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theficplug · 4 years ago

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Can I Come Home {Atticus (lovecraft country) Fic}

Atticus Freeman x Black Reader

Warnings: smut (21+)

(Ayida-Weddo is a loa of fertility, rainbows, wind, water, fire, and snakes)

(Atticus wants to come home after his little adventures. Reader isn’t having it.)

The incessant knocking at your door pulled you out of your concentration on rolling the last bit of your hair. It had been a week of perms and presses. You were more than ready to listen to your vinyls and relax by yourself away from the troubles of whatever was going on in this hell of a country.

The person at the other end of this door had other plans for you apparently and as an adventurous woman living alone you weren’t about to take any chances.

You grab the small pistol out of your brown fur coat on the rack and closed your eyes as your fingertips begin to spark little flames.

As you slowly creak the door open, Tic lowers his glasses and his face comes into view.

You let out a deep sigh of relief as you lower the pistol to the ground and the fire simmered down.

“BOY! You play too much knocking on my damn door at this hour of the night! I almost blew your ass clean to Mississippi, Atti ! I figured you’d drag yourself here after you finished parading around God knows where else with Miss Letitia Fucking Lewis.” you say reluctantly unlatching your screen door to look at your ex boyfriend face to face.

Even in the moonlight you could still see the bronze glow cascading from his sculpted cheeks, to his beautiful broad nose, and down to his cupids bow. He was standing there biting at his plump bottom lip nervously while awaiting you.

“Whoa . HEY. HEY . HEY!” He yelled with his hands up as he ducked down.

“Now, baby look, i-” Tic stammers across his words trying to plead his case as you press the cold bottle of Cola to your reddened lips as you give him the cold shoulder.

You shook your head and closed your eyes to summon snakes around his ankles as he hopped side to side kicking off the illusions.

“Town is small, Atti. Everybody talks. A postcard to know that your knucklehead ass is still alive would’ve been nice. But to hear from Betty with the uneven bob at the salon that you’re back in town running around with Leti of all people. You know good and well we haven’t seen eye to eye since junior high. I know we broke up but that don’t mean you had to disappear on me like that. Your triflin behind ain't no good Atti-. Why are you even here?” You ask him pointedly instead of going off on your tangent.

The audacity of him to show up after months of barely 3 postcards from him and a few dodgy and quick calls in the middle of night spewing all types of things about monsters and shapeshifters and both kinds of wizards.

He grabs you gently around the arms and presses a soft kiss to your lips while holding your chin between his fingers.

“Just wanted to see you, that’s all.” He says simply in that tone he uses when he wants you to let him inside. Granted, you knew you were gonna let him inside and come inside but you wanted to watch him sweat.

“I should summon rain over your head...You hungry?”

After huffing and puffing you decide to ease the screen door open fully so that he could embrace you properly.

You turn your head and his kiss lands on your cheek instead. His gaze fell upon you intensely as he caressed over your cheek where his lips had been moments before. Atticus’s gaze falls from your warm oak coloured eyes to your neck, to your collarbones, and down further where your robe was slightly open and the neckline of your silk red gown had fallen lower.

You lean in to breathe into his long black coat. The Chanel Pour Monsieur that you gifted to him before he left for the war evaded your senses. You hiss softly before smiling against him, feeling his large calloused and frigid hands run up the back of your thighs to cup under your butt and lift you onto him.

“What, you run around all summer and come back here in the winter when you're cold and lonely and realize that she wasn’t gon’ stick around? Is that it? Your summer fling is back on the road?” you question with a huff and a roll of your eyes.

He chuckles deeply and shakes his head as he walks with you still wrapped around him into your small quiet little cozy candlelit home with Ella Fitzgerald , These Foolish Things playing softly in the background.

“Town talk goes both ways, baby. I heard you were playing backseat bingo with Martin Thompson, the preacher? Really?” he questions as he licks over your neck and jawline pressing kisses along the way.

“And what is there for a lonely young woman to do when her man writes her a letter trying to rationalize falling in love with a goddamn ninetail fox. I saw Letitia coming. Seen that a mile away. I knew there would be women and men along the way for us. But, a fox, well baby you had me beat on that one. A descendant of Ayida-Weddo herself wasn’t enough? Bible Boy was good to me. He would make sure I made it home safe and sound every night from the shop. Bought me that fur coat and everything.” you say and he drops his head with a chagrined expression.

Atticus sits you down on your own two feet and looks at you for a moment. Both of his hands on your hips.

“And what did you do for him, hmm?” He asks tracing his hands over the ties of your robe letting it fall open in one swoop.

“You really wanna know?” You scoff and swat at his hands for asking such a witless and invasive question.

“I’m sorry, baby.” he whispers before lowering to his knees. He places one of your shea butter lathered feet in his hand kissing it softly before moving to the other.

Atticus wraps his strong arms around your waist and kisses your belly button.

You push his mouth from suckling open mouth kisses onto your clothed mound and saunter away from him and over to the record player.

You search through the collection until you reach Big Mama Thornton. You laugh to yourself as “Hound Dog” starts to echo throughout the room.

“You’re ever the jokester ain’t you?” Atticus says with a laugh of his own as you sway your hips to the music and dance over to him.

“Dance with me” you call out to him as he comes up behind you and you gasp at the feeling of how hard he is just from caressing you moments before.

He meets your movements grinding with a shimmy of his own as he matches your movements of doing the twist and you sway your hips flush against him. His hands ghost against your thighs again and up your body. He takes note that you’re not wearing anything under your silk nightgown.

Atticus caresses over your breasts carefully massaging over the almond coloured buds as you let out a soft moan and place your hands over his.

You turn your head to kiss him again this time less innocently than before as you guide his hands in yours and slide them down your body while never losing the beat of the song.

Goosebumps begin to pepper your skin and your breath hitches as his hands settle between your thighs. He brings his fingers to his mouth before moving between your legs again.

Atticus’s nails drag softly up your left thigh as he grips it and brings you closer to feel how he’s already hardening for you. You ride his hand for a moment trying to control your temperature that’s already too high for the average human body.

The flames of the candles dance as your excitement and wetness heightens and you tap against his thigh to warn him.

He laughs deeply as he works over your clit skillfully and methodically. “I remember” he says simply and your eyes roll back as you utter the word “out” assertively.

All of the candles burn out instantly and you revel in the feeling of his fingers treating your body and your flower like a Shenzhen Nongke Orchid.

“You’re two seconds away from making me nut in my trousers like we’re back in your dorm all over again.” he mumbles while nipping at your neck and your deep dark chestnut eyes slowly fade to a golden hue to a soft glow of scarlett red.

You nod giving him your consent as you lay over the couch. You wiggle your ass in the air , knowing that he’s watching while working his boxers down too.

He slowly works his way into you before slowly pulling out and watching his member glisten fully saturated by your nectar as he works his length up and down you before entering you again.

The little gasp you let out echoed through the room and the candles were lit again momentarily with the flames dancing around as you bury your face into the couch pillow.

He gripped your hips firmly bringing you back and down onto him as his other hand gripped your silk gown.

“Mhmmm, hmmph.” was all that left Atticus’s mouth as he sinks into your warmth the second time.

“Careful. Slowly, I don’t want to hurt you.” you rasp as he circles his hips finding the right rhythm for both of you as the little pants and shrieks fall from your lips when he pushes deeper into the right spot.

“All the times I’ve made love to you and you haven’t hurt me once. I won’t mention the time you singed off one of my eyebrows though. That was my fault, I shouldn’t have tried to wake you up like that.” he soothes as he moves your silk gown up further to massage over your back and cheeks.

His large hands soothing over and kneading the knots and kinks from standing on your feet most days doing countless amounts of roller sets and bang cuts.

“I know.” you whisper to him with a small laugh of your own. You drop your head slightly and arch your back when his hips finally rests flushed against your cheeks.

Your mouth goes slack as he picks up his pace but then pulls out.

“What the hell was that?” you question as you turn to face him.

“Just wanted to see that’s all. Wanna look at this pretty face all glossy eyed and reciting my name like a poem.” he teases as he leans in to connect his lips to yours again, this time letting his tongue glide over your bottom lip until you’re suckling it softly.

He’s massaging his dick against you slowly as you pout and huff against his lips. Your legs begin to shake slightly and you can feel yourself heating up more.

“Shh shh shh, what do you want? Use your words.” he asks as his fingertips ghost over your breasts up to the sides of your face. The chill of his hands feeling like bursts of fresh air against you.

Atticus lifts you once more to set you on the edge of the couch, his fingers tracing over your inner thighs.

“You’re really going to tease me after I’ve already waited months to feel you. I really don’t want to get Martin to finish the job especially when you have the best d-” you let out a muffled moan as he places his fingers into your mouth and thrust into you again.

You suckle his fingers, envisioning something else much bigger as he leans you on the edge of the couch and gives you what you’ve been missing for months.

Resting your forehead on his shoulder you close your eyes enjoying the feeling of being full of him.

You can feel him twitching inside of you as you begin to work down onto him, bouncing and coating his dick with you.

You caress your own body letting your hand wander to your clit , skillfully massaging as Atticus watches on.

Both of your moans and sounds of him pounding into you flows with the music as you both cry out into each other’s mouths as your orgasm rocks through you both.

Your fireplace goes out abruptly as you throw your head back and let out little uh uh mhhmmms.

Atticus leans down to place tender kisses between your breasts as he cums inside.

You slowly continue your rhythm riding out the little waves of aftershock as his hips stutter and he lets his own praises of you fall from his lips this time.

He slowly pulls out and swipes his thumb over next to your lips trying to fix your lipstick.

“Leave it, I was getting ready for a shower and the bed anyways. . . I’m sorry Atti.” you say to him softly as your fingertips trace his soft skin now donning a purple deep burgundy colour after being pressed against you for so long.

“You’ve made me feel the best I've felt all damn year. You ain't got a thing to be sorry for. I’m the one that came to apologize. I was just too bullheaded to realise that everything isn’t about just me. I regretted it the moment I got there. . The war. Ji-Ha. You finding out about Leti the way you did. It wasn’t like that in the beginning. I was supposed to go off and figure all out on my own. Somewhere down the line after you see enough crazy shit together. Things get all mixed up.. I’m sorry for all of that too. I just wanna come home. Tired of all these things that don’t make no sense when everything that makes perfect sense has been here the whole time.” he explains and you nod along listening to his words, mulling them over.

“Well you definitely scared the shit outta me… I checked that mailbox everyday for months waiting for a letter from you. And I think whatever you were searching for out there scared the shit outta you too. I think all of this made us both realise that we don’t really wanna be without each other..But next time if you’re gonna go off, play detective, and uncover some great family mystery,the smartest decision would be to take the walking fireball with you. Yeah? And who’s Christina? ” you ask him as he carries you off with him towards your bathroom.

“The dreams. I was wondering why I kept seeing snakes every day for a week. I ain't going nowhere. It’s gon’ take me all weekend just to explain all the shit I’ve seen in the last 6 months as it is-”

(not my best but i still hope yall enjoy! i’m knocking the writing rust off after a few weeks of not writing new stuff. seasonal depressive be hitting different. alright my boos x )

#lovecraft country #atticus freeman #jonathan majors #fanfic for black girls #lovecraft country fic

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that-wimpy-cowboy-doll · 4 years ago

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Happy Valentine’s Day @journal-of-an-outlaw! I was your @rdr-secret-cupid this year :) I hope you enjoy the fluffy smut below! (I’m sorry if they’re a bit OOC, I haven’t played enough RDO to enjoy the Moonshiner route yet :P)

Summary: After getting into yet another scrape, Anastasia finds herself unable to put words to the feelings she gets from the man whose arms she always ends up in. Lem always enjoys dancing with her to the band, but when they can finally be alone, Anna gets the chance to show him, rather than tell him, how she feels.

Some might say I talk loud, see if I care Unlike them, I don’t walk away from my fear I’ve busted bones, broken stones, looked the devil in the eye I hope he’s going to break these chains, oh yeah - “Broken Bones” by Kaleo

And I’ll always love you but I don’t have to sing it “For worse or for better” don’t rhyme They say I got the right one so now I should write one But I’d rather just show you tonight - “I Hate Love Songs” by Kelsea Ballerini

“This, uh...might sting.”

Anna sucked in a sharp breath as Lem trickled the thin stream of shine over her split knuckles. It was another fight, it always was, and as often as her mouth and her fists got her into trouble, this one had felt more righteous than most.

The Lemoyne Raiders had had it out for Maggie since they’d first heard her name, the weight she had in the shine business. Anastasia couldn’t tell whether it’d been luck, or fortune, maybe destiny that had led her to them in the saloon on the outskirts of Rhodes. Each was about twice her size, but like the old saying went, the drunker they were the harder they fell. Besides, she’d needed to let off some steam these days. Do something that made her feel free, now that she could fly without the looming cloud of Hixon and his men.

And this...thing that she and Lem had been pussyfooting around the last few weeks.

“Who was it this time?” he said flatly, dabbing at the delicate scraped skin of her fist. She wanted him to look at her, offering a grim smile to Roy, the feller who played the banjo at the shack on weekends. Fuck, that was right, it was Friday. The rest of the band was due any minute.

“Raiders. Usual jackass sort. Caught ‘em badmouthin’ Maggie, eyeballin’ me, like they knew she brought me in.” She could feel the calluses of Lem’s hand wrapped around her wrist, on the pads of his fingertips while he finished patching her wound.

“You know, you - you don’t need to swing on every feller looks at you the wrong way, Anna,” Lem sighed, letting his cup of shine clink softly on the table. He glanced over her shoulder to nod at the line of musicians trailing in. There was something exhausted in his face, like her tiredness was catching. It was her, she knew. She knew her mouth moved faster than her brains, and her fists faster still than her mouth.

Anastasia moved to pull her hands away from Lem’s, straightening in her seat and bringing her drink to her lips. “I should get behind the bar. Folk are going to start showin’ up.”

But he reached for her still, leaning forward a little. “Ain’t anybody here yet - even so, that feller you hired, Gil, Gil what’s-his-name - he’s got a handle on it.” His blue eyes shone in the dim lamp light burning overhead; his thumbs were tracing tender circles over the places on her hands not marked by bruises. “Dance with me. While the band warms up.”

She was still jittery from the fight, her hair loose and messy, a little wild with the adrenaline shooting through her veins. But now her heart was fluttering madly beneath her chest, screaming in her ribcage. Something warm and heavy lived in her throat, making the words creak as they slipped from between her lips: “Y-yeah, okay.”

He guided her firm but gentle away from their little table by the bar, into the center of the wooden floor across from where Roy and his boys had set up. She gave a little start when he held her by the waist, sliding her right hand on top of his left. For someone usually so headstrong and assured of herself, having Lem hold her, touch her this way, so solemn and so gentlemanlike, Anna felt like she was liable to turn to jelly on the spot.

The band picked up at Shifty Simon the Pianist’s count, something moody and slow she hadn’t heard them play often. Somewhere in the back of her head, Anastasia was aware of Gil serving someone at the bar, but when Lem lifted her arm to turn her in a steady circle, his eyes meeting hers in the low, warm light of the shack, his body so near to hers seemed to hold up the weight of the world.

“You are a hot head,” he whispered, his slick, sweet breath tickling the shell of her ear. A jolt flickered to life in Anna’s stomach. “A h-hotheaded, stubborn, impossible...wonderful woman.” He was smiling against her, she could tell, the playful curve of his voice. “And you’re gonna be the death of me, I swear it. Bruised knuckles...”

“Lem - ” She cleared her throat, blinking glassily up at him. “I - I don’t - ”

“That’s alright.” He took her chin between his thumb and index finger, like he was studying her from between those soft, long lashes of his. The air around him - around them - seemed still, separate from the rest of the shack. She realized a half a beat too late that now they’d slowed their dancing, that he was holding her more than he was moving, and she was letting herself be held. “You - you don’t gotta say nothin’.”

“I want to,” she muttered, her eyes dropping from his, her hands tight near his collar. “Lem, you know I ain’t as good at...at tellin’ you, but I…”

“It’s okay.” His thumb brushed the plump curve of her lower lip, he was close enough now that she could practically taste the whiskey on his mouth, the light sprinkling of freckles on his cheeks looking soft beneath the buzz of the bulbs above them. “You here, with me...that’s all I need.”

It was all she needed, too, his arms around her, until the customers began to trickle in and the band picked up. She knew that Gil couldn’t handle so many of the regulars like she could, so, painstakingly, she pulled out of Lem’s arms with a whispered apology and what felt like a daring kiss to his cheek, before making her way back to the bar.

“You’se in head over heels, girl,” Gil said under his breath between pours, his mustache bristling with the smile that played across his lips. “Best snatch that boy up, on account of he’s head over heels for you, too.”

“Shuddup, Gil,” Anna chuckled back, her cheeks going warm, but poured them each a drink, too.

Lem stayed until closing, returning to the bar to order himself a drink, and a dinner, and to fiddle with the bowls of almonds that Anna and Gil set out, not taking his hand away when Anna reached out to bat him playfully, instead catching her fingers between his and running his thumb across her palm until another customer came to ask for their next glass of shine. Anna declared last call just after midnight, but thankfully most of her patrons looked as dead on their feet as she felt, clambering toward the door with wilting smiles on their faces. Roy and the rest of the band packed up while she and Gil got to cleaning, Lem helping even when she shooed him and insisted he didn’t need to wait for her.

“I think I’m gon’ bank my hours,” Gil announced, wearing far too smug a smirk in Anastasia’s humble opinion, while there was still the sweeping to be done. “You two stay outta trouble now, I’ll see y’all t’morrah.”

“N-night, Gil,” Lem called over his shoulder, already making his way toward the broom and the dustpan.

Anna counted out the cash she owed the band, pressing the bills into each member’s hand. “Thanks, y’all. We’ll see you soon?”

Roy returned her smile and offered her a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Not a moment too soon. You take care now, alright, Miss Brooks?”

“You, too, Roy.”

She shut and locked the front door behind Shifty Simon, who nodded at Lem’s back and winked before she waved him off, rolling her eyes with a smile that wouldn’t drop off her lips. The shack felt suddenly a lot smaller with just the two of them in it, Lem Fike dutifully sweeping away the last of the grime from her floorboards, the muscles of his strong shoulders bunching the rolled sleeves of his union suit.

It was hard for her to tell him how she felt, she knew that much. But she could show him.

She slunk her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to the flat of his back between his shoulder blades. He smelled of linen and booze and sweat, but something about the scent felt more like home than she’d inhaled in years. She could tell he was smiling, he liked it when she touched him, and he turned around with her still touching him, bringing his rough hands up tenderly to frame her face.

“Hey,” she whispered, lost in the soft echoes of his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered back, his gentle touch wandering down the slopes of her shoulders, coming to rest at the small of her back. His forehead brushed hers before their lips met, and then she was lost, her heart thrumming wildly in her chest, her teeth grazing against his lower lip, his stubble a sharp contrast from the slow and steady way he was touching her, kissing her.

Anna stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck, press her chest against his. So he might feel the way her heart seemed to beat through her skin, stumbling around her ribcage to reach for him. Her hands were skimming through his hair, pulling him close, her tongue dragging across the chapped skin of his lower lip, and then against his tongue in turn.

Lem was grabbing her by the waist, nudging her backwards, pulling back at long last to press his lips to her pulse point. Anna couldn’t help the high, keening moan that slipped from her throat into the thick spring bayou air above them.

“Y’know I n-need you,” Lem murmured, and she could almost feel the rapid beating of his heart, too, his breath stammering on her skin. His knee slid between hers, her hands were scrunching at his collar, scrabbling to get him bare, shed everything that was keeping them apart.

“Need you, too.” Anna popped the buttons of his shirt, shoving his suspenders off. “Can tell you a lot better like this…”

“Fuck, Anna…” He leaned his head back while she kissed her way down his bare chest, leaving a love bite at the patch of skin above his heart. It was utterly filthy, the noises he was making, and then the feel of him releasing the tension that seemed to live in his shoulders while she made her way down his front, her hands slipping beneath the front of his pants.

With a whispered “this okay?” she stroked him long and slow when he nodded. She backed him up toward the nearest table, pushing gently so that he’d finally lean back onto it, pulling her with him. He fell into the spot gripping her by the hips, and then peeling the buttons open of her shirt, too, weighing her breasts in the palms of his hands.

She groaned as he dragged his thumbs across her nipples, her stomach twisting with want. He met her eyes, a small and mischievous smile passing his lips before she squeezed him just a little, Lem leaning back and slipping his hands down to the buttons on her pants. Anna broke away from him to shrug out of the shirt he’d loosed and kick her pants off onto the floor. He took her nakedness in with hunger in his gaze and reached for her hips once more.

“Can I…” She flickered her eyes down to his cock between them, her teeth baring down greedily on her lower lip.

“Yeah, God, Anna,” Lem mumbled, his thumbs pressing hard into her hips, drawing her as close as he could. She slunk down onto him carefully, cautiously, letting him part her where she needed him, filling her to the hilt.

“Fuck, Lem…” Her hands were on his shoulders, trying to gain purchase, her knees rubbing against the tabletop. His hands were large, warm, rough on her waist, holding her firm and steady while he let himself buck upward into her.

Anna made love to Lem messily, sloppily, tangling her fingers in his hair and drawing his moans out of him like honey from a hive, her lips and teeth desperate to cling to him as much as she could, until she forgot that they were only connected, until she forgot that he’d ever been apart from her in the first place.

The great wave of bliss rolled over her starting with the tips of her toes and tiding its way upward, until all she saw was white with his mouth pressed to her collarbone, his cock throbbing inside her, his calluses catching roughly on the sensitive bud of her nipple.

She gasped a little, love-drunk and a bit giddy, when he got his feet beneath him, sweeping her onto her back on her table, in her bar, and pressed a very stubbly kiss to the sensitive flesh of her neck while he rolled his hips flush against hers. He was close, she knew, those blazing blue eyes boring down into hers.

“Anna…” he was breathing, his lips curling around her name like a prayer, and then he was kissing her again, groaning against her mouth while he pulled out to come on her stomach, his forehead dropping to hers while his chest rose and fell with hard, sharp pants.

Lem stood looking like Anna felt, the tiniest bit dizzy, bashful, blushing while he groped about for a spare rag to clean himself up with. “I’m sorry, I - I hope I didn’t hurt you, I - ”

“Jesus H. Mahogany Christ, Lem Fike,” Anna giggled - giggled! - and sat up, wiping the small dew of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, remembering her sore knuckles. “I oughta get in more fights if that’s what comes of it.”

When he thought she wasn’t paying attention, he grabbed her by the thighs, sliding her back toward him across the table, and leaned in for another kiss. “Don’t you dare, Miss Brooks.”

#red dead redemption #red dead online #lemuel fike #lem fike #anastasia brooks #anna brooks #journal of an outlaw #red dead secret cupid

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johaerys-writes · 4 years ago

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Playground Love, Chapter 10: Wilted Wildflowers

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Aran Trevelyan/Tristan Trevelyan

Summary:

Aran and Tristan are childhood friends. Best friends. Brothers, almost. They’ve been inseparable since the moment they met, one rainy autumn day underneath the maple tree in the school playground.

Best friends don’t fall in love with each other. Surely not.

The new chapter of mine and @oftachancer’s collaborative fic, featuring her OC Aran and my OC Tristan is up! Where being in love with your best friend turns out to be more complicated than initially thought, and Tristan would very much like to make sense of it all now, please.

Read more on AO3!

****

The wind whipped through Tristan’s hair as his bike rushed down the steep slope. The warmth of summer was waning, but a sweet, mellow breeze still lingered. It smelt of salt and sea.

The polo coach had let them go an hour earlier than expected- Tristan hadn’t even stopped to change out of his riding clothes before setting off for Aran’s house. He hadn’t seen Aran since the day before and he already missed him. Which was to be expected, he supposed. With every day that passed, he missed him more and more, wanted to see more of him, hear more. Touch more. Ever since that time Aran had stayed at his for the night…

Tristan felt his cheeks warming. They hadn’t talked much, since that day. It was more so because they’d both been busy, he told himself; Tristan’s first polo match of the season was coming up, and Aran had more than enough assignments to occupy him. Yet, the fact that Tristan’s last few texts had gone unanswered, and that the only response he’d received from Aran to the poem he'd sent him the previous night was a meme of a dog rolling on its back did not help very much. Tristan had spent the better part of an hour combing through his books to find that poem, and he’d picked it just for him. Aran could have at least chosen a better meme to send him. At least.

He frowned, squinting against the bright sunlight when the wooden fence that circled the ranch came into view. The outer gate was ajar, Max’s truck stopped right before it. Aran’s eldest brother was tall and broad of shoulder, the skin of his forehead bronzed from the sun, his golden hair cropped short. He smiled brightly at him when he saw him getting off his bike.

“Tristan!” he greeted him cheerfully as he loaded a square bale of hay on the back of the truck. “Give me a hand with this, will you?”

Tristan returned his wide smile with a more reserved one of his own before inclining his head politely. He disliked touching the hay. It made his skin itch. Still, he set his bike against the fence and helped him haul the last of the bales, stacking them neatly against each other. He gingerly drew his kerchief from his back pocket to wipe his hands when he was done, watching as Max lifted and secured the truck’s tailgate.

“How’s Almond? Is she treating you well?”

“She’s doing great. Yes, she’s wonderful. A delight, really. She and I placed first in the show jumping trials two months ago, did Aran tell you?”

“That he did. I had no doubts. She’s a fine mare, one of the finest we’ve bred. We wouldn’t give you just anything, eh?” He laughed heartily and patted Tristan on the shoulder. “I’m off now. Your pal’s up at the house. Don’t keep him waiting.”

“Okay. Thanks, Max.” Tristan got on his bike, waving as the truck drove off. He pedalled leisurely down the long gravel drive, then brought the bike to a stop when he reached the flower garden before the house. It was Aran’s mom’s work, and the rose bushes were neatly trimmed and fragrant this time of year. Patrick was lounging on one of the floral padded armchairs on the front porch, his long legs sprawled on the low table. Tristan’s stomach tightened when Patrick lifted his gaze from his phone to look at him. His eyes were the same hue as Aran’s, summer sky blue, but they had none of the warmth, or the kindness.

“Trevelyan,” he said flatly, his expression wooden and thoroughly unimpressed.

“Patrick.” Tristan straightened his back, returning his look levelly. “Is Aran home?”

The older boy regarded him in silence for a few moments - moments that Tristan stood there awkwardly, trying his best to look as bored and mildly bothered as he- before standing up with a long suffering sigh and walking to the door. “Wait here,” he commanded, then disappeared inside the house.

Tristan itched his earlobe as he waited, released and re-gathered his hair, studied the red clapboard and the sloped black roof of the house. It wasn’t a large building, but it was homely. The warm scent of the roast they had for lunch reached him with the passing breeze. Tristan never spent too much time there, and neither did Aran, if he could help it. Still, he liked it when Aran’s mum came out and offered him a biscuit or something else she’d made whenever he came to pick Aran up. She wasn’t much of a baker or a cook, but she was always nice to him. He hadn’t seen her in a while.

Muffled talk from inside drew his attention. It sounded rough and agitated, but Tristan couldn’t discern who was talking, or what they were saying. A man’s low rumble, then a woman’s voice- was that Aran’s mum? The voices grew louder and sharper, but the steady buzz from the TV rendered it impossible to make out any words. Patrick’s voice knifed cleanly through it as he said something that sounded much like his usual insults, though Tristan couldn’t tell who it was directed at.

He thought he heard the shuffling of feet coming closer to the front door, then what definitely sounded like pushing and shoving. Tristan’s ears pricked up when he heard Aran’s telltale high pitched infuriated snarl, followed by Patrick’s mocking laugh. His temper flared by instinct; he set his bike down and took a decisive step forward, when the door was flung open and a red-faced Aran stormed out.

“Aran-”

“Let’s just go,” Aran snapped, grabbing his bike that was leaning against the steps of the porch and promptly taking off. Tristan followed him silently as he took off at dead speed. They didn’t exchange a word until they were well away, past the farm and the apple orchard beyond it, until the lake’s still waters were visible, glittering in the distance. It was more of a large pond than a lake, really, and he and Aran often went there when the weather was good. It was usually quiet and peaceful, and that day was no different. Only a paddling of brown backed mallards glided on the water, the iridescent green feathers on their long necks catching the light as they moved.

Aran tossed his bike aside as soon as he dismounted, letting it fall to the soft grass. Tristan set his own down beside it, then came to stand next to him at the pond’s bank. He was tense and wired, a string ready to snap. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his nostrils flaring with every panting breath he let out.

“Hi.”

Aran dropped to his knees and buried his head in the water, loosing a scream that echoed through the still surface and sent the ducks skittering into flight. He sat up, shoving his wet hair from his face and stared at the ripples as they receded. “Hi,” he panted in answer, scrubbing at the water dripping from his nose, leaving a smudge of mud in its place. “How was practice?”

Tristan shrugged, "Good. I stole the ball from Johnston and he chased me down the field while the others cheered. Coach didn't like that very much." He slid his hands in his pockets and rocked a little back and forth on his heels. "How's the water?"

“Warm. You want to swim?” The fresh mud in his hair made a handful of it stand out to the side. “I could swim.” He rubbed his nose on the back of his arm. “Something wrong? You usually don’t finish until later, right?”

"Coach said he had to pick up his daughter from the dentist's. Dunno. I think he was just sick of Jonhston and me taking the piss so he let us go early." There were fat drops of muddy water running down Aran's forehead and into his eyes, and he rubbed at them, sniffing and wrinkling his nose. Tristan smiled despite himself as he reached for his handkerchief. "Come over here," he said, drawing him close to wipe the mud from his cheeks, the side of his nose. Then he cupped his neck and leaned down to steal a kiss. "Missed you," he murmured against his lips.

“I missed you, too!” Aran wrapped his arms around him tight, “I hope your match is worth it. Endless bloody practices. Can’t you just win and be done with it?” He tugged him towards the tree. “Best two out of three for all the marbles. Kiss me again.”

The pond water had left a slightly bitter aftertaste on Aran's tongue, but Tristan kissed him eagerly as he let himself be drawn to him. "We will win. But then we'll just have to practice more to keep up, and then win more matches, and even more practice..." He closed his teeth over Aran's bottom lip, pressing him back against the tree trunk. "As if it would make a difference to you," he said sulkily. "You hardly ever respond to my texts anyway. If I hadn't come today, you would have forgotten all about me."

“You’ve caught me,” he snorted. “I’m always forgetting you. Thank the Maker I see you all the time or I’d be lost.” His fingers were slick with mud and chilled from pond water when they slipped up beneath Tristan’s jersey. “Remind me, eh?”

"Yes, but-" Tristan shivered as the cool, pesky fingers travelled up his stomach, caressing his sides. He sighed, kissing Aran deeply, forgetting everything he'd been about to say. So what if Aran hadn't responded to a text or two, or if he replied to his poems with dog memes? He still wanted him. He'd still missed him. Every smile, every touch, every smooth glide of his tongue over his own pushed Tristan's thoughts and worries further and further back in his mind. It was good, what they had. No doubt about it. "Wait," he said, drawing back. He laughed at Aran's confused stare as he unslung his backpack. "I brought something." The small bouquet of wildflowers he had gathered on his way to Aran's house was slightly wilted, despite his best attempts to keep the blossoms from getting bruised during his bike ride. Even so, he held it proudly before Aran's face, beaming. "For you."

Aran leaned back against the trunk, blinking down at the flowers. “Okay.” He itched his nose with his knuckle. “...what am I supposed to do with this?”

Tristan's smile melted away. He stared at Aran, the warm fuzzy feeling he'd had only moments before turning sour in his stomach with every second that passed and Aran made no move to take the flowers. "You… you don't like it?"

“I mean-” He squinted, taking the flowers with a skeptical look. “Now what? What’s the game?”

"There is no game." Tristan frowned, "You're supposed to keep them. Or- I don't know, set them aside and take them with you before we leave, or-"

“Are they medicinal?” he asked, peering down at them with sudden curiosity. “Something you read about?” He plucked at a leaf and nibbled at it.

"No, they're not- I just passed them by and thought they were pretty, and-" He stopped abruptly when he felt his cheeks growing uncomfortably hot. "You don't have to keep them if you don't want them, of course," he said indignantly. "I simply thought- it doesn't matter what I thought." He crossed his arms before his chest, looking away.

“Sure it does.” Aran stuck his tongue out, spitting the nibbles of leaves out. “Thanks for showing me. They’re pretty. Could have just shown me where you found them.” He tilted the flowers to the side, peering at them. “You didn’t have to kill them.” He wiggled the flowers at Tristan, chuckling, “Too pretty to live!”

"I didn't kill them- Maker-" Tristan swatted the flowers away, scowling at him. "Just forget about it, alright? It was a stupid idea anyway." He turned around, pacing towards the pond. It had been a stupid, stupid idea. Whatever had he been thinking. It had seemed like a nice thing to do at the time, when he'd stopped to pick up the flowers and arrange the bouquet. A romantic gesture, something- something boyfriends did. Cardew gave Martina flowers all the time, and she always laughed and threw her arms around his neck, but Aran wasn't Martina. And Tristan wasn't Cardew, and what they had wasn't- He took a deep breath, chewing on the inside of his lip. "Just forget it."

“This one tastes pretty good.” A sprig of the white tufted flowers wiggled in front of his face. “Like almonds. You like almonds.”

"I don't like almonds," he mumbled petulantly. He glanced at Aran over his shoulder, "And you don't like these flowers."

“I do. I do like them.” He took a mouthful of the white flowers, crunching them, grinning like a goat. “See. Delicious. Now Tristan chaser.”

Tristan laughed, shaking his head. He hated that Aran could always make him laugh, even when he was mad. "I'm not kissing you with those things in your mouth." He took the flowers from Aran's hand, or whatever was left of them, anyway. "And you're not supposed to eat them, you know."

“I didn’t know that. I asked what I was supposed to do with them.” Bits of greenery and fluffy petals fell from his lips as he spoke. “Kisses. I like the flowers. Have some.”

Tristan scrunched his nose, brushing leaves and petals from Aran's mouth. "You're gross," he said before leaning in with a grin. "That tastes like shite, by the way," he mumbled against his lips, "not at all like almonds."

“You’re getting too many leaves. More flowers.” He wound his arms around Tristan’s neck, leaning against him. “You need more flowers. I like you.”

Tristan sighed, pressing his forehead against Aran's. "You do?" he asked quietly. "You mean it?"

“Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it?” Cornflower blue eyes like the reflection of the sky in a still pond peered up at him. “You after wanting to show me where you found them? We can go roll around there.”

"They were just… by the side of the road. Past the chemist's. A mile or so from here maybe. There's a few of them on the way to the pier, I think. But it doesn't really matter." He reached up to brush a spot of mud from Aran's temple. His coppery blonde curls were just starting to get dry, wisps that kissed his forehead. "Can I ask you something?"

“Hm?”

What are we? What are we doing? He stared at Aran for a long while, unable to ask the questions. Perhaps they didn't need any answers. Perhaps Aran didn't know them either, even if Tristan asked. They'd been friends since they were children, and now they were something else, and that something was new and bright and exciting in so many different ways- and Tristan felt completely out of his depth. He let out a soft sigh. "Nevermind." He opened his fingers to let the wilted stems fall to the ground. "Race you back to my place?"

The grin split Aran’s face, brightening his eyes, and a moment later, he was scrambling to his bike, wheels spinning in the mud as he took off.

#aran x tristan #friends to lovers #childhood friends to lovers #aran trevelyan #tristan trevelyan #playground love #modern au #johaerys writes #oftachancer writes

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baekberrie · 6 years ago

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🍯h o n e y - bbh🍯

🍯Romance, fluff, School trip AU

🍯Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

🍯1k and birthday special

🍯enjoy! xoxo✨💖🍓

Cicadas were welcoming the season of love with their singing as the snow-white curtains fluttered gracefully in front of the windows. The quiet sound of the ticking clock faded under the teacher's voice as she announced the groups for the next week's school trip. Between your orange fingertips was a pen spinning absentmindedly- not entirely paying attention to what Mrs.Kim was saying, your gaze was bought on the view outside and you found yourself staring and the white, fluffy clouds and how they formed into funny shapes. Closing your eyes, you could hear the faint noise of water flowing down a stream near your school. A summer trip huh? You had never put much meaning to these kinds of events, although you did have a few friends to spend the trip with- loud and crowded places had never been your favorite. Would it be worth it to go? You wondered, well, it certainly wouldn't do any harm- but what was making you doubt was the fact that you had yet no real reason to go. You had longed for the summer break so that you could've dived into the world of another magical book, and eventually forget anything else about your own. Sitting by the slightly open window with the sun rays painting the pages and the soft breeze caressing your skin had always been one of the moments you cherished the most. To feel every word and emotion described in the novel, those were things that had given you life, energy and will to go on. Your life hadn't been an easy one and sometimes you just felt like you had to come away from it at least for a while. If there was another world where you could dream in, you had jumped into without any second thoughts. And that was why books were your salvation.

"Y/n, Sarah, Baekhyun, Jongdae, and Chanyeol are in group number 3." Your eyes suddenly snapped open at the familiar sound of your name being called, skimming with your gaze through the classroom you tried to find the people that Mrs.Kim had just assigned you with. Jongdae, Sehun, and Chanyeol were pretty easy to spot, these guys were the loudest and the overly friendliest in the whole class, not that it was necessarily a bad thing- in fact even though they weren't your cup of tea, you found yourself not getting annoyed at them as much as you used to one time. Perhaps it was the way they didn't get ahead of themselves for being popular, or maybe it was because they had many times mustered kindness to you. Probably both.

Searching further, your gaze landed on the girl at the desk next to yours- ah, she was the kind of girl who'd rock any type of outfit, even the school's dull uniform looked nice on her. Her hair was a golden shade of blonde as it gracefully curled inwards by her shoulders, it didn't seem like she had been paying any attention to the teacher either; with her gaze fixed on her perfectly healthy and manicured hand, searching for any imperfections on her nails. A beautiful and satisfied smile made it's way on her face when she decided that her nails were indeed as perfect as they could be. Sighing for yourself you directed your gaze back on the teacher, this was going to be an interesting trip.

A frown creased between your brows when you recalled the third name that your teacher had called out- feeling quite unfamiliar with it. Maybe it was because you were such a loner that you sometimes forgot about newcomers and such- but Baek... Baek what was it again? Ah, Byun Baekhyun, when you gave it thought you knew that this hadn't actually been the first time hearing it. In fact, as soon as you remembered it, your gaze automatically detached from the beautiful view of a celeste summer sky and started skimming through the classmates to acknowledge the appearance of this fairly new student. A certain platin blonde head only a few seats away caught your eyes' attention. His brown almond eyes were garnished with long and delicate eyelashes barely kissing his orangy cheeks. His hand was pressed against his cheek as he leaned into it. It wasn't in you to stare at people, but this person, he was so beautiful. His skin was light and velvety, for that matter, you'd never thought you'd ever find yourself admiring someone's hands- but Baekhyun's just had something so astonishing to them, with long and elegant fingers, not even the beauty mark placed perfectly on the corner of his thumbnail went unnoticed. Without even noticing you had fallen in a complete trans, studying his every detail as if he was the most exciting page of your favorite book, not missing a single detail. However, he must have felt your gaze because his eye suddenly met yours- nearly giving you a heart attack. You gave a tragic attempt of looking down on your desk and started scribbling on a nonexistent paper sheet, probably even more ridiculous. The blood rushed to your face and you scowled to yourself, covering the redness of your face by pressing your palms against your cheeks.

What the heck. ☀️☀️☀️

The sun's rays shining felt scorching hot against your bare arms, autobuses stood in lines and big crowds of students were waiting outside of them. Loud chatters echoed through the whole parking lot and in the air was a stuffy scent of gasoline. With a loud sigh heaving from your lips, you asked yourself if you had made the right choice by coming here. Avoiding the uncomfortable sweat and warmth was such a tempting thought that you wondered what in the world had pushed you to come here. School trips had never been anything you'd prefer over anything, and yet, there you were in the queue for the bus under the burning hot sun, grumbling but yet not doing anything about it. It wasn't obligational so you had no reason to stay in that crowd. But a tiny little voice in the back of your head had been whispering that maybe you'd miss out on something great if you'd stay at home. Fine, fine! Just stop. You angrily thought to yourself and crossed your arms over your chest, officially losing the inner war you were having with your own thoughts.

"Are you going to move or...?" Someone called after you and you realized that you had been standing still in the crowd although a lot of people had already started entering the busses, mumbling a quick apology you gathered yourself together and climbed the high stairs of the big vehicle. Everyone in the bus seemed to have someone to sit and spend the hours-long ride with, while you didn't. It would have been natural for you to feel slightly alone and sad about it, however, there was no such emotion in you, because in your bag was one of your favorite novels of all times and the eager to read it was consuming you. Getting to sit alone only meant complete peace for you and your book, in that way you could dedicate every piece of you to the beautiful words printed on the pages.

With a content sigh, you let your back sink into the soft material of the bus seat, enjoying the rare fact that the school had bothered to hire nice and comfortable buses for once. Not a moment went to waste and you immediately started fumbling with your bag, reaching for the so longed book. You felt the excitement buzz within you when your fingers came in contact with the familiar material of the book's cover, feeling the patterns with your fingertips. "Is that seat taken?" The soft voice came from above and the first thought that passed your head was the fact that it had been so low that you'd almost barely heard it. You weren't familiar with it, in fact, you couldn't say you had ever heard it before. Lifting your gaze, your eyes met with two chocolate brown orbs, two dark oceans that you had indeed looked into before. The blonde boy was wearing no expression as his hands held the straps of his backpack in place by his chest. You couldn't help but slide your eyes down his body, taking notice to his extremely cute outfit- blue shorts and a white shirt in which it's collar weaved into the pattern of a sailor's uniform.

Without making him wait for too long you shook your head, signaling him to take the seat, so he did. You didn't know why the fact that he was sitting next to you made you feel a tad bit more self-conscious, so, as discreetly as possible you pulled the book out of your backpack and scooted closer to the window, feeling the need of being as far away from as possible. His scent reached your senses and the fact it smelled so good and that it was unavoidable for you to not smell it bothered you to no end. A crisp kind of scent that had a refreshing effect on your lungs, like newly washed soap, fresh and delicate.

So unpleasantly pleasant.

It didn't take long before you shrugged it off and opened the book with eager, ready to take part in another world where you could lose yourself entirely without any worries. Your eyes met the first line of words and that was the very moment when you transitioned into the pages, living each and every sentence. You had managed to block out any sound of chatter that stayed in the background, however, there was one voice that you hadn't expected to even speak up and so the moment the boy next to you parted his lips, the magic of the book suddenly ended. "That's a famous novel isn't it?" His voice came like a soft caress against your ears, you felt and odd throb squeeze on your heart as you didn't feel any annoyment by the fact that he had interrupted you from your religious reading like you usually would. Instead, an unfamiliar excitement bubbled in your chest as you faced him with big, enthusiastic eyes, holding the precious book to your chest. "Yes! It's John Green's sixth novel, so awesome! Do you perhaps like any of his works?" You had no idea where the sudden sociality was coming from- but anytime anyone recognized John Green's works, this one, in particular, it never failed to wake sudden happiness and eagerness to talk about it within you. You weren't a very talkative person, but when it came to the things you loved, you felt like you could speak about them for hours and still find new things to say about them. Baekhyun flinched slightly back at your cheerful reaction, having not seen that coming. He found it amazing how your eyes had in a matter of seconds gone from uncertain to glittering with affection and excitement towards the topic of a book. Pretty...He thought but immediately shooed it away. You were hopefully waiting for his answer, feeling like you had finally found someone who shared your interests, nevertheless, you were only disappointed when he awkwardly cleared his throat and leaned against his seat, looking away from you again. "Not really," He mumbled against his palm, back to the low and unhearable voice. Looking at you from the corner of his eyes, he could see how the shine in your eyes slowly died down and he couldn't help but feel bad about that. Your teeth dug deep into your lip as you detached the book from your chest and placed it back in your lap, running a soft hand over it. Had you been too excited? Had you scared him off? Squeezing your eyelids together you tried to forget the past minutes, feeling embarrassed and upset about the way you gave out yourself like that again, just because of a simple comment of a person. This hadn't been the first time you had gotten overly excited over something of the kind, and every time you regretted it. While you were feeling remorseful in your seat, you didn't notice the flustered apple red that painted the blonde boy's cheeks. ☀️☀️☀️ Frustratedly enough, the past happenings decided to haunt you even when you were supposed to sleep. With your forearm resting on your forehead, you stared up at the barely visible ceiling, regretting your actions, having an inner war with yourself on whether you had been too rash or if you should just stop questioning everything you did. It didn't always have to be you, the weird one, right? Right, why couldn't that Baekhyun guy be weird as well, in the end, he had been the one showing interest and then suddenly ending the conversation so abruptly. You were glad that it was currently night and dark in the room because you had a tendency of making odd expressions and gestures with your hands when you were trying to conclude something in your head. The warmth of the summer was almost unbearable and you wondered if you were ever going to fall asleep while you were so conscious of the fact that your skin was damp and sweaty, making you uncomfortable. With a sigh, you couldn't help but think that it would've been really ideal to read one of your favorite books so that you could focus on something that wasn't the weird things that you found yourself experiencing, or maybe that shoujo manga that your friend had pestered you about- no, no that would only fill your head with weird thoughts and expectations. Yeah, you could never go wrong with a book, but you were sure that your roommates wouldn't appreciate it at such an hour, so you contented yourself with recalling your favorite scenes inside your imagination. ☀️ ☀️ ☀️ Half past eight in the morning and the camping's lodges were already empty, the whole park filled with students chattering while waiting in line for the necessary equipment of today's events. While you were struggling to keep your eyes from closing Chanyeol was the one standing in line, since he had given himself the role as the team leader and had with motivation offered himself to take any responsibility. You found it funny how nobody had objected. Jongdae seemed to be bonding with the beautiful Sarah and Baekhyun was standing with them without really saying anything. Even today was an incredulously hot day and you mentally cursed yourself for not bringing a fan because the amount of fresh air that your sole hand was creating through the waves was pathetic. "Today we fish!" Chanyeol exclaimed once he came back with a rather big bag hanging down his shoulder, not just his lips were into a wide smile but also his eyes were two glittering crescent moons and the way he was barely holding his excitement made a soft smile twitch on your lips. The boy was so tall you could never lose him even in a big crowd and his habit of dyeing his hair into unusual colors made him stick out even more. But you didn't mind him, he was one of the popular kids and he didn't boast about it, hence, sometimes you wondered if he even was aware of it himself. You liked to observe people and every time you found yourself looking at Chanyeol he wouldn't seem to be aware of the admiring gazes directed at him and just continued being in his colorful world spreading smiles.

"Fishing?" you repeated, Chanyeol sensed the hidden question and nodded enthusiastically, a smile never leaving his lips. "Yep, for today's dinner, at the campfire," he explained and now that he said it you found it rather smart of the teachers to plan it this way. You nodded back with a weak smile and didn't say more, the boy moved on to rest of the group and announced the same things he'd just told you. As soon as Chanyeol said the word fishing you could see a grimace flash for the shortest second on Sarahs face as she lowered her gaze to her hands and you figured out she must have been worried of her manicured fingers and nails, however, it was, she didn't voice her complaints and you found yourself liking that trait of hers, yet another nice person in this group. You had been in her same class multiple times and from what you saw she had always been someone who cared about her appearance and health, but not in an attention seeking way. She knew that she was beautiful and didn't need to say it herself for people to notice. It was her confidence, that made her even finer. Jongdae seemed rather surprised by the choice of events but didn't complain, you had always seen him as the very positive person of the class, not to mention overly cheerful. He eyed Chanyeols bag with some sort of approved and nodded. "never heard that one before but ik sure it can be great fun." He thought out loud, "Do you want some help with that though?" Jongdae asked, arms already extended and ready to help but Chanyeol immediately waved it away.

"it's okay bro, we can switch later, thanks though." You were glad you had been put in a group of people who had a great relationship with each other and that had no problems with bonding with others who they didn't know. Even though you weren't a social butterfly, you found yourself appreciating people who made the situation comfortable for everyone. Your eyes pulled to the Blonde boy standing next to Jongdae and surprised yourself with the first thought flashing through your head was that he looked really good in that plain white tee and jeans shorts. It was such a simple outfit and yet it looked so much more on him and that was somehow something very interesting for you, you found yourself trying to find the right words to describe his slant and slim frame. Eyes squinted into a concentrated expression, you didn't realize the way you were very much staring at Baekhyun until his eyes suddenly met yours and you looked away at the velocity of light, heart shook in your chest at the sudden happening. You loved reading and now you had the habit to observe people just to describe them in your own writing inside of your head, but why was it you it was so hard to put this boy into words? Perhaps because of the way his gaze gave away nothing, perhaps because he wouldn't let you see anything unless you knew him. Some people were like open books, some were like diaries with a lock. For some reason, you couldn't let go if that thought.

Every group was assigned with a certain fishing area so that the big amount of people wouldn't scare the fishes away, and so, your group started moving towards its destination. You believed it wasn't far, at least that was what Jongdae had stated after taking a look on the map that had come with the equipment. Chanyeol and Jongdae were absorbed into a conversation and Sarah contributed every now and then while you and Baekhyun walked behind in silence. You felt the urge to start a conversation but the thought only brought you back to the moment he had spoken to you in the bus and the embarrassment held you back. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, his hands were in his pockets as his eyes were watching his own feet move, he looked deep in thought so you used it as an excuse to convince yourself not to talk to him.

The walk was about half an hour which in your opinion wasn't that long at all, since there were trees on the way, the sun hadn't been as unbearable as it had been in the park this morning. At least now you had a soft breeze soothing on your damp skin. The closer you got the more you could feel the salty scent of the sea not too far away, the sound of its waves crashing against the sand was faint but still enough to get into you into that peaceful mood. When you had arrived at the fishing area Chanyeol started right away with giving out to everyone a fishing rod. You eye it skeptically, trying to figure out how it was supposed to be prepped. You had the fishline but you had no idea where to start wrapping it. You had stood there cluelessly for maybe five minutes without really doing anything, trying to sneak a look on the other guys to see how they were doing it but no matter how intently you watched you couldn't just figure it out. It seemed so easy, the fact made you too shy and hesitant to ask in person. That was until the fishing rod suddenly disappeared from your grip and was replaced by a ready one, bewildered you looked up at the person before you with wide and startled eyes. You were surprised to find Baekhyun standing in front of you, casually threading the fishline through the rings as if it was something he did every day. The soft breeze scattered his platinum bangs ever so slightly but he still managed to look perfect.

"Thank.. Thank you," You murmured hesitantly and he just nodded. "Do you know how to use it?" Baekhyun questioned, finally detaching his eyes from the rod and locking them with yours, watching you with a sort of intensity that made you feel self-conscious, your first instinct was to look away and shake your head instead of voicing your answer. "Then I shall teach you," You were confused, so was Baekhyun quite and reserved or bold and confident? How could someone give out such different vibes at the same time? For some reason this new confusion also made a certain interest for him grow within you and oddly enough you did nothing to stop it. You didn't feel like ignoring this feeling and avoid it, you didn't know why. But something deep within you said that maybe even a life like yours could turn into a wonderful story written by your favorite authors, though, you had no idea why that thought came at that moment nor why you related it to Baekhyun. You followed his movements and successfully through the line into the water, not as far as he had done but you still saw him giving you an approving nod from the corner of your eye. "Books, I really like them." The silence broke with Baekhyun's soft murmur and for a moment you had to process the fact that he had just talked. "Huh? But you-" First he tells you he doesn't have an interest in books and now he does? Was that how Baekhyun was? Indecisive? Or maybe confused. You frowned at him and really wondered what went through his head when his cheeks turned a shade redder. The boy cleared his throat and avoided your gaze.

"I actually really like books, especially John Green." When the familiar name rolled off his tongue you felt how your heart swelled with excitement and you bit your lips to keep yourself from reacting like the last time he had said something of the sort. "John Green's 6th novel is my favorite too." He continued and at this point, you started to think that maybe you were hearing things wrong because could these words really come out of his mouth? From the same boy was had denied it just a day ago? Despite your bubbling excitement, confusion took over your face and when Baekhyun stole a look he gave you an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry I said the opposite yesterday, I lied."

"But why?" The question was fast from you and you surprised yourself.

"I guess I felt a little overwhelmed, I've never met someone so enthusiastic about books, I thought I was the only bookworm in our class," Baekhyun explained, his voice was calm and it was in perfect combination with the soft sounds of the water hitting the shore, you decided that you liked it, in fact, you found yourself wishing he'd talk more just so that you could try to get used to his voice.

"You know, many people read books," You stated with a barely noticeable glint of mock in your voice, just to try to hide the embarrassment, you had actually overwhelmed him with your enthusiasm. You gave yourself a mental slap. Chill Y/n, you need to chill. "Well yes, I know, I just tend to forget about it." "How though?" You asked, directing your gaze back to the where you had thrown the fishline, wondering if there would be any fish in this area, to begin with.

Baekhyun twisted the fishing reel a few times so that he could throw the line again. "Because I don't surround myself with many people, so in the end, it tends to be only me and myself." His words left you slightly stunned but you nodded with understatement because you could genuinely relate to that.

"Yeah, I see where you're coming from." you agreed, feeling suddenly a wave of braveness buzz through your body because the next words that left your lips weren't anything like you'd ever say to someone you had just started talking to. Was this what they meant in books? When it felt like you'd known a person your whole life while it's the complete opposite?

"Well we both like books and John Green, so it doesn't really need to be you and yourself anymore," Was that too bold? Was that going to scare him away a second time? Because in all honesty, these were things that his presence was making you say these things, because you felt a pull towards him and it was a totally new thing to you, you didn't know what it was nor what to call it, but you felt that if you wouldn't become close with this person under this trip, it might be too late later.

"That'd be nic-" You didn't hear Baekhyun's answer because the next thing you felt was a sudden strong pull at your fishing rod that sent you flying into the sea. A splash resounded into the air and an inhuman noise left your throat when you didn't feel the ground under your feet anymore. Ice cold water embraced your body, covering it with immediate shivers as you felt your own brain freeze. Eyes wide and too shocked to realize what had just happened, but your daze was soon shattered by the loud laugh echoing through the trees and surroundings. Your eyes shot to Baekhyun who was currently bending over his stomach, happy laughter bubbling from his throat and glistening tears crystallized into his eyelashes. Suddenly, the cold water didn't matter anymore. Did you say his voice was beautiful? Because his laugh was so and even more, you found yourself wishing to capture this moment so that you could replay it how many times you wanted.

"You look hilarious!" He said before he got into another fit of laughter, annoyed you fixed the wet hair from your face and scowled at him while getting up to your feet, not forgetting to bring the fishing rod with you. "Thanks, that's not funny." You weren't really angry at him, but he didn't need to know that as long as you'd get to hear his laugh a while more. Baekhyun was still giggling to himself as he for a moment placed his rod on the ground and went to grab a towel from Chanyeol's bag. Cold air hit you unbearably when you stepped out of the water, barely keeping your balance on the slippery stones but Baekhyun steadied you by grabbing your arm before you could fall into the water again, "Easy there," He said, eventually throwing the towel around your shoulders. His hands were still holding the ends of the towel but you didn't want to question the motive, the irrational part of you could have him standing like that for hours and you'd still appreciate it. His eyes were roaming your miserable state, taking in your wet hair and damp skin. "You'll get a cold, what do we do?" he lamented with genuine worry and you liked it, liked the way it made you feel, even if it was so out of your character, but you couldn't help but let it happen. The more time you spent with him, you felt yourself become a more open person. However, only when around him.

"We certainly shouldn't laugh about it." You grumbled and his lips twitched into such an adorable smile that you felt your heart squeeze at the view. "Don't remind me of your majestic fall then," It seemed that behind that wall of his, Baekhyun could be a pretty cheerful person, not to mention his love for teasing, you would've never guessed. You could only think that maybe your fall into water wouldn't have been such a bad thing after all. But despite his cheery side, he could also be very calm and peaceful and you found yourself loving that part of him. That part of him that made his voice sound so delicate and smooth, with slow and well-articulated words leaving his pink lips, after just a few hours of fishing with him, you finally found the right word to describe him. Honey, he was like honey, just like there were so many types of kinds of honey, there were many sides of him, and what all of them share is the sweetness. He was just sweet. You had never thought about putting your own self into words, but after a few deep thoughts, you realized something. That your heart was indeed very ambitious. Because you barely knew this boy, and your heart had already started dedicating its beats to him, and for some reason, you didn't feel like stopping that from happening. He was a flower, and you the bee being pulled to it.

☀️☀️☀️

By four in the afternoon, groups of students were already starting to head back to the camp, some had entire bucks filled with fish and you couldn't help but feel bad about the three fishes twitching in your group's buck, it was probably because you had fallen into the water that the rest of them had gone away. Chanyeol and Jongdae had been rather frustrated but they also forgot about it soon after returning to the camp. They had currently been asked to start the big campfire and that was when your group parted, well almost. Sarah went back to the lodges while Baekhyun stood by your side, wondering what to do himself.

The white towel was still wrapped around your shoulders and you pulled it tighter to create some extra warmth every now and then. You glanced at Baekhyun from under your lashes but looked immediately away when you saw that he had done the same. He cleared his throat but never got to say anything as one of the teachers' called for the two of you to come.

"Hey, you two! Don't stand there and come help!" She probably didn't realize it but you mentally thanked her for saving you from a possibly awkward situation. Without giving the boy another glance you headed with fast steps towards Mrs.Kim, Baekhyun followed close after. A list of multiple utensils was given to you, "Could you please get these at the storehouse and give it to today's cooking team?" Without objection, you nodded and started heading where she had told you, just like before, Baekhyun wordlessly followed you like a puppy, but you didn't mind it. His presence made you look forward to every few seconds, minutes and hours. Even if it was afternoon, the sun didn't show any signs of setting anytime soon, cicadas sang and you adored the orange color giving a golden glow to your surroundings. Summer, it was truly something beautiful. Summer that gave you warmth, summer that gave you flowers and smiles, summer that made you fall in love.

A small cloud of dust formed in the air when you pushed the old, wooden door to the storehouse open, which made you wonder just when had been the last time that someone had been in here. When you stepped in, it was brighter than you had imagined, there were smaller windows higher up on the walls who let in the warm shade of light, making it possible for you to even see the particles of dust flying around the air. Only your quiet breathing was hearable as none of you spoke up, eyes searching after the needed material. The floor creaked slightly under the pressure of your foot and a cringe twisted your lips, nonetheless, you continued forward to the big box placed on a table in the center of the room. More dust flew into the air when you lifted the lock and you could only feel bad about the cooking team, these things would use a good amount of cleaning.

"Will it really be okay to use these for the cooking?" Baekhyun hesitated once he saw the content of the box, eyeing it with reluctance, you couldn't relate more. "I'm asking myself the same question. But there's nothing other than this, so they'll have to clean it really well." Baekhyun nodded understandingly and you started to pick up what you supposed was what the teacher had meant when she wrote it down on the note. Baekhyun chuckled at the way you were grabbing it solely with the tips of your index finger and thumb, to avoid as much dust as possible, the sound made your heart swell with a sweet feeling that you didn't dare to name yet.

Baekhyun's gaze eventually switched from the content in the box to you, you and your long eyelashes glistening under the orange color of the sun, you with the towel wrapped around your small frame, your delicate fingertips and its silly way to avoid dirt. You and your pretty, damp hair. He couldn't help himself when his hand reached out to grab twirl of your hair, running his pretty thumb over it. At the sudden action, you felt your chest squeeze and your head turned so that you could meet his gaze. He was holding your hair close to his face as he observed it for another second before locking eyes with you. You wondered if you were the only one that felt something explode within your chest, you wondered if he knew how unfair it was for him to look at you with that intense expression that made you feel like he knew every and each way that he was making you feel. The heat reached your cheeks and you wanted to somehow cover your face so that he wouldn't have to see you in such a vulnerable state but you couldn't just detach your eyes from his.

"Your hair is still damp, you'll catch a cold.." His voice was this time an ounce lower and his murmur was like a warm caress on your ears. Swallowing the lump in your throat you shook your head ever so slightly, "I couldn't possibly get sick under the summer season," You reasoned, surprised with the fact that you had formed a normal sentence without stuttering, in the end, you couldn't deny the fact that this boy had an effect on you and your behavior, this was one of the moments where he'd trigger the way your heart beats, the way you felt so small under his gaze.

"That's what everyone says before getting sick," He disagreed and dropped your hair, going for the towel around your shoulders, he lifted it and gently draped it over your head, his hands massaged your scalp as he ruffled slowly the towel in hope that it would dry your hair faster. Baekhyun's movements started to get slower and slower until his hands started sliding down to the sides of your face, keeping them there and you found yourself looking back at him with a dazed expression on your face, not sure what to do with yourself. It would have been really ironic if you actually caught a cold now that you were slowly admitting your feelings for him, wouldn't it?

☀️☀️☀️ 4 days had already passed so fast that you could barely believe it, you were glad that you had come, in the end, your instincts had been right. You had actually enjoyed the time with your team on this trip with the school and you found yourself smiling as you'd never done before, it was a whole other world that had never even thought existed and it was only fair to say that you wanted to take part of it more often. You had never expected yourself to loosen up so much and have fun without any worries. But you were sure it was only thanks to the people in your group exclusively, you didn't think it would've been the same if it hadn't been with like this. You liked to appreciate the way every member of your team clicked with each other just right and all in different ways. Slowly but surely, you were coming out of your shell and spreading your little wings wider and wider.

It was currently evening and the campfire was still on, some students were hanging around the park while your group sat by the fire with some other people and sang together as Chanyeol had brought with him his very precious guitar, he had incredible skills that you would have never guessed for. While Jongdae who sang for him had a voice that wasn't even in this world, it was angelic, to say the least, you hoped that someone had told him that because he deserved to be aware of it. Sarah hummed along with a serene smile dancing on her face while from Jongdae's lips came melodious words from a song known by everyone.

Baekhyun was on your other side, doing the same as everyone else, just a tad more discreetly, singing along rather quietly but you felt blessed to sit next to him because you could still hear the melody of his voice and you were sure that it was at last as angelic as Jongdae's if not even more. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, just to sneak a peek at his singing expressions, but he caught you and the smile he sent you broke your heart. Baekhyun who shined like the sun, Baekhyun who was sweet like honey, Baekhyun who turned hours into minutes.

It was the last night at the camp and you should have expected your teammates to do something that was a bit against the rules, but you figured there were worse things to do, in fact, you felt and excited rush buzz through your veins when you entered the tent of another group. Plus, Baekhyun was there too so the part of you who struggled to feel comfortable was immediately soothed by his sole presence behind you.

Small candles were brightening up the tent, on the ground were sleeping bags laid across the ground, forming a floor on the grass. The group who had invited you had provided snack and games, just a few moments later you were all sat down with a pair of cards between your fingers, talking nonsense and throwing the cards into the small pile in the center of your ring. You had lost count of times that your eyes had met with Baekhyun's during this one card game match, not to mention how you felt your heart attempt to come out of your chest every time.

Shy but meaningful glances, you found yourself wanting more of those.

You were just going to make your next move into the game when Sarah suddenly grabbed your arm and the whole tent froze, for a second you thought you heard everyone's breath hitch inside their throats as there was a familiar adult voice resounding through the park. Chanyeol's eyes were wide with horror as his lips said "Mrs.Kim" and everyone took that as a clue to start blowing the candles out and hide, they all moved out of their seats but you had no idea what was happening and much less where to go. The people hurriedly rushing back and forth in the tent, hushed whispers, for a moment everything started moving in slow motion before your eyes, the sudden confusion making it hard for you to get a hold of the situation.

A gasp left your lips when you were all of sudden pulled down under a blanket by someone and only then you realized that the whole tent had gone dead-quite, a sudden brightness flashed through the tent when the teacher passed by with their flashlights and you understood that you were hiding. Thanks to the light you were able to see your savior and you barely kept in the massive sigh of relief when you saw it was someone you knew, Baekhyun to be exact. Your heart started to calm down, but that didn't last long because suddenly you were very aware of every part of his body that was in contact with yours. Knees bumping and arm draped loosely over your waist. Even though there were layers of clothing keeping his knees and hands from making direct contact with you, your skin still felt like it caught fire. Only when his warm mint breath hit the side of your cheek you realized how close your faces were, his blonde hair was barely brushing against your forehead as he stared right into your eyes, not giving you the chance to escape the blooming of your overwhelming feelings. Before you knew it, you had started tracing his every face trait with your gaze, barely keeping yourself from drawing the lined with your fingers. You noticed the absolute heart melting mole constellation extending on his cheek, the way his lips were parted in such a tempting way, the way he looked like came out of a fairytale, he was absolutely ethereal and it made you feel dizzy, out of breath. Lip caught in your teeth you tried to stay as quiet as possible, it was getting hard to breathe under the blankets with him.

You had been sure that nothing could make your heart tremble as much as when he had twirled a strand of your hair around his finger in the storehouse, but Baekhyun wasn't like your favorite book that you knew so well, he was an adventure you'd never taken part of and thus, his surprises never ended. Baekhyun's hand hovered above your cheek before slowly cupping it with his cold palm, sending fresh shivers through your flushed skin. As if he put you under a spell, the world stopped together with your breath hitching inside of your burning lungs, the only thing you heard was the bass of your heartbeat resounding in your eardrums and Baekhyun's soft breath caressing your chin. The pad of Baekhyun's thumb stroke softly and featherlike its way from the apple of your cheek to the corner of your lips, stopping there, his eyes were still on yours, however, he soon lowered his gaze to your lips and the movement made something warm burst within your chest and you wondered if perhaps, this was what they meant in romance novels, when the fireworks lit up in one's heart, lightening everything up with its glistening colors, muting every other sound with its own. Bringing you to another world where it was only the two of you, a world that you didn't want to let go of.

His thumb then traced its way to your lower lip, delicately pulling it from your teeth. It was when he leaned closer to your lips with his own that you started questioning reality. Was this really happening to you? Did this boy really share your same feelings? This wasn't just a mere dream, was it? As if he sensed your doubts, Baekhyun's eyes were before you knew it locked with yours, you felt how his silky smooth fingers gently ran down your fisted hand, curling open your fingers so that he could thread his own through yours, making your body tremble at the lovely contact, another spark lit up within you and he gained another ounce of your trust.

From the moment his hand had touched with yours, your feelings had bloomed, they were now open flowers that grew with the three words that repeated inside your head. You became his flower.

I love you.

A soft pressure appeared on your lips, the sole touch of his own spread a melting warmth through your body and you found yourself leaning into the tenderness of his kiss. His hold around your fingers tightened when you responded hesitantly to his kiss, soon entering a harmony. You could only remark that he tasted so sweet, his lips bearing the syrupy taste of honey. Quiet noises left your slippery lips when they locked with his. Although you wished for the moment to never end, your breath was running out and it was alarming you, so you parted. The two of you stared at each other without saying anything, there were no words needed, your actions had spoken for your feelings. Baekhyun startled you by placing his lips upon yours again without warning, but you soon melted into the second kiss.

Nothing mattered anymore, you felt like your feet had been lifted off the ground, the stars floated and you flew. It sounded like a dream, everything about this moment was so unreal, so dreamy. But the way your heartbeats melted together into one, it was definitely not a dream. With your hands intertwined, with your feelings blooming for the first time like flowers in the spring, with your mutual feelings. You were him, he was you, you were one together.

Your world from yesterday was now different, changed by his joy.

I am you, you are me.

☀️☀️☀️

Hi everyone! With this one-shot, I want to thank you deeply for 1k followers, I've been wanting to do it for so long but I specifically wanted to do it with this one-shot that took me so long to write, and I hope it was worth the long process of work I put into it. I'm posting this on my birthday for another thank you to everyone who follows me and my works, for those who support me and care for me, for everyone who is my friend, thank you for making my time on this website absolutely amazing and filled with joy, I hope we can stay close many years on.

I owe you guys because you have made me so happy many times.

Much love, P✨🌹

(I do not own the gif, credit to owners!)

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white-spirit-of-darkness · 6 years ago

Text

Fate’s Design, Chapter 1

Prologue | Chapter 1| Chapter 2

Summary: A long time ago, a single drop of sunlight fell from the sky. For several centuries the magic of the sun went undiscovered, until the kingdom of Corona needed a miracle to save their most precious treasure. When the only son of the King and his Consort is stolen from them, it seems like the magic of the sun is lost to the world once again, until that very same magic brings together two completely different people, changing the course of destiny forever.

AO3: This chapter | From the beggining

Pairing(s): Logicality (background) / Prinxiety

Warnings: (General warnings) child abduction, manipulative Deceit, villian Deceit, mentions of homophobia and light angst. Each chapter will have individual warnings if necessary.

Dedicated to @imtherealjose because she is amazing and she has been cheering me on all morning

***

“Hey, Thomas, come look at this! It’s amazing!”

Roman lifted a pot, hoping to find the usually green reptile. Nothing. The boy huffed in annoyance. Where was his friend?

“Ok, I get it, You wanna play, but seriously! This is important! We only have a week to figure it out, we cannot waste more time, or we will have to wait a whole year”

He moved a stack of books. His room was way too messy. His entire place was too messy. He needed to find Thomas, where was he? The kitchen? He had not checked the kitchen yet.

How was it possible that there was such a mess in such a small space? Roman sighed, giving up on finding Thomas. His friend was a chameleon, there was no finding him unless he wanted to be found. However, he did need to tidy up before DC came to visit. He didn’t want to make him mad.

“Alright, you win this round. I’m going to be busy for a couple hours, so you can bask in your glory all you want”, he announced to the empty room. Thomas would hear, and maybe then he would appear from wherever it was that he was hiding in.

He had important things to do, anyway. Everything needed to go according to plan.

Life sometimes wasn’t fair.

Really, now. It was totally unfair. All he’d done was take a little something that wasn’t his to take. Really, it happened all the time.

Well, maybe not everyone tried to break into the castle and steal a very valuable crown, but still. It wasn’t like the crown would ever be worn by the person it was meant for. He, however, could find it a good use. Someone would pay him quite handsomely for it, and then he could…

Better not dwell too much on it. He still had to get out of the citadel without being caught, which was proving to be far more complicated that he originally thought. To be fair, he hadn’t expected his partner to chicken out on him right in the middle of the plan. He was lucky he even made it out of the castle to begin with. He supposed he should feel bad for the poor guy who had with no doubt been captured already, but he couldn’t think of a plan to escape and feel bad at the same time. He wasn’t that good at multitasking yet.

Before he could get too worked up about not being great at multitasking, he stopped behind a cart full of vegetables left in front of a house to gather his thoughts for a minute. So, he was alone, he was being chased by at least fifteen guards, he had the crown inside his bag and his damned heart was refusing to slow down. He could still hear the noise coming from the guards, but it was getting further away. Breathe, he ordered himself. He needed to think. He needed to get out of there, so what should he do first? What would the best course of action be? He needed something good enough to get him outside the city without raising suspicions, and then he could hide in the forest for a few days, until the commotion had died somewhat and he could make his way to the spot where the dealer would be waiting.

He still had a week left, but with the mess… He shaked his head and pressed himself against the dirty ground when he heard footsteps coming closer. Between the cart and the wall of the house, it was enough to hide him for a while, until the guards truly started to look for him; it wouldn’t be long. His other option was… well, hoping to outrun the guards and escape before they closed the gates. It wasn’t ideal, either.

He peered from underneath the cart. The street appeared to be empty, but it wouldn’t last. When the guards realized that he wasn’t trying to get to the Western Gate, they would retrace their steps and then he would be trapped again. He needed to move fast.

There was a bundle of clothing on top of the cart, which he now realized was full exclusively of cabbages. He took what turned out to be a black cloak and put it around his shoulders. If he was going to run, then so be it. He pulled the hood up to cover his face.

Luckily for him, he really wasn’t trying to get to any of the gates.

As soon as he crawled from behind the cabbages cart a man screamed, prompting every person in the street to turn to look at him.

“It’s him! It’s the Angel thief!”

Yes, he thought. That’s me. He flashed the guy a smirk before turning on his heels and running as fast as he could, leaving the confused multitude too stunned to think of calling the guards.

Everything was going according to plan.

Thomas turned out to be asleep inside a flower pot. The small chameleon was curled around its own tail, not unlike a cat would. Roman smiled softly, watching his little friend breathe softly.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments, he felt lonely. Those moments when his own voice wasn’t filling the air, when Thomas wasn’t standing on his shoulder. The tower was too big and too small at the same time, with its walls and its ceiling that made him feel trapped and scared. The windows weren’t big enough for him to escape flying, but they were wide enough for him to contemplate the world he had never really seen. The reds and browns and whites and golds on the décor made him long for more, for different colors and different textures and different faces.

He knew that he’d eventually get out. He knew why he had to stay in the tower. His golden hair and golden eyes betrayed who he was, and he wasn’t yet strong enough to live with that. If anyone got word of where he was…

Roman knew it wasn’t good to think about those matters. The clock ticked in the background as the last remains of the morning morphed into the warmth of the early afternoon. The drawing on the walls, the books piled up in one corner, the curtains that separated his bedroom from the rest the tower, all seemed to hold their breath. It wouldn’t be long until he arrived, and Roman’s heart sped up, his thoughts replaced with fierce determination. Everything was clean, not a single thing out of place. His hair was well combed and pulled into a knot at the back of his head, not a single strand out of place. Everything had to be perfect if he wanted his plan to work.

Any moment now, he thought.

He felt more than heard the rumble of the earth far away underneath him, the rumble that signaled the magical lock being opened, a rumble that made Roman’s heart twist painfully in his chest. If he concentrated, he would be able to hear the steps going up the stairs, and in a matter of minutes the keys would tingle just before the door covered with a red curtain swung open. He could imagine him, covered in a black cape and a hat to hide his face, carrying a lit candle with him, the shadows moving around him as he made his way towards the living space in the tower, each step echoing in the dark. Roman had never seen the stairs, but he knew how dark they were.

A tingling sound. A soft click. The heavy wooden door being opened.

“Roman, dear, I’m so glad to see you again”

The man looked the same as always, if not more tired than usual. His dark clothes had dust from the road, his yellow gloves hiding his hands and his hat casting a shadow over the left side of his face, making the ever-present scar almost disappear. He was tall and somber, a serious but fond expression taking over his features.

“Dad” he said softly, before smiling and running up to him, just as DC closed the door behind him. Roman’s arms closed around the man, breathing in the bitter smell of dust and almonds he carried with him from the road. If he had been using the cyanide again, it really had been too long since the last time he’d been there.

“I’ve missed you, flower” said his father as he moved away from Roman’s embrace, turning around to take off his cape and hat. Roman took them and hung them up next to the door before letting the red curtain fall.

“Will you sing for me, dear?” asked DC as soon as Roman turned back to him. Roman nodded, eager to please him, and walked over to the stool next to DC’s chair. He sat down just as his dad raised an eyebrow at him.

There was something strange there, for a second. The scars on DC’s face always looked bad when he came back, but it was almost as if they had gotten even worse during his two weeks absence.

“Is everything alright?” he dared to ask after a few seconds of silence. DC merely dismissed him with a wave of his hand and sat down at the nice chair, taking one of Roman’s hand into his own.

“Nothing should worry you, flower” he said, flashing a smile. “Now, sing”

Singing for his father was easy enough. The song was easy enough. His voice echoed in the afternoon, the soft notes breaking the silence, calming his own fluttering heart. His hair started glowing, the shoulder-length strands lighting up his face. Roman could feel the magic pouring out of him with every word of the incantation he sang, and he contemplated DC’s face relax as the scars progressively disappear, leaving behind a good-looking man of undecipherable age.

“Thank you, me dear” said DC as soon as the glow in Roman’s hair subsided. “I was starting to feel so bad, you have no idea”

“I can only imagine” he muttered, before regaining his courage. “Dad, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about”

DC frowned but gestured at him to proceed. Roman jumped out of his seat and walked to his table, where he picked up his journal. Clutching it to his chest, he turned back to DC, who was looking at him disinterest.

“Every year, with no exceptions, the floating lights appear on my birthday” he explained, opening the journal to reveal his annotations. DC now raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed by Roman’s meticulous notes.

“My biggest dream ever is to be able to watch those lights in person, dad”, admitted Roman, no longer able to hold himself back on his excitement. “My birthday is in one week and I was wondering if you could take me to watch the floating lights? I mean, I’m turning eighteen and I know how dangerous it could be but I’m not a child anymore and besides I only want to go there and then we’d be back, I thought it would be a good idea for my first time outside of the tower and- “

“You want to leave the tower?”

DC raised to full height, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Roman’s words died on his tongue. He had been so sure that it would work, that he’d be happy to take him there, to make his dream true, but…

“Roman, my flower, eighteen years are nothing” DC’s soft words were like a hit to him. “You think you are a grown up, but no, my dear. For you, for what you can do, thousands of people would hunt you down and trap you. You have grown so much, yes, but you’re still just a flower bud”.

“Yes, but- “

“But nothing” said DC, with such force that Roman shut his mouth immediately. His dad’s face softened, and he walked towards him, grabbing Roman’s face with his hands. “Roman, I’m just… I’m worried about you. You know why you can’t leave yet, why I can’t risk losing you”.

Roman sighed, but he looked at his dad in the eye. Yes, DC was concerned about him. He knew how much he had lost, how much he had to suffer to protect him when he was just a baby. The scars he cured every time were proof enough of that.

“What’s so bad about the outside world, dad?” he asked, still trying to cling onto what little hope he had.

“People aren’t nice to each other, Roman”, said DC, letting go of him and sitting once again on his chair. “Thieves, murderers, liars- all of them just hurt others, the same way they would hurt you. You’re still too innocent for the world. People love corrupting the young boys and girls they see, and you? You have something valuable. You are especial.”

“I…”

“Just promise me that you won’t ask me again, Roman”

Time slowed down as Roman swallowed back a thousand things he wanted to say. His chest felt heavy with both sadness and fear, and DC’s eyes on him, urging him to respond, were making him feel trapped and alone.

“Yes, father. I won’t”

DC broke into a smile, and opened his arms, beckoning Roman into a hug.

As his dad arms closed around him, Roman felt something bitter invading his mind. If DC didn’t want to let him walk down the stairs, he’d have to find another way out.

Hours later, as a strange man crawled through the open window of the tower and Roman resisted the impulse to scream and run, a new plan formed in his mind. Yes, he would be seeing the floating lights on his birthday, no matter what DC said.

Taglist:

@depressed-lgbt-cat

@ukuleleanomaly

@heartfelt-piece-of-trash

@dead4sevenyears

@im-a-giraffe666

@journalanxiety

@mycatshuman

Let me know if you want to be added!

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #prinxiety #logicality #tsdeciet #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #my writing #sanders sides tangled au #thomas sanders #yes thomas is the chameleon fight me

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heyroslan · 6 years ago

Text

the lighthouse.

tldr: the bucket list task. roslan decides to sleep on the beach, gets a call, and decides not to sleep on the beach. he climbs the lighthouse instead. he ties up some family things, finally.

The phone screen says Mom and it’s been ringing for the past five seconds. It should be off to conserve battery through the outage, but Roslan hasn’t put it back on airplane mode since calling his brother. He fiddles with the edge of the box he’s been packing all night, counting down the seconds for when it will automatically go to v--

Better not.

He answers. “Mom?”

“Roslan.”

It’s the first time he’s heard Nadya Pike’s voice in what feels like a lifetime, and the disappointment in it is palpable. Roslan can feel his own panic steadily building. For their first conversation in a month, this is not how he wants it to start.

“Your brother just called me. He said that you plan to sleep on a beach tonight.”

Roslan’s hands pause, hovering over the box. His eyes drift to the separate duffel bag he’s packed, just visible in the dark room. Em, you asshole--

“In January. Roslan Gabriel Pike, are you out of your mind?”

“Mom,” he starts weakly.

“I have let you and your brother make your own decisions over the past several years of because as a mother, I can only guide you through the aftermath and help you learn from mistakes, but this? This is is something else, Roslan. Moving to Canada, I could accept. Eloping with that... that boy, I could accept--”

“Mom.”

“--because I knew I would be able to help you through them, but I cannot help you through this because you are literally going to freeze yourself to death doing it. It’s like you don’t remember the only time your father and I took you boys to the beach and you were almost carried out to the ocean because you were too afraid to wade through seaweed to come back to shore. Roslan, angel, I found my first gray hair last week. In the past hour alone, I feel I have grown only a headful more. Your father’s decided to replace every bit of carpet in the house with hardwood, your brother and his fiancée have officially set their wedding date to just a week before mid-year financial checkups, and now you.”

Roslan collapses onto the bed. Immediately, Hopscotch trots over from the foot of the bed to lie by him. “Mom, you should...breathe.”

“This is on par for a Tuesday night,” Nadya says curtly. “Why are you sleeping on a beach?”

“It’s a, um. A bucket list thing. Everyone in town’s doing it.”

“Everyone is sleeping on the beach?”

“No, no, we’re each doing something from our own bucket lists.”

“And sleeping on the beach was one of yours.”

Roslan winces. “Yeah?”

There’s a heavy sigh from the other line.

Roslan buries his face into Hopscotch’s back. “The town is-- It’s Cape Hazel, by the way. I don’t know if you were serious about Canada, but I’m actually in--”

“In Maine, yes, I know, I got that from your letters. Why are you doing this? Are you being forced?”

"No!” Roslan says quickly. “No, no, it’s something the mayor thought would be nice for the whole town, and it is kind of nice, so I want to do it. But maybe,” he hesitates, “I won’t do the beach thing? Climbing to the top of the lighthouse was the next one on my list, I think I’m going to do that instead.” If there’s one thing he hates more than worrying his mother, it’s worrying his mother after he’s already done something stupid.

He drags himself back on his feet and begins hunting through the bedside table. A moment later, he digs out a spare candle and a lighter. “Mom? I’m about to drive somewhere, but can you stay on the phone?”

There’s a faint rustle from her end. She might still be in the office, or she’s taken paperwork home again. “Of course, darling,” Nadya answers. Her voice is tired, but patient. Roslan wants to go home right then and hug his mother. “You do have an entire month to catch me up on.”

Roslan’s phone might run out of battery before then, but if there’s anything worth losing all of his cell phone battery all week for, it’s talking to her. “Yeah, um. So I told you about how I moved in with Jace--”

“No, it’s like-- we went out to the woods to find cryptids,” he explained, craning his neck to look up at the dizzying height of the lighthouse. To his right are the stairs, just illuminated by the candle he’s holding. “We call it unsolved because we don’t really find any answers. It’s more about the search for them, you know?”

“Sure,” Nadya says, not sounding sure. “And these things you call cryptids. Explain again.”

“They’re like...” Roslan tugs the zipper of his coat up all the way, finding that it’s somehow colder inside the lighthouse. “Okay, so. Remember the Marcellos?”

“Unfortunately,” Nadya mutters.

“The Marcellos are like cryptids. You’ve seen some pictures of them, and you could assume they’re real because people talk about them, but they never actually show up anywhere, so no one can definitely prove they’re real. Theo doesn’t think they are, but Sol and I think there’s something. Ugh, it’s freezing in here.”

“You shouldn’t have left your good winter coats at home,” Nadya says, the frown practically audible in her voice. “The Marcellos didn’t live in the woods. I don’t understand.”

“It’s a metaphor, Mom. That’s how cryptids generally are, but they don’t have to live in the woods. Like Nessie-- I mean, the Loch Ness Monster?”

“Right. Nessie.” Nadya doesn’t sound quite convinced yet, but she goes on, “Was this before or after that masquerade?”

“After, and after Jace’s sister. And after Hopscotch’s bad haircut,” Roslan confirms, exhaling as he finally comes upon the first landing. One flight down, another...dozen to go? Climbing a lighthouse had seemed more poetic in writing.

“I’ve missed that dog.”

Roslan snorts. “He’s missed having more shoes to chew on.”

“He misses being spoiled, you mean.”

“No, Jace and I still spoil him pretty badly.” He catches himself saying it a little too late. “Him and Almond. Jace’s dog.”

“Yes, I know Almond, you wrote about him last time too.”

“Okay. Just in case there was any confusion.” Another flight down.

“There’s none. And this is the same Jace you mentioned earlier, and all of the letters before that.”

Roslan doesn’t know how to stall. “Yeah. But. I think I finally found a new apartment, so I’m moving out soon, and then it’ll be okay.”

“All right.” He thinks he hears his mother sigh again, but it’s much quieter. She says, “Roslan, do you know what you’re doing there?”

Roslan conquers the fourth flight. “To be completely honest?” He exhales. “No. But it’s...” He pauses before the next set of steps, gripping the railing.

“Sweetheart,” his mother says gently, “when are you coming home?”

Roslan takes a deep breath, changing his mind and pushing away from the railing. He starts climbing again, keeping silent count of the steps. “I don’t think I want to,” he answers, feeling short-handed with it. “Not while... Not while Dad still thinks I’m going to change my mind about the company, because I- I won’t.” He passes the fifth. “I love you, and I love Dad, but I know I don’t want to go back and do anything with the company. I know I didn’t turn out the way you and Dad hoped I would, and I know I’m not going to be half as good as you want me to be. I know even if I try, it won’t be good enough, and I know I already disappointed you but I don’t want to wait a few years just to disappoint you again--”

“Roslan. Stop talking and listen to me.”

Roslan clamps his mouth shut. He has to open it again a second later to take a breath though, because his chest feels even tighter after nine flights.

“You have never, and will never, disappointed me or your father. We love you. Do you understand? Your father regrets everything about that night--he told me after you left. He thinks you hate him.”

“What?” Roslan winds a hand through his hair, his voice cracking a little. “No, god, I don’t hate him, I thought-- I thought he hated me.”

"Boys,” Nadya sighs. “If either of you had just talked to each other... Roslan, are you crying?”

“No,” Roslan says, crying. “I’m just at the top of the lighthouse and it’s fucking terrifying but also really gorgeous-- Mom, I don’t hate him, why would he think I hate him?”

“My best assumption is that you both said things you didn’t mean that night,” Nadya says with the patience of a saint. “And that, again, if you had just talked to each other, you both would have known that.”

“I- Is he there right now?”

“He’s on a trip for the week. But I would talk to him sooner than later.” His mother seems to wait for him to calm down before asking, “How’s that view, darling?”

“Dark,” Roslan sniffs, refusing to move further than a step onto the metal landing. “The whole town’s out of power, so I can’t see anything.”

“Oh, Ros,” Nadya says with the long-suffering tone of a mother. “You climbed a lighthouse during a power outage?”

“I had a candle,” Roslan says. “The moon and the beach look good. Here, I’m gonna send you a--” He blows out the candle and quickly swipes at his eyes before trying to open his phone back up. “N- Never mind, I can’t take pictures on twenty percent.”

“On twenty percent,” Nadya echoes. “Roslan, for the love of-- Save your battery. I’m sure we can see it ourselves someday.”

“You’d hate it here,” Roslan says thickly. “It’s the opposite of New York. It’s so quiet, you’d go out of your mind.”

“But you love it. That’s enough for me to want to see it.”

Roslan pauses. “Really?

“Only if you can promise you’ll visit us again at least once too. Your father had the sunroom renovated again, and I need someone else to tell him that the walls are absolutely too dark for a sunroom.”

“I’ll do that soon.” Roslan finally braves a single step forward, grasping the railing tightly. It’s not as high as Hazel Point, but it’s also much windier and the town is a murky spread of buildings, giving the illusion of sheerer drop. “I’m going to puke,” he mutters.

“Do not do that to the poor lighthouse.”

“I should have slept on the beach instead.”

“What even were you planning, Roslan? A tent?”

“A mattress.” Roslan gingerly steps back towards the walls of the lighthouse. When he feels his back hit the side, he slowly slides down so he can sit. “And, like, a lot of blankets.”

His mother clicks her tongue. “I knew we should have taken you boys camping at least once.”

The concept makes Roslan laugh unexpectedly. “Oh, god. I don’t think Dad knows how to pitch a tent either.”

“You all would have learned,” she says dryly. “We can add that to our own bucket list, I suppose. But tell me more about that list of yours.”

Roslan sets down the candle and the lighter carefully, huddling his arms close to his chest for warmth. It is freezing, but for the moment, the pride of having actually scaled the lighthouse is more than any discomfort. “I wanted to learn one more language. If I could’ve done that in week...” He shakes his head to himself. “I... Oh. I wanted to learn how to make chocolate lava cake too, from scratch.”

“I can’t help you with that, unfortunately. But I’m sure if you talked to your father...” His mother trails off, and Roslan knows where he’s being led.

“As soon as I figure out how to charge my phone,” he promises, “I will.”

“I still think you should be saving your battery right now.”

“It’s gonna die anyway. Besides, you still have to tell me about the next banquet. Is Aunt Cecilia’s family really coming? And you’re really going to sit next to her the whole night?”

The phone lasts for a solid half hour. Roslan wishes it was longer, but he thinks he made a solid amount of progress for the original forty-percent he’d started with.

He goes home feeling the lightest he’s felt in months and ticks off the lighthouse from his list.

#mhhhh this was a doozy #chtask005 #` & memories.

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outofthefires · 3 years ago

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A Little Kindness – Solo by Cinder

❝ 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘦 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦…❞

Sleep had left me a few hours ago, the nightmares from the night had managed to leave me trembling once again. So, I gave up on laying in my bed tossing and turning willing sleep to take me. Pulling myself up and off my bed.

“May as well do something productive with my time.” I scowled to myself.

The morning light was breaking through the kitchen window, when I quietly made my way out of my bedroom washed and fully dressed. My backpack thrown over one shoulder I tiptoed my way to the front door.

‘Cinder, where are you going this early in the morning?” #Iko’s sharp and very loud voice in this all but dead apartment echoed in the hallway.

“Shh.. Iko, you’ll wake the others up.” I whispered placing my finger on my own lips to silence her.

My eyes moving towards the other closed doors, listening to see if there was any movement coming from within, which could mean that I would have to stay and pay lip service to my stepmother and sister. ( Peony was not included in the list of people I had been trying to get away from.)

#Iko rolled her way down the hallway towards me, her voice lower and yet still felt too loud. ‘Let me just finish setting the table for breakfast and I’ll be ready to go with you to the market.’

#Iko was a household droid and belonged to my stepmother #Adri, even though I tried to keep #Iko with me as much as I could. There were days and times I had to play the long game. Today being one of those days after the blazing fight I’d had with #Adri last night upon returning to the apartment so late from the junk yard.

“Not today Iko, you need to stay here and make sure you don’t talk back to Adri. The last thing I want is for her to take her anger out on you. Do as she tells you and do not. And I repeat Do Not stand up for me if Adri or Pearl talk about me.”

‘But Cinder, I want to come with you.’ #Iko’s voice was low pitched and yet she still managed to make it sound as though she was a tortured teenager who could never get what she wanted.

“No Iko, not today.” Is all I said before I held my wrist out to the ID reader of the apartment door, and it opened. Giving #Iko a backwards glance I stepped out of the apartment to make my way to the New Beijing’s weekly market for a full working day.

֍ ֍ ֍ ֍

Even with it being early in the morning the Sun had been up in the sky for hours. There was a heatwave which meant that even the wind when it did blow was hot and uncomfortable. I felt the sweat beads rolling down my back as I walked, tugging up my gloves to make sure my Cyborg hand was out of sight if anybody did pay me any attention. But this was more out of habit then necessity.

The walk to the market shouldn’t take a normal person more than twenty to thirty minutes, however with my Cyborg foot not being the correct size for my growing body, it took me longer to hobble my way over the pot hold filled streets.

֍ ֍ ֍ ֍

By the time I was close to the market there was a buzz in the air, people had woken up and were going about their business. Escort droids were moving along with their owners to go to the market or to go to work. Children were slowly starting to run out to play, scream and sing in the path of others. People tutted and scowled seeing them, ushering them out of the way as they tried to go about their day.

I passed a few of the children all sat at the corner of the marketplace, every one of them practically clamouring over one another to look over their shoulders at the boy holding the portscreen in his hands. ‘Don’t push, you’ll break it.’ he wined to the others.

By the time I was stood before my booth unlocking it and Pushing the shutters up, I was no longer the only one who was starting early. With the market coming to life all around me it was hard to think of a better place to be.

֍ ֍ ֍ ֍

Being the only full- service mechanic at New Beijing’s weekly market meant that work was never short for me, and even without a sign, my booth hinted at my trade by the shelves of stock android parts that crowded the walls.

My booth was squeezed into a shady cove between a used net screen dealer and a silk merchant, both of whom frequently complained about the tangy smell of metal and grease that came from within my workspace.

But the truth of the matter was that they really didn’t want to be close to the messy work I did in here. And there was no way I was going to give up my booth. Even on the hottest of days the shade I got here protected me from the direct sunlight, and it made it a little more bearable to work the long hours I did.

֍ ֍ ֍ ֍

As soon as I had myself set up for the day, there were two customers already standing at my table asking if I could help with their children’s Tutor android. “What seems to be the issue with it?” I asked as they both started to talk over one another. “Please One at a time.” I asked as the wife started to break down the issues. The Tutor android had been glitching and teaching the children the wrong subjects and shutting down with a reboot every five to ten minutes or so. Telling them I was sure it was a software reload issue, and that I’d have the droid fixed in a day or two I sent them on their way. I didn’t like people hanging around the booth too long, they would want to watch me work and I did that better alone.

֍ ֍ ֍ ֍

My stomach started to rumble, reminding me that I’d left the apartment this morning before I’d had any breakfast, the time on my retina display was clearly telling me it was too early to close the shutters to go to find food.

The aroma of sweet honey bums hit my senses from in the air, and I knew it was coming from the bakery across the square. #ChangSacha, was one of the best bakers in all of New Beijing. Of course, #Sacha was also the only person in the marketplace to know the truth about me being a cyborg, which meant as astonishingly delicious as her honey bums smelled; I’d never had the opportunity to taste one.

#Sacha never missed the opportunity when passing my booth to scowl and curse in my general direction, then again, she wasn’t the only Earthen who hated cyborgs for no other reason than that they saw us as Less than. As we were part machine, in their eyes it meant that we were no longer human.

And for #Sasha I was the epitome of what she hated about cyborgs. All because she didn’t trust the cyborg girl who was too strong, too smart, and too good with machines to ever be seen to be normal.

I pushed the thoughts of #Sasha and her honey bums out of my mind. I had enough dislike in my life without me adding #Sasha’s opinion of me to the list.

Turning away I moved towards the back of my booth to look over the Escort-droid I was almost done fixing, but my hearing senses honed into the sounds of a child crying. It was coming from across the marketplace.

Turning back to face out I narrowed in my vision to see who it was and why the child was upset. I stilled seeing it was the boy who’d been holding the portscreen early in the morning. He sat curled up with the portscreen in his hands upset, but nobody was stopping to see if he was okay.

I moved around the table before me, a grease stained cloth covering it. When the boy looked up, I stilled when I recognised him. My feet came to a stop. I wanted to make sure he was okay, but at the same time I knew his mother wouldn’t be too happy to find out that I was close to the child.

The boy who sat on the side of the street in tears was called #ChangSunto and he was the son for #ChangSacha. Biting the side of my lips I watched to see if anybody else would see the boy and check on him, but everybody around him were all too busy in their own life. I told myself that #Sasha never once had been kind to me, she’d never had a kind word to say to me. And that I should turn around and walk right back to my booth. But my feet kept taking me forward, towards the boy.

Standing beside him, I bit my lip again. Still trying to talk myself out of doing this, but it was too late. Leaning down next to him. “Hey Sunto, are you okay?”

He looked up at me, his dark brown eyes red with the tears staining his almond cheeks, and his floppy jet-black hair falling over his forehead covering part of his face.

‘Cinder? No. Look they broke my portscreen and mother will be so mad at me. She told me not to bring it to the market, but I wanted to play games with my friends.’

“Portscreen?” I say holding my hand out towards him and he placed the device into it. I took a look at it and saw that it was cosmetic damage, nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a simple replacement of the outer casing. “Sunto, this is easy to fix. I’ll tell you what, give me ten minutes and I’ll be back with it looking as good as new?”

#Sunto’s quivering lips turned up into a smile and he was astonished that I offered to fix it for him. ‘Thank you Cinder, thank you!’ and then his smile faded again. ‘But I’ll have to tell mother for her to pay you.’

That was not a good idea. I knew his mother wouldn’t take too kindly to me being this close to her son, let alone talking to him or handling his portscreen.

“You know what, let’s keep this one to ourselves. And I’ll do the repair on the house.” Winking at him I stood myself up carefully so not to fall on my small cyborg limb, heading back towards my booth.

I have the portscreen dismantled before I was even behind the table of my booth. “They don’t make them like they used to.” I muttered to myself as I got to work fixing the boy’s device.

Before I knew it the portscreen was glistening and it looked better than new now. “All done.” I smiled to myself, sitting back in my chair to straighten my back out.

‘Psst.. Psst.. Cinder? Here..’ The voice coming from the side of my booth closest to the silk merchant. Moving to stand I craned my neck around to find #Sunto hiding just out of sight from his mother’s booth.

“Sunto, I told you to stay where you were.” I exclaimed my eyes jerking around to make sure his mother hadn’t seen or followed him here. When I narrowed my vision in on #Sasha’s booth she was smiling and talking to a well-dressed woman and handing her a box over her table.

‘I know it hurts you to walk Cinder, so I came to you.’ I stilled looking at the boy. He’s mother never had a kind word to say to me, and here he was. He’d taken note of my discomfort.

Shaking my head free from the thought I rushed back to nab his portscreen and handed it to him. “Now don’t let your friends break this one and go before your mother sees you. Go.”

Shifting back over my table, grateful that it hadn’t given way below me. I stood up straight. “That was a close call.” I muttered to myself. Then out of the side of my vision, I saw the small hands of #Sunto place a small box on the table before he ran away.

“Sunto?” I hissed after him, but then stopped not wanting to bring any unwanted attention to the two of us.

“Really child?” I muttered opening the box to the scent I knew so well. Inside the box sat four sweet honey buns. Still warm and so welcoming.

I fell back into my chair, my glance following the back of the boy running away with his portscreen in his hands.

This was an act of kindness from an innocent child, whose mother wouldn’t even look me in my eyes.

Picking up one of the honey buns I examined it closely, taking in everything about it. I’d been dreaming about trying these round delights for over three years. And now… I closed my eyes and took my first bite. The bun melted away into my taste buds and it was all that I imagined it to be.

“Today it going to become a better day.”

#TheLunarChronicles #LinhCinder #Cinder #Solo #StoryTime

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silverhands-etcetera · 8 years ago

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Sweet Home.

I’m at Sea-Tac international airport. I got here early, but still just missed last call at the Seahawk-themed pre-packaged grill & bar here at the N gates. So I’m doing without liquid refreshment, a good half hour walking laps around the terminal, then I found myself a seat near the gate that leads to Chicago, sat down, & blushed as my MacBook gave its familiar muted tone to the hushed waiting crowd upon firing it up. My embarrassment was short-lived, however, when the phone of the woman nearest me erupted into Sweet Home Alabama. I thought it was gonna make it around into the verse, as she was having trouble retrieving the device from a zippered pocket of the coat she was sitting on. I’m in that limbo/no-man’s land that is an airport terminal gate. It's not Seattle anymore, not based on the inhabitants. Presumably this island is populated equally by the clueless, affluent, progressive stereotype of Seattleites and the unwoke, working, staid classification of Midwest country folk. I suppose I could put a claim on either side, or neither. I've lived in the city a lot of years now, I've been enriched by the ways in which a mind is not allowed to ferment in its own juices, for the near constant influence of a sight, sound, or concept that lives somewhere outside of your own wheelhouse. Some folks back home might call these elements a corrupting influence, and they may have a point, but sometimes it's your own notions that have the strongest hold over clarity or peace, and a little challenge is what brings you out of your own shadow, -or at the very least, keeps you from being afraid of it. So I sit with this gang of future airplane-dwellers at the gate here at sea-tac. Some people are all too happy to identify themselves as disciples of the major Chicago or Seattle professional sports franchises, while some are more vague. My closest neighbor, on the phone next to me has a style that would be equally at home in Sequim, Washington as it would outside of Freeport, Illinois. These are the people who intrigue me the most, wondering where their trips are starting & ending. Which direction are they going? Are they leaving home or are they finally coming back? How many have just said goodbye to someone who worries about them living in a place so far off & different? -- I spent three days on the very nose of eastern Iowa, where the McDermotts come from, before setting out for my latest itinerary. Flying into Chicago, and doing the three-hour de-urbanization drive straight to the Mississippi River, getting in my obtuse & incredibly impractical old Ford and trying, and failing, to blend in. Try as I might, I just can't pull off the I-actually-have-no-idea-what-I'm-wearing look. So when I sit at the bar at Manny's, I'm exposed as an outsider. -also perhaps because I'm the only one in the place who's excited that they stock Stella in bottles now- but it's ok. Everything changes. Shit- Manny's ain't exactly what it used to be either, you know... Three days & three nights in the stomping ground, pot roast and peculiar middle-American card games with Gramma, an evening of old, moldy LP records at Steve's cabin, and a night on the town with three irreplaceable residents of my soul- which produced a giant to-go box full of leftover Manny's Pizza that changed hands several times until it was abandoned on the kitchen counter upon my leaving to find the airport once again. But the need to blend in, to pass for a local, follows me everywhere except Seattle. I want people to know that I have roots here, perhaps because among the good-ol-boys, roots are the only form of credibility, and I know that. Seattle can't exist in this way because the locals are so greatly outnumbered now, and the city has been plotted with a hundred different pockets of individual cultures to begin with. Spain, not so much. Spain has unique and somewhat odd ways about itself, isolated from the rest of Europe for a period of centuries, and perhaps still. I can sneak through with the locals as long as I keep my mouth shut, but I definitely don't know the secret handshake, and their manner of dealing with me changes as soon as I am exposed. I don't know why this troubles me so. Keeping up appearances is exhausting, opening with your bad grammar & decent pronunciation, your Iberian countenance & American passport gets all the questions out of the way & tells the true story right from the start. In writing about tours & travels, I've always been a part of a larger unit, which you try to keep anonymous as much as you try to include their part in the tales we spin. And in writing, to keep things universal, I've always tended to keep all the other ties that bind as vague as possible. This is my first trip in a very long time as a singular person- a single person, to speak plainly- which is something I had never even considered as a possibility at any previous point in my adult life. But now even my taxes tell me this, so here we are. Table for one, please. Or, I'll take a seat at the bar... --- It was a 787 that took us over the Atlantic -that with the two aisles and the row of three seats down the center. There I was, dead-center of the dead-center. Having a tendency to sleep on one side or another, and unable to lean in either direction, I dozed not a wink. Some, I assume, did get some sleep, but nonetheless, the whole rumpled batch of us shuffled out into Heathrow after seven hours of containment, none looking altogether very bright in the eyes. If you need to change terminals at Heathrow, you best not be in a hurry. I guess I've done it quite few times now, and I had several hours of layover, so it was just "follow the purple signs" & keep on shuffling. The terminal, once you get there is basically a shopping mall, only bigger. At least a hundred ways to spend too much on shit you don't need. Your best bet is to wander the Duty-free store & try to make eye-contact with the young woman at the Glenmorangie booth, and acquire for yourself an offer of a free sample of one of their varieties. With just enough knowledge of Scotch whiskey jargon, one could offer the type of feedback on a particular sample which opens the door for a product pitch on another label which is similar, but also leaning toward those particular things you described. Glenmorangie is currently producing at least five different labels and price points, so this pattern could conceivably be kept in motion until you actually need to excuse yourself politely because you need to run to your gate now, as the flight is boarding, and you're about to miss it. Heathrow took me to Madrid-Barajas, for a six hour layover/reintroduction to the intense character of the Spanish populace. So many things I knew already come back to entertain me. There's a couple little bar-like nooks in the airport, where you can just sit by yourself with a small glass of light-almond-colored beer and take in the show. I'm sure I'll have plenty of observations in the days ahead, but the sheer density of personality crowded into that airport kept me wide awake & riveted. A window seat to Sevilla afforded me a bit of a nap & we were back on the ground in no time. I gathered my bag & found my way out to the taxis, and over the short drive to town, the taxi driver & I took part in a brutal battle of who smells the worst. He rolled down his window as we neared the boardinghouse that is my home for the night. I'm in a second floor room with just a bed & a sink, overlooking an alley, which produced echoed conversation and moped traffic- almost immediately imprinting its own reverb algorhithm into my brain so I am able to imagine just the same what horse's hooves or wagon wheels would sound like in this particular space. I checked in around 8, and considered heading out for some supper, but fell hard asleep instead. All the disembodied voices in the alley crept up to me as I was sleeping, until I was awoken by the sound of a couple singing in French, followed closely by another incongruous sound to my ears in this place -that of the sky opening up to rain on the stone streets, which was then followed quickly by the buzzing of a mosquito who took her invitation through my open windows. So here we are, the mosquito & I. I'm in the bed, eating the muffin that was given to me somewhere over the Atlantic. The Mosquito will have her supper later. It's 4AM and the house is just waking up, or just getting home. I'm ready for another nap.

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onepointfivepercentneandert-blog · 6 years ago

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A Walk With Maria

They were both raised on the fringe of a great desert sea in small tidy homes adorned with shade trees rising up out of freshly mown lawns and pristine flags that unfurled like clockwork on every appropriate occasion. Since before they could remember they had been neighbors chasing tumbleweed down the salt-white streets and whispering secrets in the jasmine thicket that surrounded the town’s only schoolhouse like some sweet smelling palisade.

Now they were twenty and had not spoken for over a year. From the beginning there had been a tenderness between them, frequencies and pulses only the two of them could perceive, but never any talk of love. His name was Dante. Her name was Maria. It was Sunday in the late afternoon and Dante knocked on Maria’s front door.

She appeared almost immediately wearing a white summer dress and holding a fat, glossy magazine with a radiant blonde bride on the cover. Dante! she said. Her bright almond eyes were wide with surprise.

Maria. There you are in real life.

I had no idea you were home!

I thought we could go for a walk, you and me, if you’d like to.

What are you doing back?

Asking you to go for a walk.

You want to walk?

Very much so, yes.

Wait what’s going on, aren’t you supposed to be fighting tonight? It’s all Dad talks about.

I forfeited.

Stop it Dante. You did not.

What magazine you have there?

Maria took a quick inventory of damage to the face she knew better than any other: left eye bloodshot and swollen, a deep scar beneath his lower lip giving a vague impression of a cleft chin and his strong Roman nose, broken yet again, uneven and rifting, contours like some grand geologic mistake. My poor mi’jo she thought as he playfully grabbed the magazine away from her.

I’m getting married.

I know.

I meant to write….

Do you think we could go for a walk?

That sounds nice but I’m very busy with the wedding.

But a walk will make you a chipper bride.

Dante had always been difficult to peg. He hung out with the rock ‘n roll crowd in high school but was a tee-totaling athlete himself. He showed no interest in academics and yet spent hours at the county library reading Jack London stories over and over again. And he could show up unannounced at one’s doorstep unshaven and covered in dust like some sketchy highway drifter and suddenly disarm you with the word ‘chipper.’

Consider it my gift to Mr. Simon Garza, Esquire. What more can a man want than for his girl to be chipper?

You know his name?

Mother phoned. A lawyer she said. Fancy.

Well, almost a lawyer.

Still fancy.

You’d like him.

Maybe.

Can….can you come to the wedding?

Thank you but no.

I didn’t send you an invitation because you’ve been so busy.

That breeze feels nice. Perfect weather for a stroll.

Seriously – why aren’t you fighting tonight?

He looked up from the back cover of the magazine with a twinkle in his eye.

I needed to know if you’d prefer a cylinder or trumpet shaped vase.

They were walking now in the lush palm forest at the end of Maria’s street. Dante one pace behind where glimpses could be stolen of her sunlit face. All around them a call was sounding. Legions of unseen blackbirds whose collective voice rose up and fell, rose up and fell, like a metronome ushering in the night.

How did you get here?

He jerked his thumb in a hitchhike gesture.

4 truckers and a nun.

Does your mother know you’re back?

I didn’t come to see my mother.

Who are you here to see?

You.

Why me?

Because I love you.

Funny.

Not so much.

What are you talking about?

I’ve always loved you.

The desert sun dipped below the barren crags east of town and the forest was suddenly awash in murky twilight. Maria stopped abruptly and turned to face Dante.

What is going on?

I had to tell you.

What’s wrong with you? Are you punch drunk or something?

That's one way to put it.

You’ve never talked like this, all those years, not once.

I was too shy.

And now suddenly you’re not?

I’m about to lose you, Maria.

You can’t lose what you never had. Friends, mi’jo, that’s what we’ve always been.

Can we please keep walking?

No…we’re already too far. I never should have left with you.

But you did.

Yes so nobody would overhear you.

I’m sorry to be upsetting you.

I’m not upset, it’s just….listen, I’m flattered, truly. I still can’t believe you forfeited your fight but maybe you did. Or that you really love me….

I do.

Maybe you do. I’m honored. You’ve always been dear to me as a friend - the dearest one of all – but it’s too late. You realize that don’t you?

We’re almost to the water, let’s keep walking.

And by the way you can’t possibly be in love with somebody you’ve never so much as kissed. And, no, I’m not suggesting you do that now. But the word ‘love’ Dante, seriously. Have you ever even been in love?

Just this once.

How did you expect me to react?

I didn’t have any idea.

Did you expect me to fall into your arms?

Maybe.

Well I’m sorry to have let you down.

You didn’t let me down. I wasn’t counting on it. Just being out here with you is worth the trip back.

They walked for a stretch in silence before emerging drowsily from the forest and onto an undulating dune, glittering gold in the magic hour light. A flurry of mocking gulls could be heard in the distance chasing a fishing boat back to harbor.

Do you know what happens next in the story? she said.

The boy gets the girl?

We hug each other and we say goodbye. That’s what happens.

Dante stared not so much into Maria’s eyes but through them, his head nodding almost imperceptibly.

OK – I understand. I’m sorry. I hope we can always be friends.

Just then, involuntarily, Maria burst into tears. He reached out for her but she broke away and ran down to the shore sobbing, her head in her hands. Dante called out:

What is this?

You really want to know, you want an answer? Rage! I’m not chipper, Dante. Not one bit. You can’t just show up saying things like this out of the blue.

I had to know.

You had to know what? If I love you? You would have already known.

I would have?

Yes of course. Women can’t hide love.

To her own consternation she realized as the words left her mouth that what she said was true. And in that moment he did what he had to do and kissed her. She could hear herself react but it all seemed like echoes, disembodied and muted. The sound of Dante’s voice wrested her back to reality.

I’m sorry Maria.

You shouldn’t have done that.

You didn’t like it?

That’s beside the point.

Is it?

Look it’s ok, it was sweet, I used to dream about it as a girl. But you need to stop, Dante. Stop now. It’s too late.

Twenty-five hundred dollars.

What’s that supposed to mean?

The cost of a kiss.

That’s not fair. I never asked you to forfeit.

Doesn’t matter anyway….I’m through with boxing.

You’ve got to be kidding. What about all the attention? You’ve worked so hard.

I’m numb to it. Either end of a punch feels the same. It’s time.

What will you do?

Work for my uncle, learn the business, he’s been asking.

I can’t believe you’re saying this.

Can I ask you something?

Yes.

Are you really in love with Simon Garza?

What kind of question is that? Do you think I’d be marrying him if I didn’t?

I don’t know.

Well of course I wouldn’t.

What do you love about him?

Dante! Do you have any idea how offensive you’re being?

Tell me a good thing or two and I promise to stop.

There are many good things about Simon, many, many good things and probably many bad things too. But none of this is your business. I love him and he loves me. Honestly!

Maria Margarita Garza.

Simon would be so angry if he could hear this conversation.

I won’t be able to call you Triple M anymore.

It works for 5 more days.

Before he knew what he was doing Dante kissed her again. Maria lingered in that instance. She did not resist.

We’re so far from home she said.

I miss these pesticide sunsets.

Dante sat down on the salt crusted shore. The sky erupted in a fiery purple cataclysm over the spot where the sun went missing. The air was light and warm and a misshapen moon rose up through it all surrounded by pinhole silvery stars.

It’s time Dante.

You say goodbye first.

Every time I do I seem to get kissed.

Sit down for a minute.

No.

I promise not to touch you.

I don’t believe you.

I just need to rest. I haven’t been sleeping well.

She sat down just beyond his reach, tilted her head to meet the cooling breeze and closed her eyes.

Dream of your husband to be, the great future Counselor of the Wild West.

Okay I will.

A large skiff, paddled by two people, navigated the maze of half sunken trees near shore, pulling up crawfish traps as they went. The ethereal trill of crickets emanated from somewhere beyond and Maria almost fell asleep. When she opened her eyes she saw that Dante really was asleep. She listened to his soft measured breaths and savored the image of him safe, his boyish face dappled in moonlight. She remembered a time from the distant past when Dante chased her family station wagon down the street as they drove away on their summer vacation, laughing and waving, Maria laughing back, his image getting smaller and smaller until it was gone. She yawned as the distant sound of church bells from Our Lady of Guadalupe struck eight times.

Dante, wake up, it’s late.

He opened his eyes slowly and smiled as he saw her.

Hello, Maria.

Hello, Dante.

I love you.

I know.

Too late.

Yes, too late.

Simon Garza wins by decision.

Just then a voice rang out from the skiff they had seen, moving slowly away from them in the confused current of the shallows.

Maria – is that you? It’s Martin!

Martin Baeza? No way! What are you doing out here? She yelled out.

Harvesting our traps, that time of year. Hey do you need a lift back to town? There’s plenty of room in here.

Seriously?

It’s a long walk back in the dark. But we need to go right away.

Really? Sure, yes, that’d be great. It got late all of a sudden.

Part company here? Dante asked Maria.

You don’t want to come along?

No you go. I’ll walk. I’m sorry for keeping you out.

What will you do?

Put one foot in front of the other.

Good luck, mi’jo.

Good luck, mi’ja.

As Martin and his companion pulled the boat onto shore, Dante stared at Maria hard for a moment, put his hand to her cheek and then walked away quickly. Maria’s heart raced and she tried to shout his name but it came out a trembling whisper.

Not much light left, we need to get going! Martin called out from where he stood a good distance down the shoreline.

And so Maria ran.

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popofventi · 7 years ago

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Mental Yoga Sunday / 5 Favorite Long Form Reads This Week / Issue No. 20

"See, I was nine years old when I saw Elvis on 'Ed Sullivan', and I had to get a guitar the next day. I stood in front of my mirror with that guitar on...and I knew then that's what has been missing." -- Bruce Sprinsteen

I like the world but I hate the noise of it all, and sometimes clarity comes in the form of a quiet day and words on a page. This Sunday's edition we're doing a little Mental Yoga stretching our thoughts around things like Bruce on Broadway, Germany's definition of success and happiness, the originator of the hot chicken craze, Puerto Rico's dire straits and its fight for statehood and the great Kate McKinnon really not wanting to discuss her personal life. Embrace the muzzling of all the chatter.

Bruce Springsteen on Broadway: The Boss on His ‘First Real Job’ (The New York Times)

"It started at the White House. On Jan. 12, in the last weeks of the Obama administration, Mr. Springsteen played an acoustic concert in the East Room as the Obama family’s parting gift for about 250 staffers. For Mr. Springsteen, who takes every performance seriously, it was a moment of reckoning. He carefully assembled a set list spanning his career; he illuminated the songs with spoken stories and memories echoing “Born to Run,” the autobiography he published in 2016.

“There was a lot of storytelling, which goes back to our early days at the Bottom Line when you were in front of a couple of hundred people,” Mr. Springsteen said in an interview at his home studio in Colts Neck, N.J., recalling the Greenwich Village club where his shows in summer 1975became a sensation. “It worked in a very, very intimate setting.”

Heading home from Washington, Mr. Springsteen and his wife, Patti Scialfa, and his manager, Jon Landau, thought more people should experience a performance like that. “The way he combines the spoken words with the songs he’s chosen to do sounds like a very simple thing,” Mr. Landau said. “But it’s a real piece of performance art.”" - Read Full Story

The secret to Germany’s happiness and success: Its values are the opposite of Silicon Valley’s (Quartz)

"If Silicon Valley ever formed a political party, it might look a lot like the current iteration of Germany’s Free Democrats, or FDP. In the 2017 election cycle, the FDP offered a platform that reads like what Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg would come up with if they decided to disrupt Rand Paul. Its primary aspirations include creating a startup-friendly economy, digitizing Germany’s monolithic reams of bureaucratic paperwork (no small feat), and, yes, radically reduce income taxes, which currently top off at 45% for the highest earners.

The platform has propelled the party back from the dead. Having been kicked out of the Germany’s parliament, or Bundestag, in 2013, the FDP came roaring back with 10% of the vote in Sunday’s election.

To some, this might suggest that a cultural shift is afoot in Germany. After all, the FDP’s leader, a magnetic 38-year-old named Christian Lindner, has openly expressed a desire to shake things up. In an August interview with the Economist, in which he called Germany’s economy “a prosperity hallucination,” Lindner also explained that in his country, “entrepreneurship has long been undervalued … and societies that are prepared to be more daring and have efficient capital markets have overtaken us on this.” Germans could be “world leaders” in the new economy, he said, “but we have to want it.

But that’s the thing: The vast majority of Germans don’t want it. For progressive and even centrist Germans, the startup-style definition of Erfolg (or “success”) is utterly incompatible with their values—which do not center on individual wealth, recognition, or even careers. Though the FDP’s showing was meteoric compared with recent years, Germany’s cultural mores—which include a vehement defense of the country’s robust social safety net, largely credited for the relatively quick recovery from last decade’s recession—mean it is largely inoculated from the bootstrap fever that has long gripped the US." - Read Full Story

After Irma, Puerto Rico's Case For Statehood Gains Newfound Urgency (Pacific Standard)

"The deepening humanitarian crisis in Puerto Rico reveals a disaster response that is categorically different from the actions taken in the wake of hurricanes that struck the continental U.S. recently. While Fuentes praised the efforts of the president, the U.S. Federal Emergency Management Agency, and Florida Senator Marco Rubio, he outlined several needs that may not be in the offing.

"Short term—like, tomorrow—Puerto Rico needs a waiver on the Jones Act, so we can start bringing stuff in without the imposition of the Jones Act," Fuentes said on Tuesday, before the Department of Homeland Security delivered a no verdict. "Hospitals are running with generators. Frozen-food warehouses are running on generators. They need to get diesel if we want to keep that food."

Next, Congress will take up the issue of a hurricane relief package for Puerto Rico. Or maybe not: Politico reports that a formal funding request is still weeks away, as the devastation in Puerto Rico and the U.S. Virgin Islands is so widespread that an assessment cannot be made. Still, Congress passed a major hurricane relief package just six days after Hurricane Harvey struck Texas. And the government relaxed the Jones Act to deal with the Exxon Valdez oil spill—an ecological tragedy, but far from a humanitarian catastrophe.

Puerto Rico will have no real say in whatever decision Congress makes. The stakes could not be higher: One estimate pegs hurricane damages at more than $72 billion. Maria came just a month after Puerto Rico declared a soft bankruptcy in May—following a debt crisis that Fuentes and other critics say was spurred in large part by Puerto Rico's inequitable standing vis-à-vis the rest of the country. It's possible that the damages wrought by Maria could even exceed the debt that ruined the island financially." - Read Full Story

The Kate McKinnon Report (Vanity Fair)

"Kate arrives on time to the minute. I’m early, so I have a chance to observe her as she enters. She’s dressed down. Movie stars are typically dressed down for these occasions. (Another reason they’re deceptive: people come costumed as though it’s playtime, not work.) But Kate isn’t dressed movie-star down, i.e., the kind of down that’s flattering to the figure and still involves the application of a not inconsiderable amount of makeup, i.e., a stylist-approved, camera-ready kind of down. Kate’s dressed real-person down, i.e., badly: oversize T-shirt and pants that aren’t quite sweat but close enough; sneakered feet; face cosmetics-free; hair in a ponytail, or, rather, what would be a ponytail if she hadn’t failed to tug the hair all the way through the elastic, leaving it in a sort of ponytail-bun limbo.

As quickly as I’m struck by how un-vain she is, I’m struck by how much she has to be vain about. She’s very pretty: small-bodied and full-lipped with cat eyes—pale blue and almond-shaped and slanting—tawny skin and hair, dimples she can twitch into existence without even smiling. She’s 33 but appears younger, a few years out of college. I’d watched hours of footage of her in preparation for this encounter yet had somehow missed her great good looks. Not that she photographs poorly. It’s just that in most scenes she’s impersonating a woman far, far older than she (Debette Goldry, legend of the silver screen, a fictional creation) or a woman far older (the all-too-real Betsy DeVos) or a man (Robert Durst) or a boy-man (Justin Bieber). And her face is rarely in repose. She’s often stretching it in some crazy, rubbery way, thrusting out her jaw, baring her teeth." - Read Full Story

Burned Out (Eater.com)

"The first time I went to Prince’s Hot Chicken Shack, I was 12 years old, and I didn’t even eat the chicken. My dad, though, ordered his “hot” — one of six heat levels spicy enough to force beads of sweat from one’s brow onto the table, one soft drop at a time. While he ate, he remarked that the heat radiating from the plate didn’t just linger in the air or settle on your lips, it sat with you for days afterward. As the old ceiling fans helicoptered above, I sat silently in the pew-like booth, flirting with some fries that had absorbed a whisper of heat from sharing the same cast-iron skillet as the chicken, but never mustering the courage to take a bite.

My dad, undeterred, took me and my sister back again and again over the years. Eventually, we learned to sweat together, and I saw that the world was much bigger than home: Prince’s was a visit to “the other side of the tracks,” 30 minutes from the mostly white suburb where I grew up. My hometown, just north of Nashville, was the kind of place where the most thrilling food was a cheese-smothered appetizer at O’Charley’s and where, when I’d try to explain hot chicken to friends at school, they would ask with a bewildered look if I meant buffalo chicken. Looking back, I realize now that Prince’s was one of the few places we’d go and see people who looked like us." - Read Full Story

#Long Form Reading #Longreads #The New York Times #Bruce Springsteen #Vanity Fair #Kate McKinnon #Quartz #German Happiness #Pacific Standard #Puerto Rico #Eater.com #Burned Out

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