What is it, Tito? You’re not normally one to stumble over your words like that.”

He picked at his fingernails, an old nervous tick from his childhood that his mother was never quite able to get him to break, keenly aware that the whole room had decided to listen into their conversation. “I was just trying to say...I could do it, if you want. Kiss you, I mean. If you just wanted to get it over with, or whatever. I just figured. You know me, you trust me, you’re comfortable with me. Better that than some idiot at school who doesn’t care about you.”

Her cheeks burned as she looked over at him, but even though it took her nearly a minute to respond, she had her answer after five seconds. “Why not?” Astride flashed him the purest, gentlest smile, the kind that let him know just how much she cared about him and how deeply she trusted him. And the look on her face meant the world to him.

Anthony leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, his fingertips just barely touching her cheek as their foreheads leant together. “You sure about this?” He needed her to be sure.

She nodded. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, and I never imagined my first kiss would be in front of an audience,” she paused to giggle at the rest of the team, who were giving the scene their full attention in a way that somehow wasn’t uncomfortable at all, just wholesome and supportive, “but yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all the permission Anthony needed to lean forward, pressing his lips against hers, in a kiss that was soft and sweet and somehow everything Astride needed all in one. He pulled back after a moment, a goofy smile on his face. “How was it?”

Astride couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Good, it was really good, Tito. Thank you for that.”

“What are friends for?”

---

“Friends are for kissing each other, apparently,” Astride giggled, leaning into Anthony on his couch.

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Did you ever think something was going to happen between us?” Anthony asked curiously.

Astride shrugged. “At some point, yeah. I think it was kind of hard not to, with our parents and literally everyone we spent time with saying we were destined to fall in love.” She looked down at her hands, trying not to give away the fact that at one point, she had believed them.

November 30 (tues)

“Do you want to come over Friday?” Anthony asked, sprawled out across her couch on one of his rare nights off. He had made the drive over to Astride’s apartment, cooking salmon and roasting vegetables while she took the much more daunting task of picking what to watch on Netflix. She settled on Back to the Future. “I can order in Thai, I know we’re trying to work our way through the Mission Impossibles.”

Astride grimaced. “I actually...kind of have a date Friday night,” she admitted.

Anthony made a hum of surprise. “You do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so shocked, Tito. There are men in this city of nine million who want to take me out.”

He sputtered. “It’s not that that shocks me, Asty. You’d have men lining up around the block for you if you’d give any of them a second glance. It’s just that. You never seem to bother actually going after any of them. What made this one different?”

“I mean, honestly hour?” Astride said, shrugging.

“Honestly hour.”

“I haven’t been on a date since I left Montréal, you know that. It had been a few months there too. And I’ve loved hanging out with you more, getting to know Mat and the team and everyone’s partners, but...I needed something different, too. Something that felt like a part of my life that wasn’t directly connected to the team. Which, don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I love them, and it’s been so nice to be a part of that group, I just…” Astride trailed off.

“You can’t let that be the only part of your life. I get it,” Anthony added helpfully.

“Yeah,” Astride agreed. “So enter Cole. He works in a different division of the IE department, I’m obviously Europe and he’s Asia, mostly does work with Taiwan and Singapore. Um,” she said, her eyes turning towards the ceiling, “he seems really nice, did international business at UPenn, which is a great program. Speaks fluent Mandarin, uh, I think he mentioned he’s got a few fish at home.”

Anthony snorted. “What’s wrong with fish?” Astride asked defensively.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong with fish,” he said. “Just seems like an odd choice. Maybe his building doesn’t allow pets or something.”

“Maybe,” Astride responded. “I wouldn’t know, he lives in Manhattan, over in Tribeca. Bikes to work.”

Tito laughed again. “I don’t trust people who bike to work in New York City, Asty. They have zero regard for their own lives or safety.”

She giggled. “That might be true. But I’m looking forward to it, the date, I mean. I really am. It’s been a while since I’ve really put myself back out there, and I’m ready for something good. Something real.”

He gave a half-smile from his side of the couch. “I’m happy for you, Astride. I hope you have a great time, and I hope he treats you right. If he doesn’t, just let him know that you can sic an entire professional hockey team on him with a single phone call.”

“I will,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s over, tell you how it went.” “

I’ll be waiting,” he said.

Anthony thought back on the conversation as he sat on the corner of his bed that night, about to go to sleep. He turned his phone over and over in his hands, his eyes fixating on the chip in the crown molding that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. He wasn’t lying to Astride when he said he was happy for her. He was, of course he was, who wouldn’t want their best friend to be happy? But while he wanted nothing more, nothing more, than to be able to give his full-throated support for her date, and the potential the future held for her and this Cole guy, he couldn’t do it. There was something stopping him. And the worst part of it all was that Anthony was starting to realize what it was.

---

Astride had said that their dinner reservation was at 7, some brasserie in the West Village. “That’s a French thing, right?” Cole had asked.

“It is,” Astride responded, gearing up for her translation skills to be used for the first time in months. She spoke almost exclusively French around Tito, and with JGP and Brassard, but the majority of her day was spent in English. Cole said that the restaurant had come highly recommended from one of his Wall Street friends, something that should have been the first red flag.

“Never trust the finance bros,” Reese, a German specialist and one of her friends at the office, had said. “They all think they’re God’s gift to mankind when I can guarantee you they ain’t shit.”

She had said it was at 7, so Anthony wasn’t expecting to hear from her until much later; honestly, he would have been surprised if she had called before 10. He tried not to think about what it could mean if she didn’t call at all that night. She had said it was at 7, so when he heard a knock at his door at half past nine, he practically jumped out of his skin before scrambling to open the door. His eyebrows rose when he saw Astride on the other side of the door, then his face contorted into a look of sympathy as he saw the sad smile on her lips, her jacket slung over one arm.

“Can I come in?” she asked. He nodded without question, holding the door while stepping out of the way. He padded to the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of Moscato and two glasses. Astride smiled gratefully at him as he uncorked the bottle and poured. He knew that she couldn’t do red wine when she was upset, and she was upset.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively.

Astride shrugged, sipping the wine. “Not much to tell other than it was probably the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

That piqued Anthony’s interest. He’d never be happy that she was upset, but something told him the story wasn’t quite that simple. “What about it was so bad?”

“Where do I begin?” she sighed. “He was on time, but that’s pretty much the only thing Cole did right the entire night. He was rude to the waitress when we had to wait all of ten minutes until our reservation was ready, because the couple ahead had gone long. Then he ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine they had, without even asking me to see what I wanted. He really just was trying to show off that he could afford it. And it was a Sangiovese, and you know I hate dry wines, so I was just trying to choke the whole thing down. And then he insisted on ordering for me, which is probably the most chauvinistic thing I could think of, I mean, who does that anymore?” she asked incredulously.

Tito shrugged. It was disrespectful, absolutely, but more than that, it was just weird. If women have mouths that work, then they’re more than capable of doing something as simple as ordering their own food.

“And he kept trying to pour me more wine after the first glass, even when I told him a million times I was good.” Anthony’s grip on his glass tightened. Astride rubbed her temples with her free hand. “He just kept going on and on about work, and this big promotion he’s insisting he’s going to get even though I know for a fact that they want Maria for it. I could barely get a word in edgewise. That’s when I just decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I faked that Jean-Claude was calling, grabbed my jacket, and caught a cab over here.” She looked up at him, the same disappointed expression she had worn when he opened the door. “I was really hoping this one would pan out, Tito.”

He felt an ache in his heart. He may have been less than thrilled about the prospect of Astride going out on a date, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see her so despondent. He leaned over, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose. “I know, Asty. And I’m sorry it didn’t.”

December 13 (mon)

Anthony and Mat were the last ones in the locker room after a morning practice. “I found this new place nearby last week that’s got great smoothie bowls, want to get one after you finish packing your stuff?” Anthony asked, looking over at Mat.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, Sounds good,” Mat nodded, half-listening.

Anthony glanced over at him, a weird look on his face. “You good, dude? You sound distracted.”

Mat spoke abruptly, looking over at Tito with a laser-focused expression. “How long have you been in love with Astride?”

Anthony’s eyebrows jumped a foot. “In love with Astride? Why would you think that?”

Mat gave him a look, the kind of look that let Anthony know he was dead serious about what he was saying, and more than that, that he believed it. “Tito, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

Anthony leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yep,” Mat said, popping the p.

“Do you think she knows?” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Mat said, shrugging. “I don’t think so, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to really be able to know about something as big as that and not address it. Doesn’t like to keep things bottled up, it’s not really her style.”

Anthony nodded. “It’s not.” He raked one hand through his haid, his head still leaning on the other one. “God. How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with her?”

Mat put one hand on Beau’s back, comforting him as best he could. “I don’t know, Tito. I wish I could help. What I do know,” he said, “is that you’re going to have to eventually. Because it’s going to tear you up if you don’t.”

December 18 (sat)

Astride tossed one final empty can into the garbage bag. “I think that’s it,” she said, giving his living room a cursory look. What had looked like a warzone only less than an hour before now more closely resembled the somewhat-messy but perfectly respectable bachelor pad of a man in his 20s, like it should have. With the holidays approaching, Anthony had decided to take it into his own hands to host a party — alongside Astride, who he had practically begged for help — intent on showcasing his newly-acquired skills by playing bartender the whole night. He was surprisingly capable, Astride had thought, if her Sazerac was anything to go by.

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Asty. And thanks for staying and helping clean everything up, you really didn’t have to.”

She tied the bag off and set it by the door with the other one. “I wanted to. And besides, I’m staying over,” she said, looking over at Anthony, “so what did you think I was going to do? Lock myself in the guest room while you cleaned up the whole apartment by yourself? What kind of a woman do you take me for?” she asked in mock offense.

Anthony laughed, sitting down on the couch with a satisfying thump, pulling Astride into his side when she settled next to him.

“I’m so glad we got back in contact,” she said, muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m so glad we’re friends again.”

He felt guilty; more than that, he knew that the guilt, at least some of it, was deserved. “I should have done more,” he lamented. “I should have done more to keep in contact, more to show you I cared, more so you’d know that your friendship is one of the things I value most in my life.”

Astride gave a small smile. “It’s a two-way street, Tito. Sure, I won’t lie and say that you really put all that much effort into keeping in contact. You didn’t.” He winced, she shot him a sympathetic look. “I love you, but you know me. I don’t mince my words. But I definitely could have done more than text you congratulations or leave a thirty-second voicemail on your birthday. We both could have done more. We both should have done more,” she said, correcting herself. “What do you think happened, though? Where did we go wrong?” As much as she might have hated it, Astride was that kind of person. She went through every bad decision in her life with a fine-toothed comb, needing to know what went wrong, needing to know what she could have done differently.

“I think,” he began, “that it was just so easy to get distracted from ‘back home’ things. From our friendship, from my relationships with my family. From the important things, the things that I should have made an effort to prioritize even when the season got hectic and games got hard. And I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added quickly, “but there was just something about where I was, physically and mentally. I was 19, a rookie in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I think I just lost sight of things. Between the practices and games and going out and community events and trying to get in more than five hours of sleep a night, it was a lot,” he admitted. “It was stressful, probably weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m well aware I was — and am — living a life thousands of kids would kill for, but there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that you don’t really understand unless you’ve been through it. I don’t have many regrets from my rookie season, or really many in my career so far. Don’t regret moving for minors, don’t regret going to the Isles, don’t regret any of the contracts I’ve signed or plays I’ve made. Well,” he smirked, “maybe a few. But the one big one? The only real regret I’ve had? Letting you go.”

Astride swallowed hard, choosing her next words carefully. “What do you mean, letting me go?”

Anthony let out a hard sigh. He’d put it off for long enough. He couldn’t do it any longer. “Never telling you how I feel.”

“How you feel?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her fingers tangling in the fringe of the fleece blanket that was slung over the couch cushions.

“Like I love you so much my heart could burst.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “How long have you known?”

He looked at her with a soft smile. “Ever since Switzerland.”

“Six years?”

“Six years.” He reached out slowly, so slowly, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear when she didn’t move back. They sat in silence for a moment, and when Anthony spoke again, his voice wavered. “Asty? Say something.”

Astride’s lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I knew since I was 15.”

His face split into a grin, wider and wider until she was sure she’d never seen a bigger smile. “You did? You do?”

She nodded, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering butterfly-fast underneath her fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was, Tito.”

He pushed forward, pressing his lips against hers for the first time since 2015, the first time since Switzerland. It was gentle and meaningful and somehow communicated all of the love and emotion that had been built up between the two of them in the past six years. Anthony pulled back after a minute, his lips pink and slightly puffy. “Tell me where your head’s at, Astride.”

“Is it too cliché to just say that this might be the happiest I’ve been in years?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.” But there was something that she wasn’t quite letting go of. “What is it, Astride?”

Astride sniffed. “I want this. You and I, I want it so mad it hurts. I just hate the idea that we’d turn into some sort of cliché. Childhood friends who grow up and fall in love, but something goes wrong and they split up and suddenly the dynamic of everything is messed up and I don’t want that, Tito. I don’t know if I could deal with you hating me because of how things ended.”

“But things don’t have to end, Asty. Every broken heart, every date where some asshole has stood you up has led you to know that you deserve more. You deserve so much more, Astride, you deserve the sun and the moon and someone who would hang them in the sky for you. It doesn’t have to end in heartbreak. It doesn’t have to end at all.”

Astride had always been someone who was cautious, someone who thought before she acted and never spoke without thinking through every possible outcome. But this was one of the times that she couldn’t do that, one of the times when, as much as she may have hated it, she needed to take a leap of faith. And so she did. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Anthony asked, his voice lifting.

She nodded, the happiness on her face unmistakable. “Okay.”

And as Astride and Anthony FaceTimed her parents to break the news, her mom slapping her dad’s shoulder, claiming that she had “called it” back in 2014, Astride was filled with a sense of undeniable, irreplaceable joy. The kind of joy that the poets write about and artists put brush to canvas trying to depict, the kind that most people go their whole lives only hoping to get a glimpse of. The kind that made Astride more certain of one thing than she had perhaps been in her entire life. It didn’t have to end in heartbreak. And this one didn’t have to end at all.

And as they stood two years later in a little church in their hometown, promising in front of their family and friends and the entire New York Islanders to love each other for the rest of their lives, Astride finally believed it.

#anthony beauvillier #hockey smut #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #new york islanders

168 notes · View notes

awriterpretendingtowrite · 4 years ago

Text

I'm rewatching Little Women (the 1994 version with Winona Ryder) and I just--

I love Beth and Jo. All the March sisters are my favorite, but they're my favorite favorite. And I can't stop my brainrot about Little Women in a 2021/modern setting.

So here, take my modern Little Women brainrot:

Beth: She would be anxious about the pandemic, but she would love quarantine, what with everyone at home and staying inside together. She would irritate her siblings with her piano playing 24/7, but I don't think she'd care much. She would also volunteer at the vaccine sites as soon as they opened and help people as much as she could. Aroace, but she's got the biggest heart of anyone you've ever known. Definitely has anxiety and is autistic. Chronically ill (but she doesn't die because ~modern medicine~). Probably agender, but she doesn't care enough to figure it all out. Never swears, but doesn't mind when her sisters do.

Jo: She/they, first of all. Second of all, crossdresser ("If I were a man, I'd want to look just like that"). She would also absolutely be an AO3 writer who gets published later on. Then gets diagnosed with anxiety, depression, ADHD, the whole lot. Asexual queen. Biromantic icon. (No, I'm not projecting, why do you ask?) Moves to the city, loves the city life. Rooms with Laurie, who moves out of the country to the city with them. Doesn't swear regularly, but when she does, it's quite colorful. They and Laurie both go to college in the city (likely NYC). They have the time of their lives even though they both eat ramen for every meal. They both get ~therapy~ too.

Meg: Straight, but an ally. Stays out of politics, but secretly smiles when the people her sisters vote for win elections. Marries an accountant (a real accountant, NOT the TikTok kind), but she enjoys the simple suburban life. The only devout religious one of the sisters, but she doesn't push it on her sisters. Has a classic little American family and frowns when her sisters swear. Although she does fit into the classic Republican setting, she secretly doesn't like it very much. She and her sisters (and Laurie) all grew up doing theatre, and although she would never admit it, she misses it very much.

Amy: (Y'all are gonna hate me for this one) TERF. I said what I said. However, once Jo comes out as she/they when Amy is a teenager, she rethinks her whole view of it and comes out a better ally than ever. Becomes the loudest ally of the sisters and ends up leading them in pride marches. She only ever dates men, and was insistent that she was straight before she rethought everything, but now she refuses to put labels on herself. They just don't fit, she says. Rarely swears, except for the occasional F-bomb when she's cursing out homophobes (or when her favorite TV ship doesn't get together).

Laurie (I know he's not a March sister but I like him anyway): I think he and Jo would stay best friends and never develop romantic feelings for each other. He would actually be a brother to them all, not some weird brother/romantic interest for them. He would definitely be pansexual and probably very demiromantic, if not completely aro all together. Realizes that he's definitely he/they soon after Jo comes out. He and Jo get up to all sorts of crossdressing shenanigans, especially when people get mad at Jo for "trying to be a boy." They go out to brunch on random Tuesdays wearing each other's church clothes, with Amy (before Laurie and Jo moved out to the city) having done Laurie's makeup flawlessly, glitter and all. They're a Gay Theatre Nerd, just like Jo. And Beth. And Meg and Amy (although those two aren't exactly gay).

Marmie: Ultimate Queen in Literally Every Way, Just Like in the Movie. Supports her lovely children in every way she can while still fighting "in her own way," as Beth says, against racism and homophobia/transphobia and gender inequality. I love her so much y'all don't understand. Religious, like Meg, and when her children live at home, she has them go to church with her, but she doesn't force it on them in any way other than that. She simply wants her girls to have good morals and a strong belief in doing what's right.

Sunday nights are dinner at Marmie's when they've all moved out, with Jo and Laurie facetiming in from the city. Beth stays at home with Marmie and helps her run the donation center they founded in their countryside town. Amy studies abroad for college, traveling everywhere she can, calling her dear Marmie every chance she gets and showing her the lovely sights across the world that she gets to see. Meg, like I said, lives in the suburbs with her husband and children, but she travels out to Marmie's house every Sunday. Jo and Laurie probably end up in an open QPR of some sort to make it easier to explain to Laurie's traditionalist family why their son is living with a ~woman~ instead of living in the dorms with the other college boys. Of course, the March father is fine with everything. He’s a supportive king. Marmie wouldn’t have settled for any less.

#little women #long post #modern au #modern little women #jo march #meg march #beth march #amy march #laurie #marmie #QPR #queer headcanons #queer characters #she/they #he/they #aroace #i love them so much #marmie march #my post

30 notes · View notes

a-cupof-jo · 3 years ago

Text

Set Up My Heart Pt. 6

Pt. 5 -- Pt. 6 -- Pt. 7

College volleyball player!Johnny Suh x reader

Rivals-to-lovers

Fluff and angst

Synopsis: Ever since that fateful day Sophomore year of high school, Johnny Suh had been an insufferable thorn in your side. Once you made it to college you thought the two of you would never have to see each other again. That is, until a sudden school transfer has the entire university buzzing

When Jungwoo told you that the team ran more on the scrappy side than technical side, you thought that you were gonna have your work cut out for you. Instead, you were surprised to see a well gelled team with obvious athletic capabilities. A tall boy stood on the opposite side of the net and was the first to see you enter. “Hey,” he raised his hand in a wave. “You Y/n?”

You nod sitting down on the nearby bleacher, “Yeah, Jungwoo here yet?” You looked around for the energetic boy.

“Yeah, he said he would be back soon. He had to go grab a drink at the drink bar. I’m Lucas by the way,” he grinned as he reached out to shake your hand. “Jungwoo told us that you are going to be our secret weapon this year.”

You chuckle slightly, “I’m not sure about that. It’s been a while since I’ve played. I'm a bit rusty.”

“That’s okay,” he shrugged. “Most of us don’t play regularly. We are just doing it for fun.” He watched as you pulled the laces tight on your shoes. “Do you want me to introduce you to the rest of the team?”

“That would be great,” you smiled up at him. Lucas was an easy and outgoing person. You watch as he shouted and laughed as the other members of your new team started gathering around the net. With his carefree attitude and electric personality, you could see how it would be easy to really just view this as a fun sport activity. For so long you had viewed it as a competition, a way to keep your place in the society of high school, or even for scholarship opportunities. Maybe now you should take this opportunity to let that go. To relearn the sport as a way to have fun and grow communities.

“And this is Doyoung. Since Jaehyun decided to play for the baseball team we had to find a replacement, but don’t fret Jaehyun will forever be in our hearts. Rest in pieces,” Lucas cackled as Doyoung let out a disgruntled huff before smiling with the boy.

“You’re just lucky my schedule allowed me to do this,” Doyoung rolled his eyes at the three girls whose names you missed. “Speaking of which, where are Jungwoo and Taeil. I haven’t seen either one and we are supposed to get starting soon.”

“Doyoung please, you should lighten up. So what if we start a few minutes late,” you see Jungwoo walk into the circle. “You don’t have to follow your ‘schedule’ to T. Live a little.”

“That’s rich coming from you. You o-”

“Sorry I’m late!” a new voice yelled behind you. “My music composition class ran late and then Taeyong need help with the music for his upcoming dance competition and-”

“Taeil,” Jungwoo threw his arms around the newcomer obscuring him from view. “I’m so happy you made it!”

The shorter male gave Jungwoo a quick pat on the back before pulling away, “You guys can go ahead and get started. I’ll just take a moment to get my shoes on.” He glanced up with a smile and suddenly you knew him.

"Hey, you're in my Chemistry lecture aren't you?" stopped in front of him. "I think I sit next to you."

He studied your face for a second nodding, "Yeah, you dropped your pencil last week."

You blushed at that, "Yeah, so ho-"

"Y/n come on you can meet Taeil later," you gave an apologetic smile to Taeil before turning to Jungwoo. Jungwoo clapped his hands, “Great! Let’s get started.”

"That was fun," Lucas bounced in place as everyone stopped to stretch their tired limbs. "When's our first game again?"

"Two weeks, but I'm planning a scrimmage for next week instead of a practice," Jungwoo pulled his knee pads down. "Same time work for everyone."

You nodded along with the others, "Do you know what team?"

"I've got a couple of people I'm checking with," Jungwoo hummed before turning to one of the other girls, changing the topic.

You startled slightly as a bag was placed down beside you, "Hey," Taeil grinned. "Great job out there."

You smile back at the libero, "You too. I didn't realize that you were gonna be a libero."

"Setter, right?" he grinned as he finished putting on his slides. He shrugged as he stood, "I'll really play anywhere, but Jungwoo said that he thought you and I would play well off each other."

"Oh," you raise an eyebrow to where Jungwoo sat laughing with Lucas.

Taeil reached a hand out to pull you up off the ground, "Yeah, something about your past experience playing and mine. I don't know, Jungwoo's a character." You noticed that he smiled a lot and his eyes were inviting.

"He is," you agree. "but we love him anyway."

Doyoung hummed as he stepped up next to you guys, "Debatable."

"Doyoung, don't be mean," Jungwoo pouted. You all chuckled as he threw his arms around Taeil claiming he needed comfort. "Well I'm glad to see you all getting along well. I knew you'd be a great addition, Y/n."

"Hey," Doyoung gave a slight whine. "What about me."

Jungwoo grinned, "Debatable."

Doyoung good naturedly rolled his eyes, "Well, I've got to get going. Assignments wait for no one."

Taeil glanced down at his watch, "Shoot, I do too. Thanks guys keep me updated on next week." Jungwoo nodded as Taeil grabbed his bag and rushed to the gym doors, "Oh, I'll see in Chem, Y/n!"

Your response got swallowed up by the group yelling out goodbyes. You shake your head as you get ready to leave.

"I'll walk out with you," Lucas stood next to you, his bag hanging over his shoulder.

"Okay," you grin as you guys walk through the door. You laughed as Lucas tripped on a ledge. "Are you okay," you move out of the way as you feel others trying to walk through the door behind you. An arm bumped you and you glared at the back of a tall man's head.

"I'm fine," Lucas stumbled into the parking lot. "I'm just tired," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Well I better get going. It was nice to meet you, Y/n! I'll see you next week!"

"Bye, Lucas!" you unlock your car before sliding in. Maybe Jungwoo was right. Playing on this team might be good for you. You turn on the music and wait for the cool air in your car to start blowing. Glancing at your phone you see a text from Jungwoo confirming time for your scrimmage next week. You let out a yell as a finger tapped on your window. A man stood outside your window trying to look in. You check to make sure your doors are locked before honking your horn.

“Hey,” a gruff voice accompanied the tapping. “Roll down the window.”

You shift your car into drive, “Please leave, I'm just trying to go home.”

“Can you give me a ride to the bus stop,” he tried peering through the window again.

You swallow the lump in your throat before looking down the street, “Sir, there is a bus stop at the end of this parking lot. Please step away from my car.” Your voice came through firm, demanding the man step away.

“I just need a ride to the bus stop,” he jerked on the door handle. ”Come on, why won't a pretty girl like you just give an old man a drive.”

“Sir, please step-”

“Hey,” another man steps up to the car. “Is there a problem here?” You peer through the window before scoffing and rolling your eyes.

“She was just going to give me a ride,” the man with dirty clothes glared through the window.

Johnny stood arms crossed next to him, “I don’t think she was. In fact,” he glanced down at you. “That looks like the phone number for the police right now.”

“Hey,” the man looked down, panicked. “No, I was just leaving. You’re right. There’s a bus stop right there.” He quickly turned away and ran down past the bus stop and down the street.

Johnny continued to stand outside your door. You pull forward slightly before being stopped by another tap on your window. Rolling it down a crack you glare into hazelnut eyes. “You okay?”

“Just fine,” you turned and looked ahead. You didn’t need Johnny to step in. You were dealing fine on your own. Why was he even here? “I didn’t need you to come to my aid. I was taking care of it on my own.”

Johnny shrugged, “Maybe, but it doesn’t hurt to have some help. He was creepy and I don’t think he was going to back off anytime soon.”

You stare ahead, lips pursed. “I don’t know why you decided now would be a good time to step in. I thought that you ‘don’t like to get involved in other people's problems’. At least, wasn’t that your excuse in high school, hm?” Your eyes burned as you finally turned to look at him.

“Y/n, I was young. I didn’t-”

You hold up your hand, “Don’t. I don’t want to hear your excuses. What happened, happened and neither of us can change that now.” You sigh glancing up at him. His eyes held tension and pain. The past was written across his face. “I’ve got to go.” You roll up the window. Johnny’s hand fell from the roof of your car as you slowly pulled way. Before you exited the parking lot you glanced into the rearview mirror. Johnny’s head was ducked as he walked towards the gym. Maybe you were being unfair, but he deserves it. He always showed up when it didn’t matter.

*Repost from previous blog*

tag list: @beyond-gethsemane @lanadreamie @michplusb @jaxminskale @nanascupid @qianinterprises @stayctday @infnteen @sadgirlroo

#nct scenarios #NCT fluff #nct fic #Johnny fluff #johnny fics #johnny x reader #johnny angst

23 notes · View notes

sneezefiction · 4 years ago

Text

“okay, fine!”

Bokuto x Reader - Scenario

event request: “congrats on 600 #10 and Bokuto pls?”

a/n: something about moody, high school Bokuto really just gets me lmao. i love his sweet (sometimes ditzy) self so much. hope you enjoy some fluffy, unconventional confessions! <33

warnings: none!

wc: 1720

---

“Are you gonna stay mad at me forever?” You say, exasperated.

The fluorescent lights are switched off, but the classroom isn’t completely dark. It’s illuminated by open windows and a pale, cloudy sky. Your hand rests loosely on your hip, the other arm hanging limply by your side awaiting his response.

The gloomy boy stays bunched up under the school desk, feet planted and eyes downcast, only giving you a dejected nod in response.

You let out a defeated sigh, your own head drooping in mock despondency. You hope he notices your reaction, but if he did, he doesn’t allude to it.

His golden eyes stay fixed on his shoes.

This would be harder than you thought.

You were used to Bokuto’s antics and aggressive mood swings that caused you to relentlessly chase his thought process until you figured out the issue. With a little prodding and finagling, plus maybe some advice from Akaashi, you could transform his pout into a blossoming, spring glow. His smile would return in a matter of hours to minutes.

But this was different.

He hadn’t smiled, spoken to, or so much as glanced your way in almost an entire month.

Bokuto was constantly groaning with his face squished between his hands, regularly sulking in the halls and gym, and to top it off, avoiding you at every twist and turn.

You could hardly put a finger on it and to say it made you uneasy would be an understatement.

You missed his snuggly bear hugs. How his lopsided grin always greeted you before any words could. Hell, you were even beginning to miss that horrible, “Hey, hey, heyyy!”

But clearly something was off… and it seemed to be directed at you.

The silent treatment is about to tear you up inside with worry, so it’s about time you confronted him.

Taking baby-steps, you slowly make your way up to his hiding place under the desk. Not trying to cross a boundary, you place a shy hand on the cold, plastic table-top, bending your knees into a squat so that you could be eye-level with the moping boy.

But now that you’re up close, you can tell that this isn’t any normal sadness.

You already suspected there was something more going on, but it’s clear now:

He’s actually hurt.

So you let yourself sink gently into a crisscrossed position in front of him, allowing your hands to fall into your lap for a moment before assessing the situation.

As one of Bokuto’s closest friends, you know that physical touch is a good start to any important conversation. So you reach out, being careful not to scrape your hand on the underneath of the table, and tenderly card it through his hair. For how spiky it looks, in all your life you’ve never felt something so soft and silky.

The sensation, though by your own doing, causes you to flush. But this isn’t about your feelings right now. No, this is about the troubled boy in front of you.

The glide of your lithe fingers in his hair finally compels him to glance up at you. Bokuto can’t help but lose some of his despondent edge as your devoted gaze receives his doleful one.

With a hand still slowly brushing his hair back, a heavy weight lifts off of your shoulders at the sight of his expressive, round eyes. You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. The guilt of not knowing what you’d done wrong had been piling like bricks on your chest, so it’s about time he at least shows you his face.

You muster up that sinking question. One he’s avoided for a month now.

“Bo, won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” You coax, your voice delicate and cautious.

Another shake of his head. It’s childish. Silly. But you know it’s genuine.

So you press on,

“I’m joining you down there, okay?” You state quietly, but resolutely.

You awkwardly shift under and into the tiny space. He scoots over, but only just enough that your knee is overlapping his thigh and so that your arm is snugly propped up against his. He doesn’t say it, but every fiber of Bokuto’s being is itching to swallow you up in a 2 hour long, all-consuming hug. He wants to touch your soft skin and laugh gleefully at the sound of your heavenly voice. To breathe in your intoxicating strawberry-chocolate aroma that makes his heart skip a beat.

But how can he do that if you’re not his?

You’re his best friend, but according to Akaashi, best friends don’t typically hold hands and smother each other in devoted, verbal love letters and tears of adoration. Or at least, most best friends don’t.

The reality crushed him.

He hadn’t realized it until a month ago, but Bokuto has been unknowingly pining after you for years. He wondered why his pulse raced at the brush of your hand or at one of your signature, teasing smiles. Why he wanted to pick you up and spin you around until you were both left breathless in each other’s arms. Why others taking up your time and attention had him pouting and emotionally charged. Why he needed to know everything about you, from your favorite color to the name of every single pet fish you’ve owned.

And then it clicked.

Or, well, Akaashi informed him that his actions and desires were likely due to his “crush” on you.

But that’s beside the point. He couldn’t spin you around in circles. Or press little kisses to your palms and temple. Or hold your smaller hands in his larger, warmer ones.

He realized he couldn’t do these things… because you aren’t his lover. And the thought of you finding someone else who would do that for you simply crushed his sweet soul.

And of course, if you liked him, you would’ve said something already, right?

But at the brush of your fingertips on his palm, he jolts upright. He instinctively encloses your hand in his palm and turns his head to soak in your features.

“So will you tell me now?” You’re fighting the crimson color that’s sneaking it’s way onto your cheeks, grasping his fingers a little tighter in the process.

And he can’t suppress his true nature any longer. Because, yes, Bokuto has mood swings… but a month-long breakdown is too much for his already addled brain and he is sick and tired of burying his feelings under a pile of uncertainty.

“Okay, fine!” He groans, snuggling his head into your shoulder.

You stiffen.

First, he ignores you for a month and now he’s back to his sporadic, cuddly tendencies? Were you ever going to be able to get used to this? But before you can relax into the touch, he follows up.

“The thing is… I like you y/n. No, wait, scratch that, I think I love you...” He explains, babbling almost casually, not recognizing the substance of his words.

Your eyes are wide and mouth agape. To most people, this would be the time to acquire an answer. To either receive or reject. Yet he gives you no time to process the confession, continuing in an almost... frustrated manner.

“But the thing is, you don’t like me! Which means I can’t treat you like I’m your boyfriend and go on fun dates and stuff. Y’know like amusement parks and arcades and coffee shops or-”

“Bokuto, wait a second, please, what?” You shuffle away from his touch, your hands firmly set on the ground beside you to steady yourself, facing him head-on.

“Yeah, I know right? This sucks. I only realized I liked you this past month when Akaashi-”

“Bo, stop talking,” You beg, trying to get a flustered word in.

“-told me that wanting to kiss you probably meant-”

“Just let me say something please!” You try to cut in, this time waving your hands frantically to get him to stop.

“-that I liked you. Oh, sure, go ahead.” For someone who’d been moping around for so long, the bubbly attitude that resurfaced had your head spinning. But the confession? Oh, that did it.

Your entire face is a delicate portrait of roses and deep scarlets, reaching up to your ears.

It takes a few seconds to fumble through your muddled thoughts, grasping for some semblance of a response. This… no, Bokuto is overwhelming. But you settle on the most important part of his bizarre confession.

“Who… who said I didn’t like you back?” You question, trying to keep yourself composed, but failing miserably.

He stays silent, processing your words as though they were some test question he hadn’t quite studied for. His eyes blankly scan the room, searching for the answer as though it would show up on the classroom walls.

Finally, Bokuto tilts his head,

“I don’t know.” He states plainly, full of confusion,

“How could I know that?”

“Bo, exactly.” You explain, slowly pulling yourself out from your wary position.

Bokuto’s face is devoid of any understanding.

And, once again, you sigh.

He’s painfully unaware of your feelings. So, of course, you would have to be the one to make the first move.

But that’s okay because Bokuto is hopeless if not for physical demonstrations and perfectly clear explanations.

And you opt for the physical, once again.

You draw yourself toward the wide-eyed boy, still managing to keep your head ducked underneath the desk, and grasp one of his calloused hands. He looks down at the contact, baffled. You gingerly lift the other hand, tilting his chin up to meet your warm, cherry-tinted face.

He smiles but still hasn’t taken the hint.

You roll your eyes comically before leaning in with a sweet smile on your lips.

You take his lips into yours, cautiously sneaking your hand back behind his head to pull him in slightly. Bo’s reaction time intellectually may not be something to brag about… but physically? He already has you pulled into his firm chest, grinning into your unexpected kiss.

You can’t help but giggle as you pull away from your unsuspecting best friend, soon to be boyfriend.

Because this action expresses one minor detail that Bokuto may have forgotten to consider, which wordlessly states,

“Dumbass, you never even bothered to ask me if I liked you back.”

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @kaidasen, @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies

(comment or send an ask to be added to my general tag list)

#haikyuu #bokuto x reader #bokuto #bokuto kotaro #bokuto fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq #hq scenarios #hq imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #bokuto scenario #bokuto imagines #bokuto fanfiction #bokuto headcanons #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuucreations #sneezefiction

336 notes · View notes

yuzukult · 4 years ago

Text

effortlessly pt. 6 || jungkook & reader

title: effortlessly pairing: jungkook x reader genre: fluff, romance, school!au, smut (no smut in this chapter) words: ~4k notes: longer than i thought but closer to the end!! possibly 3 chapters left if i planned this right ;___; sorry for the delay! days pass by so quickly... and i’m always napping after work....

series: part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || epilogue

“Hey, you okay?”

His palms are clammy, you take note of this because the leather of his steering wheel evidently shows the residue left from the moisture on his hands. He’s anxious, it’s more than obvious, and you could potentially pinpoint the reason behind his uneasiness but you want to hear it from the man himself.

“Uh, sure. Kind of. Something along those lines.”

“You’re acting rather suspicious,” You say, paraphrasing the words he had used on you previously. “Talk to me, I’m supposed to be your best friend.”

The windows are rolled down and the sunroof is open, with the breeze flowing into the car yet you can still feel the heat of tension radiating between the two of you. He’d been silent the past couple days, head so focused and lost into just swimming during his practices, but that was all he did. Practice. Practice, practice, practice. Jungkook did it like a ritual, every single day at the same time, and performed it as if it was his religion. He hasn’t cooperated by eating enough meals during the day and although you guys didn’t share every class together, it had been apparent that he was behind on schoolwork.

He’d completely gone insane.

“So... the finals are coming up soon,” He manages to choke out, hands still tightly gripping on the steering wheel and eyes never leaving the road. He never said where the destination was when he sent you a text, prior to picking you up from your house on a Saturday afternoon, but you figured as much that he needed some time out so you complied. “And I heard that recruiters are coming. Well, rumor has it.”

“Hey, that’s great! You can finally show those guys your talents.”

“Yeah, but... what if I don’t get anything?” His voice is shaky, full of fear and angst. Although he wasn’t looking directly at you, you could tell that his chocolate orbs were mixed with ambiguity. Jungkook lived his entire life with the prospect that his dreams and aspirations were unattainable because he didn’t have the means to reach them. He lacked what many of his colleagues had— experience in competitions at a young age, training by professional coaches, and support financially from his family. He was at the bottom of the totem pole, knowingly still attempting to climb to the top despite of the downfalls, yet dismay always lingered.

The drive is quiet. The only sounds are coming from his old car, so worn out that the bumper is hanging on by duct tape. You regularly questioned Jungkook how the tape is so strong, and oddly enough, figuratively you realize that no matter how fucked up things are, you are the tape to Jungkook, who is holding onto his bumper of dreams. This situation wasn’t any different.

“Jungkook, I’m sure you’ll hear something. But even if you don’t, that doesn’t mean your journey ends there. And... you’re not alone. I’ll be with you even surpassing the end.”

It takes a moment for your response to sink in, but the edges of his mouth twist into a soft smile, your comforting words warming his heart. He feels as though he’s on top of the world when he’s with you, and it’s a reminder that nothing is out of reach if it means that you’re by his side.

Weeks later, Jungkook spends less and less time with you as time progresses on.

You’re trying to be understanding— again, emphasis on the trying, because he’s leaving classes and briskly moving straight to practices. He had made it through consolations with ease, but moving up to finals meant that the biggest competitors would be there however his colossal adversary is himself. Nonetheless, you miss your best friend, and it hadn’t been long after you’d been dating that he’s back immersed with his passions, long forgetting you. Or so, you mention dramatically.

“Why do you look so... sad?” Yura says, almost hinting disgust in her words. The two of you were out, looking for something to eat yet again, with Yura’s never ending black hole of a stomach.

“Because I haven’t hung out with Jungkook in forever.”

“You just saw him yesterday. Is this what puppy love is?” You roll your eyes at your friend, pushing her to a food stall on a street when the aromatic scents coming from the vendor invitingly enhances your senses. “No, I barely actually hung out with him. I came to his practice then he drove me home.”

Grabbing a couple sticks of fish cakes, Yura shamelessly shoves one in her mouth in one go. “What about today? I’m surprised you’re even hanging out with me despite the fact he has practice.” You frown, knowing that the guilt would eat you alive later, but you told your significant other you were ditching the one session since you’d been going back-to-back every single day. It had become a bit exhausting trying to keep up with his antics. “I... was going to go, but I’m tired. I’ve been going everyday for the past three weeks, I need a break.”

“A break from Jungkook?”

“No, not a break from Jungkook, a break from going to his practices.”

“Hmm,” She hums, cheeks full of rice cakes as you lean over and steal a stick of fish cake from her. “Well, you look hella sad. Why don’t you just tell him that you want to spend one on one time with him without the smell of chlorine in the air?”

“It’s so hard to talk to him.”

“No, you’re just being a weak ass bitch,” Yura snaps, your eyebrows raising at her choice in words. “You can tell Jungkook these things when you guys weren’t dating, why is it so different now? Because you actually care about what he thinks of you? Stop being so stupid, he loved you back then and he still loves you now.”

“OK, but won’t he think I’m too needy?” Immediately, it’s Yura’s turn to roll her eyes, groaning at your response. “Stop being one of those people! You want something, go get it. Beating around the bush doesn’t get you anywhere, yaknow.”

Yura makes a point. She always does, but like usual, you don’t let her know that.

“Did I tell you that Taehyung confessed to me?”

She coughs— nearly choking on the rice cake that she stuffs into her mouth momentarily before you mention the confession. “What the fuck— what? Kim Taehyung? The prodigy that graduated before any of us then got that wicked ass scholarship to study abroad and swim?”

“The one and only.” You remarked, taking a bite out of your food. “I rejected him, obviously. I told Jungkook about it since then, and we talked. Everything was fine, and still is fine, but I guess with the paucity of attention, it’s starting to eat me up inside and believe that it’s why he’s been ignoring me.”

“I mean, I doubt it. You rejected Taehyung. What else did the guy say?”

Fingers fiddling with the stick, you’re waving it in front of Yura’s face playfully as her eyes follow the goodness. “He just wanted me to know. I think it didn’t sit well with him if he didn’t at least try.”

“Do you think it bothers Jungkook knowing that if he didn’t confess, you’d be in the arms of the great Kim Taehyung?”

“Possibly. But he’s been so focused on swimming lately, I don’t think he even notices.”

That’s when the feeling drowns into your stomach— you know it’s not the food because it only happens when Yura mentions the words that bring your mind into overdrive. You’re overthinking now, there’s no way around it, and although you want to confront Jungkook about his new actions, you know he’d be the old him again soon after.

Your hands are equally muculent as if you’d just dipped your hands in the pool water with how much sweat you’re perspiring.

The chlorine in the air is an all too familiar feeling that you resent but yet again, you’d find yourself here frequently that the smell doesn’t quite grind your gears anymore. You’ve gotten used to it since you and Jungkook had become a thing, your love for him is a lot more indisputable and something you want to display.

He’d been giving you less attention lately, but he never fails to drop a quick peck on your lips before starting his practices. Today was different though.

Today was the finals.

You showed up in his locker room with an apple in hand and a cute little post-it note for support and motivation, and he gifts you his signature before-practice kisses, despite today being a swim meet. He’s distressed and fidgety; you’re pretty much the same. His team pats him on the back, pushing him with an inspirational chant which he lets out a laugh to—a laugh that is so nostalgic it reminds you of a time before the release date for the finals.

Sitting in the bleachers feels weird today. It’s not the bleachers at your school, for one, and two, there were just so many people in the crowd, you think Jungkook won’t be able to find you.

“Hey, if you sit here, Jungkook will be able to see you.” His name perks up your ears, turning to the owner of the assumption when you meet your eyes with Taehyung.

He looks... unfamiliar in this lighting. More mature, if you had to describe him in a word.

“Sure, I guess I could join you,” You respond, exchanging a smile with him as you settle yourself on the bleachers. The humidity in the arena was disgusting and you could almost feel your hair going insane with the frizz. But that was the least of your worries. “I’m kind of scared for Jungkook, even though I know he’s going to do fine.”

“Of course he’s going to do fine, he’s going to do better than fine. He’s Jeon Jungkook. Plus, he has us, his personal cheerleaders on the sideline for him and the rest of his team backing him up. He has all the support he needs, and he’s full of talent so he doesn’t even need luck on his side.”

You want to believe him because everything he says is true. But the word luck doesn’t sit well with you.

The introduction starts, informing the audiences what the relays would be, and a couple of the matches begin. Your brain can’t even fixate itself to watch the other players on Jungkook’s team because of how restless you are about Jungkook’s portion, but from what you hear beside you, Taehyung says that they’re all doing well.

Then it’s Jungkook’s turn.

He’s standing on the platform, dressed in his swim tights and cap, goggles in hand. Shaking to warm and loosen up his body, he looks like he’s shivering in fear. You don’t think he even takes a glance up at the crowd to find you and a bit of disappointment settles in.

Back crouched over, he’s taking in a couple breathes before preparing himself for the initial push. It’s like any other swim meet, is what he repeats in his mind but he knows that this isn’t just any swim meet. He knows that amongst the people in the crowd are recruiters, people who could determine the fate of his future, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at the sidelines. Too many emotions would sit in him and he possibly won’t even be able to swim if he did.

The whistle blows.

Jungkook dives off the platform, swimming away in freestyle mode. He’s admirable when he’s swimming, like he has all the freedom in the world without any burden on his shoulders. The words he mentions previously about his aspirations ring in your ears again. When I’m in the water, I’m floating. Floating without a care in the world, without anything pushing down on my shoulders. All I can think about is how I’m just surrounded by the water, how it sounds in my ears and how it feels on my fingertips.

Seeing him in his true happy place made you a bit envious. Envious that you didn’t find anything in close resemblance to how swimming made Jungkook feel, how you couldn’t even commit yourself to hobbies. What he said in the car weeks ago is a reminder that it’s okay for you to feel this way, that no matter what happens to you, Jungkook would always be there. There was some comfort in that.

He’s doing well, from what you can tell. He’s not overexerting himself in the water, and he’s switching between different types of strokes in order to ease the pressure off himself and quicken his speed. He’s neck and neck with his opponent, and you think nothing of it because it’s the exact scenario as some of his swim meets.

But then— you’re unsure what happens. It’s a moment of hesitation, possibly, but his opponent does one last push and he makes it.

Jungkook won second place.

It’s hard to tell exactly how he’s feeling. His eyes that once were bursting with excitement and happiness were filled with despair and anger yet his voice is calm and soft when he speaks to his teammates.

He doesn’t even look directly at you and you feel a certain way, but you don’t let that feeling eat you up inside knowing he’s upset with his performance.

The car ride is utterly quiet. So quiet that you don’t even hear the engine of the car sputter or roar during the drive, almost like even the car could feel the tension in the air.

“Jeon, you okay?” You barely say, voice as quiet as a mouse squeaking. He’s like a ticking time bomb at this point, and there’s uncertainty on what can detonate his anger.

He doesn’t respond for a couple minutes for exasperating a long and heavy sigh. “You already know the answer to your question. What’s the point of even asking? It’s a waste of breath.”

“Hey, you won second though. That should take account for something. You did well, I’m sure you’ll be okay.”

“Are you definitely sure?” He snaps. His tone is harsh and the volume is increased a bit but you brush it off thinking it was an impulsive decision on his end to respond that way.

“Of course I am.”

“Listen, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t have dreams that just got ruined. Your goals don’t even exist for that— this swim meet was my chance to show those recruiters what I’m capable of. These were the fucking finals! I could be living the way Taehyung is, training for my life, given a coach that actually has the ability to show me tricks and tips that ours couldn’t.”

This... wasn’t the Jungkook you’ve come to know and admire. His aspirations were eating him alive, and for a brief moment, he’d abandoned the love he had for swimming, and just swimming alone, the only thoughts flooding his mind was winning finals. Swim meets weren’t even his favorite thing, he’d only did them because they were stepping stones to continue swimming and to do it as a career.

You push the tears back from brimming in your eyes, arms slipping into your jacket in preparation to get out the car. “Yeah, no, you’re right. I’m just some lost chick who stood in the bleachers, so dumbfounded and blinded by your love and affection. I won’t understand because I never will, I don’t have those passions or goals like you do.”

“Wait—“ Glancing over at you and before he can finish and say your name, you sling your backpack over your shoulder. “Stop the car. I can walk home or grab an Uber.”

“I was just mad in the moment—“

“You said what you said, and you meant it. I’ve been trying to be patient, but I’ve had enough. Stop the car, Jungkook.”

Abiding by your instruction, he pulls over to the shoulder of the road, turning to look at your expression. His face didn’t shone in antagonism anymore but that same fear he had before he went in for his swim meet earlier.

“Where are you going?” He says, voice wary. “Don’t go.”

“Home,” You respond abruptly and sharply, unlocking the seatbelt that embraces you before opening the door. “I can walk myself home. Don’t follow or wait up for me.”

He doesn’t comply with those orders though. Instead, as you’re walking on the sides of the street, he trails behind you silently, understandingly giving you your space despite the fact he didn’t want to. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and apologize. Apologize for letting his anger get to him, saying things to you that he didn’t mean.

Cars are beeping behind him, cursing and sticking their middle fingers up at Jungkook as they go around him, but he could care less. His day has gone so far down— potentially losing the love of his life and the route of his career.

Finally reaching to the front of your houses, he watches as you enter in as he makes his way into his own. Once he reaches his room, he quickly attempts to get your attention from his window. Jungkook figured, even when you’re mad, you couldn’t resist seeing his cute face from across the little space between your houses.

Excited with a smile on his face, he peeks through the glass, only to see that you’d already closed the window and dropped the blinds. His smile dissipates within seconds.

Jungkook concludes he’d let you calm down for the night and try again tomorrow.

The sun peers through his blinds, and shone on his face as he grunts in displeasure. His body is sore from the amount of practices and the swim meet from the day before, but nothing in comparison to the thought of hurting you.

His phone rings and almost immediately, he jumps out of his bed, still in his boxer briefs and without hesitation, he exclaims a “hi!” without checking the caller ID. Once he realizes that the voice on the other line doesn’t belong to you, his enthusiasm sizzles out.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

“Ah, yes. That’s me. Can I ask who’s calling?”

“I’m one of the recruiters that came to your swim meet yesterday. I’m so sorry for not getting to meet you afterwards, I’ve been so swamped in my personal life, I didn’t get the chance. Do you have a moment to speak?”

#jungkook #gyukultfics #jungkook fics #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fanfic #bts fics #jungkook x reader #jungkookxreader #jungkook and reader #reader #jungkookxyou #jungkook x you #bts smut #jungkook smile #wassup yall

314 notes · View notes