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yinses · 4 years ago

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B R A N D E D

| he would make sure that everyone knew who you belonged to |

tattoo artist! sukuna ryomen

rating: t

a/n: this is going to be a three part series. it got too long because i couldn’t shut up. thank you to @teoran for beta reading !!

you should have never informed yuuji that you were thinking about getting a tattoo, because of course his first response would be hey, sukuna owns a shop. why don’t you stop there. as if you didn’t already known that. your other friend, unfortunately had not known how to be subtle about it.

its when you go to hand off your card that they gasp audibly, drawing the attention of both yourself and the woman behind the counter.

“you’re not going to ask for a discount? i mean you know the owner, right?”

she jumps back quick enough to dodge the errant elbow you throw her way.

you knew you would regret telling her.

the woman is undeterred as she take your card, looking bored with the news. “so you know sukuna, huh?” the way she said it implied that it wasn’t the first time it had been made known to her.

you had known the man long enough to know where her thoughts were going with that assumption. sukuna wasn’t only popular for his art. a shudder rolled through your body at the idea of being categorized as one of his flings.

it wasn’t as though you were intentionally shaming the women. but it was sukuna. the same guy who locked you and his younger brother out on the patio whenever he was meant to keep an eye on you. and then blamed you for hiding from him when the responsible adults got home.

in hindsight, maybe you should have chosen another location. but now your card has been charged.

you scribbled your signature on the receipt, “uh yeah, awhile now. im not requesting him or anything.”

“his appointment book is full anyway. he doesn’t take walk ins.” its not said snidely, just matter of fact. as if she was seasoned with dealing with these kind of customers.

the man of topic strides in then, carrying a few bags of take-out that he drops carelessly onto the counter. he doesn’t m look unlike any other day, a loose white sleeveless shirt with a low hanging v-neck that just invited attention to his skin. the swirls of black ink made permanent by his hand only. though that was the advantage of this field and owning your own business on top of it.

sukuna was prepared to ignore the clientele planted at front desk, until he did a double take. those vermilion eyes took you in, morphing from speculation, to shock, a pinch of awe, then back to postulation.

“what are you doing here?”

a small frown mars you face. you didn’t actually consider that perhaps sukuna wouldn’t want you here. it was one thing to know the guy, but whether you wanted to accept it or not, you weren’t just another customer. so you unsurely respond with, “getting a tattoo?”

the snort he gives isn't one of annoyance. in fact its almost comforting to see the minuscule curl of his lips until they start to part, “yeah, missing something aren’t you?”

you realize with a frown that he’s referring to his brother.

“i have other friends.”

that slow smile wides as he gives your friend a brief look of appreciation. suddenly all those years of witnessing him cart his flings around rise to the forefront of your mind. really nothing rarely changed. “ i can see that.”

his gaze cuts back to you, “what are you getting? your boyfriends name?”

you cant tell if he’s teasing, fishing or a combination of them both.

he turns to lean over the counter, arms flexing at the action and pinches the fresh design still hot from the printer. you resist the urge to shuffle in place as he inspects the image with more interest than there were lines. it was hardly all that complex, just as you intended.

sukuna finally voices his opinion, to no surprise of your own. “yeah? kind of small isn’t it?”

“its my first sukuna,” you drawl.

you realize too late that the wording isnt best around him.

“no kidding.”

he tugs a styrofoam box free from the plastic bag before gesturing to you with a tilt of his head.

“alright, lets knock it out.”

you look to the woman expecting her to complain about his pending appointments but she only returns it with a pointed look. when it came down to it, what the boss wanted goes.

right then.

turning, you address your friend who seemed more invested in watching sukuna’s departure. “are you coming?”

her gaze snaps to you and she doesn’t even bother to pretend. she shrugs, “you may not be squeamish about needles but i am.” her hand waves vaguely towards the lounge area near the coffee station and stack of assorted snacks. “i’ll come running if you scream though,” she teases as you turn down the hall.

sukuna’s voice carries from the right in guidance where you find him setting his food off to the side. the room is neat. though you don’t know what you were expecting given the health expectations lining his work. then again, you’d spent the better part of the decade watching him cart week old pizza boxes out of his room so it was hardly a baseless assumption.

aside from the desk of tools and variety of inks the only other defining feature was the wall at the back. there was no rhyme or direction to the madness. the once white wall was littered with varying penmanships and messages. almost like an autograph book. some derogatory, others genuinely thankful for his work - you think you see a few numbers too.

the cushion of the seat protests under his weight as he rolls to the center of the room. he has the stencil of your chosen art held up in expectation.

“where is this pretty little thing going?”

“oh my rib- here on the right.” you think nothing of bringing up the hem of your shirt to expose the skin just under the curve of your breast.

he almost looks impressed, though there is some doubt. he wheels closer and gives no warning as his hand palpates the area. “over the bone? that’s daring for your first tattoo, princess.”

the name was nothing new, an accompaniment to yuuji’s ‘brat’.

part of you actually grateful that its sukuna. the entire shop had good reviews but it was best known for his talent. besides, the charge was already sitting on your card.

“i can handle it.”

he’s still squinting at your side, fingers tickling at your skin.

“yeah?” he answers absently. nimble digits you didn't think had any taste for delicacy carefully peel the plastic from the stencil. he doesn’t second guess himself in the slightest before pressing it to your skin.

when he pulls away, the chair follows him as he collects a hand mirror from his desk to reflect the design back to you.

“double sure?” he’s still rallying your resolve, but there is a hint of warning to his voice as professionalism seeps in.

with a firm nod you seal the deal,” yeah.”

“aright, pin up your shirt out of the way. tuck it into your bra if you want.”

you were expecting this already, given the location you’d decided on. with sukuna that action comes effortlessly without thought. it was no different than the times he’d seen you in your bathing suit, your brain reasoned. at least you still had your pants this time.

sukuna rests back into a lean against his small desk. absently you note that his eyes haven't left you once since you’d entered the room.

“eager little thing aren't you?”

but its sukuna.

you shrug.“ i guess. kind of been saving up for this one.”

the noise he makes is non-committal as he nods to the angled chair.

without your shirt there was no barrier between yourself and the leather. you expected the cold chill but the lack of stickiness kind of surprised you. once again you were reminded of the indisputable list of reviews at your fingertips.

sukuna goes about collecting the materials to disinfect your skin, angling the bottle and cotton over the trash can to catch the excess drops. satisfied with the saturation, he slides back.

you try to absorb the brief shock you feel when he applies the alcohol to your skin. it was hardly a substitute for actual bracing to come but it was good practice. when you look up, you catch his gaze again.

he’d been more observant in these last few minutes than you could ever recall sukuna caring before. maybe it was the job. though the thought of him excelling at customer service has you fighting a snort.

“cold,” you supply and he gives another grunt.

he chucks the cotton ball into the trash with all the efficiency of a man who has made a sport out of it and probably keeps score.

deciding on a solid color eliminated the need for him to break away to change shades, eliminating any surplus time keeping you in this chair.

a gloved hand braces your side, pinching the skin, while the other holding the gun rests against your sternum. when the motor starts you take a careful breath in. sukuna’s eyes raise at the sound.

“not nervous?”

you blink, expecting him to just get to it.

“uh, not really? i’ve never really been afraid of needles.”

he pauses. just when you part your lips to ask what wrong the buzzing starts.

its impossible not to tense at the first bite of the needle. but you fight the urge to jerk. it stings. the vibration of the motor is uncomfortable against your ribcage but it's not unbearable. you certainly wouldn't cry.

sukuna seems to notice it as well.

“not going to lie thought you’d be more of a cry baby? weren't you the one sobbing after you stubbed your toe.”

you latch onto the idle chatter even if it's a jibe.

“i was eleven and i sprained that toe.”

he gives you a quick glance. “sure, princess. completely called for the waterworks.”

you snort. “yeah well it made me stronger. im barely affected today.”

your words are followed by a shift of his hand as it turns to follow a line, the movement pressing firmly against the underside of your breast. you're too attentive to the needle pinching at your skin to take notice.

but sukuna does, eyes narrowing without your awareness.

“yeah, i can see that.”

rather than closing your eyes to block out the pain, you find a more comforting distraction in tracing the lines of his tattoos with your gaze. you can hardly make out the first tattoo he’d gotten at the age of seventeen after forging his parents signature.

the abstract design had now branched out, interlocking with new styles to map out the formation of a sleeve. it was almost like his own branded language. a dialect of bold shapes and bands. you’d never thought to actually ask what his tattoos meant. nor did you expect an honest answer.

sukuna works rather quickly and efficiently while your mind wandered. even if he hadn’t squeezed you in during his lunch break this felt like the usual pace for him. he looked so in the zone as he followed the pre-made lines to perfection.

you weren’t the model customer, still having your brief moments of weakness but he rolled with the interruptions better than you expected. sukuna was brash growing up and didn’t tolerate nonsensical people. you’d had your fair share of opportunities to be chewed out by him.

and earned a reasonable amount of them, though your returning attitude said otherwise.

but this sukuna was softer, if you could put it like that. he knew the right time to give you breaks but didn’t let your nerves settle too much. when he wasn’t adding a layer to permanency to your skin, an errant finger would smooth over the swelling flesh.

more than once you heard him throw out a quiet good girl. that you knew was meant to be encouraging but it came with additional implications that tickled your skin.

he tells you that you should be grateful that the artwork doesn’t need any shading. that it was never a good fit for beginners.

your chest expands the furthest it had in the last half hour when he finally rolls back.

“alright, princess, go ahead and take a look.”

you take the offered mirror again and angle it to take in the fresh piece. the reflection you get back is- amazing. you’d been so concentrated?? on micromanaging the pain that you failed to take in the little details he’d added along with the original design.

as if reading your thoughts, he snorts. “it's not my art if i don't leave my mark. you can tell me it looks good you know.”

if you didn't know any better, you’d say he was authentic in his attempt to bait your approval.

and you had no reason not to provide.

your legs are a little shaky but you manage to balance yourself before brining the eldest itadori into a hug. sukuna goes stiff for a moment before returning the embrace and doesn’t resist when you press your face into his shoulder. there’s an awkward pat before they release each other from the hold.

sukuna .. before he’s shrugging you off.

“god, what a noob. at least let me cover it up. you’re going to irritate the skin.”

when he turns back to rummage through his desk you note the hint of a flush creeping up his nape. you know better than to mention it, instead just smiling at his back.

there is a scowl on his face as he applies the cotton square to your skin and tapes it in place.

“please do not itch this shit. i don’t care if you feel like your skin is going to fall off.”

he presses a small tube of antibiotic into your hand.

“and apply this daily. you don't need it drying out. “

you’re grateful for the little slip of printed instructions that follow. you were able to remember the sensible directions but it couldn't hurt to have additional guidance when you started to question the progress.

“oh and no sex.”

that was definitely not on the list.

sukuna raises a brow in all seriousness. “what? if you get your blood pumping too much.”

you call him on his bullshit,” this small? hardly. “

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “alright, try it yourself if you want. i charge for touch ups though.”

the two of you size each other up. just like old times.

with a sigh you relent, “fine, no sex.”

“good, see me in two weeks.”

his words stop you short. it wasn’t as if you needed anything added and he wasn’t a physician checking on your progress. if anything, you would only revisit your artist if there was a problem.

“what for?”

the dawning grin would follow you for the next fourteen days.

“to make sure you didn’t have sex.”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna blessings #sukuna ryomen

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dbzebra · 5 years ago

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Surpassing the Strongest

Im back on Marten bs lol

This is something Ive wanted to do for a while now. A 28th World Tournament / End of Z retelling, which focuses on Goten’s plans to follow in his fathers footsteps like Goku originally planned back in the Buu Saga. Ignores DBS obviously. Anyway this is just a oneshot for now but may possibly make it into a longfic.

Enjoy!!

May, Age 784.

Ten years of peace had passed since Majin Buu's defeat.

The cool spring air blew in from an open window of Orange Star High School. Son Goten was lost in thought as the lecture droned on from in front of him. He couldn't hear what the teacher was saying. Rather, he didn't really care. He wanted to be outside and enjoying the day. Flying around or out on a date.

Ya know, something that was actually fun.

Something, anything but being cooped up in a stuffy building all day on such a nice afternoon. If Goten closed his eyes, he could feel himself soaring through the clouds on the Flying Nimbus, the wind in his hair and the whole world below him. Ever since he learned to fly, it's been his absolute favorite thing to do.

"Man, I wanna go to the beach!" Goten whined to himself and continued daydreaming about the endless possibilities of summer fun when he heard two kids whispering from the back of the classroom that piqued his attention. Super sensitive hearing really came in handy sometimes!

"Did you hear? Mr. Satan won't be participating in the World Martial Arts Tournament next week. He announced his retirement yesterday."

"What, really?! Maybe I should enter then. Now I'll actually stand a chance."

"Noooo! Mr. Satan can't retire!" Another kid chimed in, slamming his fists down on his desk in despair. "He's my hero! The strongest guy in the whole universe!"

"It's true man. I saw it on TV. He's all bald now too. Mr. Buu is gonna sweep with him gone. He's unbeatable next to Mr. Satan!"

"Awww… Yeah, you're right. Buu is unstoppable! He's never even been touched in a fight once!"

Goten snickered to himself. If only they knew the truth. "Speak for yourself. Me and Trunks almost beat him when we were fused together!"

The more Goten thought about it, the more it intrigued him.

He always loved the World Tournament, ever since he was a kid. Growing up, Goten loved hearing stories from his dad, Yamcha and Krillin about their fights from the old days. He collected all tons of World Tournament merchandise over the years, most notably of which were figures of every finalist leading back to the very first Tournament. The premium edition figurine of his father as a teenager during the 23rd Tournament was his most prized possession. He had to send in like one hundred postcards to a sweepstakes to win. The day he got the letter in the mail saying that he won, he almost flipped.

The news of the upcoming Tournament re-ignited a fire in the young Saiyan.

"Maybe I should enter! I'll run it by Mar later..."

__________________________________________________________

The final bell rang as class was let out for the day.

Goten stretched his arms out wide upon walking out the front doors of Orange Star High with an extra pip in his step. It was finally the weekend!

He spotted his girlfriend leaning against one of the pillars at the front gate, sporting her signature twintails. She was waiting for him! He grinned and picked up his pace a little bit. Marron twirled a strand of blonde hair in her fingers as she absent-mindedly watched a capsule-plane go by from above.

Being a sophomore, sixteen yer old Marron was on the cheer squad and wrote for the school newspaper. Like most girls her age, Marron loved shopping, but her true passion was writing. It all started when she used to read fantasy books and write in her diary as a little girl. She hoped to work for a big fashion designer as a writer when she got older.

"Hey there, gorgeous." Goten said while he snuck up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

Marron flinched in surprise, but lit up when she heard her boyfriend's voice. She swung around and jumped into his arms, planting a kiss on her boyfriend's face. "Goten! It's great to see you!" Marron said and kissed him again, just for good measure. He definitely wasn't going to object.

“You too! So how was class?

“Boring. I’m starting to see why you and Trunks skip all the time.” Marron huffed, and then playfully poked his chest. “I guess being a delinquent like you has its perks~!”

“Told ya!” He said with a cheeky grin, eager to tell her about what happened today. “Anyway, ready to go?”

Marron smiled and grabbed his hand affectionately. A date was just what she needed right now. "Sure! Where are we going~?"

"There's an ice cream stand near the park about three blocks that way." He replied, gesturing over his shoulder with this thumb. "I'm friends with the guy who runs it!"

"Sounds great! It's such a nice day out! And I don't have to be home anytime soon anyway, so we have the whole afternoon to ourselves!" Marron chirped and playfully pulled him along.

After a bit of walking, they reached their destination . It was one of the more popular spots, so there wasn't a surprise there was a line.

"If I don't get something in my stomach soon, I might just eat my own hand!" Goten whined, his stomach growled almost as if it was agreeing.

"I'd pay to see that." Marron laughed.

Soon enough, it was their turn.

"Well well, look who it is! My number one customer!" The man at the stand said. He was an older man, about Goku's height. He had a kind face with short grayish hair. "Welcome back, Goten!"

"Hey Mr. Sherbert!"

"On a hot date?!" Mr. Sherbert said as he winked at the two teens. "You'd better treat her right, you hear?"

"Yeah! I'd never do anything bad. Right Mar?" Goten grinned. Marron blushed a bit from next to him.

"So what can I get for you two kids today?"

Goten already knew what he wanted; he had thought about it on the way over. "You first."

"Hmm..." Marron scanned the options until she found just the right one. I'll take a medium sized scoop of mint on a waffle cone, please." Marron said, eyeing the green-colored ice cream in the picture.

"Comin right up, miss! And how 'bout for you, big guy? The usual?"

"You bet!"

The older man laughed out loud. "I'd expect no less! A triple deluxe cone of vanilla, strawberry and chocolate with rainbow sprinkles, comin' right up!"

"How much do I owe ya?" Goten said, digging into his pocket for his wallet.

"This one's on the house, kid." Mr. Sherbert said, waving off Goten's attempt to hand him money.

Goten and Marron both looked shocked.

"What, really?"

"Yep. Don't worry 'bout it."

"Wow! Thanks a lot!"

"Just make sure you show this nice young lady a fun time on your date, okay?" Mr. Sherbert said with a kind smile, as he and Goten shared a laugh.

"I promise!"

After that, Goten and Marron got their food then took a seat on the grass in the park across the street and ate their snacks together.

"So, tell me. What's the big news?" Marron asked as she finished off her food, feeding off his anticipation. She could tell it was something big- whatever it was. "You've been antsy all afternoon!"

Goten fell backwards onto the grass and put his hands behind his head. "Well, I heard something interesting in class today!"

"You mean you actually paid attention?"

"Nope!" Goten declared without hesitating one bit.

Marron rolled her eyes with a giggle. She expected that response.

"It's about the World Martial Arts Tournament."

"Oh yeah!!” Marron exclaimed. “That’s next week, right? What happened?"

"Mr. Satan retired. And I'm considering entering. I’m sure Trunks and my dad will too.”

Marron gasped and clasped her hands together joyfully. "Oh my God, Goten, you totally should!" Marron exclaimed, putting her hands on his knee. "It would be so cool! Plus, it'll be like a little vacation for us!"

"You really think so?"

"Of course! You'll do great!" Marron declared happily. She gently took his large hand in her smaller ones and stared deep into his eyes. "You've been training so hard these past few years. I know that better than anyone. You said you wanted to surpass Goku someday, right? Well this is your biggest chance. I’ll be your cheerleader the whole way!” Marron declared that as if it were a love declaration. But it didn’t matter what place he came in. To her, Son Goten was already number one.

Goten liked the sound of that. He sat up and stole a quick kiss from Marron's lips when she wasn't paying attention. He pulled back and saw that the blonde was staring down at her dress, a scarlet-red hue covering her cheeks from ear-to-ear.

“You're the best, Mar. And you're right. I'm entering. And I'm going to win!"

"W-W-Warn me before you do that! I-I-I wasn't ready!" She stammered out, fixing her hair to distract herself from the sudden kiss. It was only a moment, but she felt the love and appreciation he had for her in it.

A sly grin made it's way onto the half-Saiyan's lips. "Okay then. I'm warning you now."

Marron didn't have time to react as she screamed with laughter when he pounced on her a moment later. They fell back onto the grass together and started making out, not caring who saw them.

_____________________________________________________________

It was almost dusk when Goten and Marron parted ways for the night. As the young Saiyan approached his home in the mountains from above, the sky had become a brilliant orange and red hue. It was like a wild flame slowly dying out into the calm darkness of the night. Sunsets were always soothing for him. When he was still a small child, Goten used to watch the sunset and think of his dad, wondering if he saw the same sunset from Other World.

Goten dropped down onto the grass in front of his house; smoke coming from the chimney. Goten smiled widely. He could smell dinner from here! "Oh boy! My favorite! Nothing beats Mom's cooking!"

“I’m home!” Goten called upon walking in.

“Hey kiddo! Grab a seat, it’s chow time!” Goku waved to his son, already seated at the table.

Chi-Chi placed the last plate on the table and then sat down herself. “Welcome home, honey!”

Goten sat down and together the family of three started eating. Chi-Chi paced herself while the boys ate in typical Son fashion-- as if it were their last meal ever (and seemingly never even came up to breathe). Chi-Chi sighed with a smile. She was used to it by now.

“Man Chi-Chi, you outdid yourself! This is really great!!” Goku exclaimed and went back for a fifth helping. “Your food is the best in the whole world!”

Chi-Chi touched her cheeks, bashfully smiling. She was even blushing a bit. “Oh, stop teasing, Goku. You're embarrassing me!”

“I’m serious!” Goku continued.

“Um, Mom…” Goten started hesitantly. He scratched the side of his cheek, thinking how to word his next question. “Sorry to ask this so suddenly, but… can I take a week off from school?” He said and then braced himself for the ‘no.’

Without flinching, Chi-Chi put down the tea she was sipping and smiled. “Planning a romantic getaway with your girlfriend~? I don’t mind, but if something happens are you prepared to take responsibility? A girl’s virginity is a special thing, Goten!”

Goten instantly did a spit take. He hacked and coughed and Goku patted him on the back. Once the teen caught his breath, he went pure red from embarrassment. Or was it from shock? Probably both.

“What I do with Mar is none of--- W-Wait! There’s no romantic getaway!” Goten practically shouted.

Talking about that type of stuff with Trunks was one thing, but it was the absolute LAST topic of conversation Son Goten ever in a million years wanted to have with his mother.

“Oh honey, stop being so dramatic. I’m no fool. I know how much you two love each other, it’s only natural!”

“Mom! Enough! I’m not talking about this with you!”

In the years since Buu, most things didn’t bother the Son matriarch anymore. Chi-Chi let things slide. She even started wearing her hair down or in a ponytail more often than not. And became brazent with her playful teasing. Too brazent for Goten’s own good. First Gohan, now him. Goku almost felt bad for them. Almost. He found it amusing.

Goten slapped his cheeks and quickly shook off the image before his mind could wander any further to any thoughts that might make him not able to ride the Flying Nimbus anymore.

“Besides, 18 would kill me, revive me with the Dragon Balls, and then kill me again!!” Goten said, getting a laugh from his parents. They were laughing because they knew he was right.

“Of course, honey. Now what’s the real reason?” She knew Goten would likely skip anyway. Goten didn’t think she knew, but she did. She was smarter than she looked. But still, she appreciated that he came to them first, whatever the reason was.

“I want to enter the World Tournament.” Goten declared, surprising both of his parents.

“I’m in too!!” Goku replied with the same confident grin his son had. Goku had a feeling Goten would. “There’s this guy I’ve been keeping an eye on lately. He’s got some insane power within him, more than he realizes. I have a hunch he’ll be entering the Tournament next week.”

Though he didn’t say this aloud, Son Goku had another reason he wanted to enter the Tournament. A lesson that his master had taught him long ago.

“A hunch?” Chi-Chi asked, somewhat worried. She had gotten used to the peace again. They all had. The last thing she wanted was another creep with an inflated ego dragging her boys into another universal death battle. “Sounds like bad news to me.”

“No need to worry. This guy’s totally pure of heart.” Goku replied, easing his wife’s fears.

“So who is he then?” Goten said, in between heaps of food. “Do we know him?”

Goku flashed his signature wide grin. “Sorry! Not telling. You’ll have to wait and see for yourself!”

Goten slouched back in his seat and frowned. “That’s lame. You’re no fun.”

“We’ll have to train for the Tournament just to be sure! I have a feeling this is gonna be a fun one!”

“Yeah!”

“I had a feeling this day would come sooner or later.” Chi-Chi said, sighing slightly. It was tough for her seeing her baby boy growing up into a man. He was almost done highschool, in a loving committed relationship, and now following in his father’s footsteps as a fighter. Soon he’d be out of the house and out on his own. The thought almost made her tear up, but she supported him nonetheless. The Son matriarch excused herself from the dinner table to hurry into the hall closet and pulled out a large white box with a bow on it.

Upon returning, Chi-Chi glanced to Goku for a moment and then handed her son the box. “I know your eighteenth birthday isn’t for a while, but I… we wanted you to have this before your big day. I made it myself.”

Goten raised an eyebrow at the box, shaking it slightly. It didn’t sound like a game or anything like that was inside. Now he was really curious. He carefully lifted the lid off of the box to see a brand new gi. His current one was fine and all, but it was getting a little too small and worn out over the past months of consistent training.

“Whoa! This is…” He gasped.

It was an orange gi, much like his father had worn for decades. But what made it different from Goku’s was instead of blue, Goten’s new gi had a black undershirt, and matching black belt, wristbands and boots.

Goten smiled as wide as could be as he lifted the gi out of the box to get a better look at it. “This is great! Thank you so much! I’m gonna go try it on!!” He said and ran to his bedroom to change.

Goku and Chi-Chi idled about in the meantime, cleaning up from dinner when the teenaged Saiyan returned shortly after.

Chi-Chi’s eyes lit up like stars while Goku proudly beamed from beside her.

“Oh, look at you! You look so handsome!” Chi-Chi gushed, fussing all over her son despite his protests. “You look just like your father did when he and I reunited at the Tournament all those years ago! Ahh, those were the days~!”

“Yup! Lookin’ just like his old man!” Goku said. “Except for the hair!”

“Hey! Don’t hate!” Goten whined. “This hairstyle is stylish!”

Goten had recently changed his hairstyle to stand out from his father. Instead of his father’s signature palm-tree hairstyle, Son Goten let his hair grow out. It still shot out in most directions, but was now much longer and shaggier, reached the back of his neck. He liked it a lot more. Even better, Marron said it made him look super cute. So he decided to stick with it!

“Training begins tomorrow!”

Goten smirked. He couldn’t wait.

The next day, Son Goku came into Goten’s room bright and early, ready to start. They didn’t have much time to prepare! He found the teen was curled up in a ball, clutching his pillow for dear life.

“Rise and shine, kiddo!” Goku swung open the curtains, bringing the hot bright rays of sunlight right onto Goten’s face.

Goten winced and half-opened one eye. “...Dad? It’s ...7 AM! On a Saturday. Come back in like three hours.” Goten grimaced and then pulled the covers over his head, hoping his father would go away. It was too early for this! He was in the middle of an awesome dream too!

“No way. We’ve only got six days till the tournament! We’re gonna train for three days, and then rest for three days.” Goku said and yanked the covers off the bed entirely. “We’re getting breakfast out on the road, so get up or you’ll miss it!”

Goten groaned even louder than before, finally sitting up. The teen rubbed his eyes and yawned loudly. His hair shot out in every direction even more so than normal. Under most circumstances he wouldn’t mind early morning training, but his bed was too comfy to leave it right now! If he went back to sleep now, maybe he could continue the dream he was having! “Can’t today be a rest day?”

“Nope. Now be outside in ten minutes or your mother said no dinner for you!” Goku grinned teasingly, knowing that was his son’s weakness.

“Oh come onnn! That’s--. Ugh. Fiiine!” Goten whined. “Cheater.”

After brushing his teeth (still half asleep) Goten threw on his new gi. Knowing how their sparring sessions usually went, he hoped it wouldn’t get destroyed after not even having it a full day.

He tiredly dragged his feet out to the kitchen where his mother was waiting for him.

“Never shoulda entered this stupid Tournament…” He mumbled to himself and yawned again.

Chi-Chi shook her head, laughing. “Oh hush. It’s not that bad. You know how your father gets in times like this.”

“Yeah, yeah. He could’ve at least waited another hour though!” Goten said and then went outside to see his father talking with Gohan as little Pan ran around at their feet.

“Oh, hey Gohan!” Goten said happily.

“I see Dad’s puttin’ you through the ringer, huh?” Gohan chuckled when he saw his brother drag his feet out onto the grass. “I was down that road plenty of times growing up.”

Goku had traded his signature orange gi for a blue gi with dark bluish-green pants, black shoes and orange wristbands. He still dearly treasured the Turtle School colors, but wanted something different for a change.

“Uncle Goten!!” Pan cried happily. The toddler wore a little red gi, a present she got from Goku and Chi-Chi for Christmas the previous winter. Pan jumped into the air and came flying at him like a football player trying to take down the quarterback.

Goten braced himself for the hug just as Pan slammed into him, laughing. “Hey, squirt!”

“I’m not a squirt, I grew two inches!”

Pan giggled. She loved her uncle so much. He was like a big kid, but also an adult! Pan didn’t really get how that was possible, but she just wanted to be just like him. He showed her all the funnest games, and always knew all the coolest places to go! Plus whenever he visited he always snuck her candy when Gohan wasn’t looking.

“Guess what Uncle Goten? Daddy says I can enter the World Toonament!”

Goten couldn’t help but laugh at her pronunciation of the word tournament. “Wait, what? You’re sure it’s okay if she enters, Gohan?”

Gohan nodded. “When she heard Mr. Satan used to be the Champ, it’s all she wanted to do. Videl and I agreed that since there’s no threats anymore, it wouldn’t be a big deal. There’s no Junior division this time, but we’ll all be there anyway. So no harm done.”

“You’re right about that! Besides, I think she can give Goten a challenge!” Goku said, winking up at Pan.

Pan tugged on Goten’s pant leg. “Is it true you’re comin’ fishin’ with us?”

“Sure is, Pan! Come on! You can ride on my shoulders!” Goten said and picked the little one up. She felt so tall!

“Alright, we’re heading off!” Goku said. Pan cheered while Goten smirked and pumped his fists. Now that he was fully awake, he was ready for action.

Gohan trusted his father more than anyone else in the world. He went over to affectionately pat his daughter’s head. “Bye, Panny. Be good for Grandpa and Uncle Goten!”

“Okay Daddy!”

And with that, the three were off. Gohan watched them go and then went back inside for his morning coffee.

The three followed the dirt path to a pretty meadow nearby. Dew glistened on the blades of grass, as the sun continued making its way over the mountain horizon. A river gently flowed into a waterfall that spilled into a sprawling crystal clear lake.. It brought back a wave of nostalgia for Goku as he could remember the countless times he went here to fish with Grandpa Gohan growing up.

Goten placed Pan down and stretched as the toddler immediately ran over to the river’s edge and stared in awe.

"Alright before we start training, whaddya say we get some breakfast? I’m starving!" Goku said, already prepping.

"Sure! I got it covered! I’ll get us some fish!”

"My favorite!” Goku said. No matter how many times he ate Paozu tuna, it didn’t get old.

In the meantime, Goku gathered firewood and then fired a tiny ki blast to start a fire. Pan helped by throwing sticks to make it bigger. He placed three large wooden stakes over the fire, one for each of them to roast their breakfast on.

Goten got down to his boxers and dove into the river. It was cold, yet refreshing. If he wasn't fully awake yet, he was now. The teen swam around a bit until some huge fish caught his eye. Common for this area, the Paozu fish were at least five times his size, and normally blue and white in color (but there were other colorations as well). Four of them spotted Goten at once and rushed towards their prey, each with the intent to swallow him whole.

Goten became motionless, waiting for the right moment. As the first approached, he swam down and kicked it in the side, killing it instantly. The teen then disposed of the other three aquatic attackers in a similar fashion.

Goten swam around and gathered his food. One for each of them and one extra! They could split the last one.

With their breakfast caught, the three generations of Sons sat around the fire, enjoying the morning together while they ate their breakfast in typical Saiyan fashion.

Goku burped and rubbed his stomach upon finishing. “Man, that hit the spot! Now it’s time for training!”

“I wanna train too, Grandpa!” Pan exclaimed.

Goku ruffled Pan’s hair, making her giggle. “You like flying, right?” He asked, knowing the answer already.

“Mhmm!” The four-year old gleefully said, raising her little hands into fists.

“Alright, well how about this? I want you to fly around the world as fast as you can!”

Pan’s little eyes lit up. “Really? Okay! Can Uncle Goten come with me??!”

Goten laughed and knelt down to be on eye level with the toddler. “I’d love to, Panny, but I gotta train! Next time I’ll go with you! And I’ll show you something real cool!”

“Pinky promise?” She said, holding up her little finger.

“Of course.” Goten grinned and they shook on it.

“Alright, bye Grandpa! Bye Uncle Goten!! I’ll be back soon!!” Pan waved and took off to the east.

Once Pan was out of sight, the Son boys could truly focus on their training.

“So, what’s on the agenda??”

"Okay, Goten. First, I need you to power up as high as you can possibly go." Goku folded his arms and smiled confidently. "I know things have been easy in these peace times, but I wanna see the progress you've made. You've been training primarily with Trunks, right?"

Goten nodded. "Yeah. At first it was pretty casual but these past two years or so we've really gotten serious."

Goku had full faith in his son. Though Goten was suppressing his energy, Goku could feel the sheer amount of power he had within him. In his fight with Buu, even as a child, Goten showed glimpses having more potential than even Gohan. At only seven years old, he became a Super Saiyan just by sparring for fun. And when fused together, Gotenks was one of the strongest fighters in the entire universe.

"...Alright, then. Here goes!" Goten smirked. He then took a deep breath and let out a mighty roar as his power skyrocketed. "HRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

A wild golden aura erupted around the teenager's body while lighting violently sparked around him. Goten's muscles bulged somewhat while his shaggy hair stood completely upright, becoming sharp and jagged. First, Goten's eyes turned to an emerald green. Then, his dark black hair became the signature golden-yellow. The lightning increased in intensity as Goten didn't stop there and kept powering up until a burst of light shot from the teens body.

There stood Son Goten in a fully-powered Super Saiyan 2 state. The splitting image of his father. His facial features were relaxed and he was in complete control of his energy; a far cry from ten years ago when he had gotten carried away at the Tournament.

"How's this?" Goten asked, smirking slightly. “At first, it took a lot of rage to transform, like I had to picture Majin Buu hurting Mar or Mom again. But it’s easy now!”

"Amazing, Goten! Wow! I'm so proud of you!" Goku beamed with pride at how far his son has come. At only seventeen years old, Son Goten had mastered Super Saiyan 2. Goku wouldn't be surprised if he was on the edge of unlocking Super Saiyan 3!

"Me and Trunks are just about equals."

Equals?! They were equals? If that really was the case, Goku could truly put his worries about leaving the earth to the next generation to rest. "No wonder You got so strong so fast!"

"How would you compare us to Majin Buu? Like a ballpark."

"You mean the evil one? Hard to say exactly, but you're definitely stronger than Vegeta and I were at the time. If both of you attacked together at full power, you could have possibly beaten him before he split good from evil and lost most of his power. But you know more than anyone how unpredictable Buu can be. Even though he's good now, you have to be careful. If you get matched up against him, you can't afford many mistakes against a guy like that.”

Goten pumped his fists happily. "Right! Thanks, Dad! So, what now?"

"Power down to normal. Goku said and slipped into a fighting stance. "Let's have a quick spar. This time, no transforming.”

"Huh? Are you sure? But you'll kick my ass!"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. I'm gettin' old ya know! Now come on.”

Goten nodded and after a deep breath, his hair and eyes returned to their normal black color. He clenched his fists and then slipped into a fighting stance. “Just watch the gi, okay? It’s brand new, and I was hopin’ to surprise Mar with it.”

Goku smirked. “Sure. I’ll let you have the first move.”

“You’ll regret that!!” Goten instantly burst forward, appearing as only a blur. He swung a volley of powerful kicks directly at his father's face.

Goku smirked as dodged with ease but Goten was relentless. Kick after kick he didn't stop. That continued until Goku grabbed Goten by the leg, and prepared to counter. "Got ya."

"Not so fast!" With his other leg, Goten swung but that too was caught. Goten squirmed and fought to break loose, but Goku’s grip only tightened. Growling, Goten spread his arms wide, unleashing an Explosive Wave at point blank range.

Goku was hit dead on and lost his grip, staggering back somewhat as Goten landed. "OWW! Good one! That actually hurt! But I'm not even getting started yet!"

Goku vanished from sight and reappeared behind his son. Goten swerved around just in time to see his father pulling his fist back, ready to strike.

However the blow went right through his son as if it were an illusion.

“An afterimage...” Goku said, smirking.

Two copies of Goten reappeared to Goku’s side. Then, the real Goten appeared from above and swung a ferocious kick at Goku, but that too was nothing but an illusion.

“W-What?!” Goten exclaimed and jumped backwards, searching around for his father’s energy.

“I invented that move! Ya gotta be better than that!!” Goku said from a few yards away, smiling mischievously with his arms crossed.

Goten ran towards Goku again, but this time Goku vanished completely. The teen flipped backwards just as Goku came into sight, narrowly dodging the counter. Goten burst forward and immediately slammed Goku in the back of the head, this time hitting finally it’s mark.

Goku was sent careening down towards the ground, but he caught himself and safely landed on his own two feet. He winced, rubbing his head where Goten hit him. “He’s tougher than I remember!”

Goten continued his assault, flying down towards his father and firing multiple energy waves at Goku.

Goku deflected the blasts away from himself, sending the blasts far away from the fight to explode in the distance. Goten charged a bigger blast in his left hand, firing it directly forward. Goku stayed absolutely still, waiting for Goten's blast. At the last moment, Goten curved the blast up and it exploded into multiple blasts that shot in every direction, wildly zig-zagging around without any sense of direction or course.

Goku watched each blast intensely, waiting for the right moment.

“He’s distracted!” Goten blasted forwards, head first, at full force, slamming directly into Goku’s back.

Pulling his arms back into the signature pose, Goten his hands together. “KAAAAA… MEEEEE…” The blue energy began to build as Goten’s ki spiked. “HAAAAA… MEEEEE…”

Goku recovered and came to a sliding halt on the grassy terrain. The Saiyan hadn’t felt this excited in years. Goku smirked and raised his power level to match Goten’s. Just then, Goten vanished.

Goku’s eyes widened and crossed his arms over his face, just as Goten appeared in front of him.

“HAAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

The blast hit Goku dead on, creating a super massive explosion that could be felt all the way at the Son house from far away.

Goten jumped backwards to gain distance. The teen hovered there, his senses on full awareness, waiting for his father to emerge from the smoke. A palm-tree hairstyle and bluish-green gi appeared through the smoke soon enough, completely unharmed. He was smiling!

“I see you’ve finally mastered the Instant Transmission. Great work!” Goku grinned, folding his arms.

The Instant Transmission technique. Goten had asked his father to teach him the attack about two years ago when he started his training. Right around the time he started dating Marron. Goten motives were as clear as day.

“Yeah! Thanks again!” Goten said.

“You won’t fool me twice with that move though. Come on, let’s keep going!”

“You bet.”

They rushed each other at the same time and collided. A powerful yet invisible tremor shook the area as their fists met. The father and son duo crashed blow for blow as they rose higher in the air. Their attacks grew more intense the higher they went.

Eventually they disappeared, and could only be seen by the tremors echoing throughout the grassy training grounds.

At first, Goten traded blows evenly with his dad, countering each blow with ease. But as their struggle continued, Goku slowly raised his power and started overwhelming his father. He managed to land a crushing blow to the gut, making Goten falter. Goku went to punch him but Goten phased out of the way, reappearing some significant distance away and hid his energy singal.

“Now’s my chance!”

Goten got into position and powered up to full. In an instant he pulled his hands back, charged two blue blasts of ki in his hands and fired. The beam exploded in a marvelous blue light, hitting its target dead on. “Gotcha.”

Goten waited for movement. But when the smoke cleared and Goku was gone! The teen growled when he saw his father simply dusting off his gi on the grass below.

“Dammit! He’s not even hurt!”

To Goku’s own surprise, he was just a bit out of breath. ”If I’m not careful, he actually may get the advantage. He’s even further along in his training than I originally thought.” He smirked and then raised his hands close to the center of his face with his fingers spread out toward his eyes. “This was fun, Goten, but you’re not winning this fight.”

Goten braced himself and shut his eyes. “Oh crap!”

“SOLAR FLARE!”

A blinding white light exploded from the Saiyan father’s body as if a second sun was right there on the battlefield with them, covering everything in sight.

Despite being temporarily blind, Goten’s other senses kicked into high gear. He felt where Goku was going to appear and attempted to counter, but missed every attack. Goku simply side-stepped or caught everything Goten threw at him.

Goku smirked, reappearing right behind his son. "Come on! Focus! You're better than that, Goten!" He said right before flipping behind Goten and kneeing his son right in the back.

Goten was flown forward as he grunted from the impact of the hard hit, trying to regain control of his body as his sight finally began returning to him.

Goku pursued his son, pounding him into the ground causing cracks and the ground itself to rise up from the impact. Goku then grabbed his son by the legs and threw him into the air. Goku flew straight up, stopping above Goten. He threw a punch at Goten but Goten managed to duck, countering with a jab to the gut.

Goku vanished and kicked his son upwards, and with a flare his energy unleashed a monstrous kiai that had Goten flying backwards, unable to recover.

A boot connected with the boy’s face and he was sent shooting towards the ground yet again.

“Try and stop this one!!” Goku cried and unleashed a volley of rapid-fire blasts. Goten’s head was still spinning from the kick, so he didn’t have time to block the dozens of golden Ki spheres that crashed into his body one after another seemingly without end.

Finally, Goku built up one last, super-large energy ball for the final attack.

Goten had just enough time to land on his feet and catch the ball of ki. He grunted as he felt himself being pushed back, but with a flare of his aura--almost turning Super Saiyan until he remebered the rule, managed to send it flying away. A massive explosion echoed from afar where the impact was.

Goku floated above him with his hands on his hips, smiling proudly.

Goten heaved and huffed, now feeling exhausted as if he sweat from his brow. He really could have kept going, but decided against it and shook his head. “I’m done for now. You win....” He said and plopped down on the grass.

The fight was over. Goku grinned and flashed dual victory signs. “You did amazing, Goten. Really had me there!”

“One of these days, I swear, the shoe is gonna be on the other foot!” Goten declared in between heavy breaths. At least his gi didn’t get ruined.

“And I think that day will be sooner rather than later.” Goku smiled and sat down next to Goten on the grass as they waited for Panny to come back.

Only six days remain until the 28th World Martial Arts Tournament begins!

#dragon ball #dbz #goten #marron #marten #goten x marron #goku #chichi

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lumosinlove · 6 years ago

Text

Solntse

part ii

Remus sits in Lily and James’ tiny living room and tries to ignore the subtly laid out pillow and blankets set on the corner of the couch. Lily doesn’t let him.

“Your apartment has flees.”

Remus sets his glass down, “That was one bug and it was a beetle.”

Lily twists her hair over one shoulder, unrelenting, “Remus. Please.” She nods towards the pillow, “Just—I’m worried. We’re worried.”

Remus looks away so he doesn’t have to see the way James nods, they way they’re both looking at him like he’s already a lost cause. He wishes for a moment he’d never told them what he does other than serve pizza and take the early shifts at the gas station around the block, but then he’d be all alone in it. And they were his best friends, that was why he had told them. Just in case one day all of James’ fears came true and some guy murdered Remus in a hotel room. Or something.

James sighs, “Mate, we’re not ganging up on you.”

“No, I know.” Remus nods down at his mug of tea, “I know. I just…I don’t want to be that friend you can’t get rid of. Like. That would be awful.”

“Re, you’re never going to become that.” Lily puts a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing, “That’s not how we think about it at all. We just want to know your safe.”

James raises his mug to his mouth, “As safe as you can be…”

“James.” Lily snips, then her face turns soft again for Remus, “Will you stay here?”

“Lils, really, my apartment is fine.” He curls his feet further beneath him, “I’ll finish my tea and go. Don’t worry.”

He thinks back to his two night hotel escapade and shakes his head more firmly at Lily. He already feels enough like a charity case as it is. Even if he did get good money for it. Sirius had pushed an extra eighty dollars into his hand at the door and closed it before Remus could protest. He had pressed a chapped kiss to his cheek too. Remus was still mulling that over.

When he finally does make it out of the apartment he pulls his ratty coat tightly over his shoulders and ducks his head against the wind. He could probably buy a new one if Sirius called again. He did ask for two nights in a row, and it went great so, maybe. But he didn’t want to be flashy about any new money. His landlord had already raised his eyebrows when Remus had handed over two months rent in advanced.

His apartment wasn’t flea infested although it did give off that sort of look. He had a cheep futon bed frame, just to keep his mattress off the floor so it didn’t mold, and a dresser from IKEA. His kitchen consisted of a stove and a sink. The gas was usually pretty iffy and his sink ran mostly cold, like his shower, but…he had a roof and food. It’s fine. He has James and Lily if he was really, really in trouble but he doesn’t want it to come to that. He’ll never want it to come to that.

He throws his keys down on the dresser and goes to check the leak under the sink. It hasn’t gotten worse but he empties out what water is in the bucket just while he’s there. He re-tapes the crack in the window and makes a note to ask his landlord about that. Again. He’s just sitting down on his bed when his phone rings. He groans and closes his eyes when he pulls it out, hoping it isn’t one of his less polite customers. He sighs in relief when he sees the name.

“Frank, hi.” Frank almost never wants sex. He likes to talk. He’s lonely. Remus can relate. He’s the son of two wealth-soaked parents who don’t pay him a lick of attention. Remus can half relate. “How are you, mate?”

“Oh. Hi, Remus. Wasn’t sure I’d get you, um. I’m fine. I—um. Was wondering…” He trails off.

“Sure, when were you thinking? I’ve got something Tuesday and Sunday and you know when I work, so…”

“Actually, I was thinking now?” His voice is up an entire octave with nerves, “I just…Family problems right now. Was hoping to just talk a bit.”

Remus runs a hand over his face but tries not to pause too long. He doesn’t want Frank to think he doesn’t want to, “Sounds great! Should I meet you at the—“

“I couldn’t get the usual room. It’s 207 tonight. Same hotel though, the Pierre.”

Remus nods, tries to keep a smile in his voice, “Great. See you soon.”

He’s barely hung up when another name flashes up at him. He’s almost embarrassed by how fast he answers, “Sirius. Hi.” That didn’t come out anywhere close to how he wanted it to.

“Remus! Life is good?”

Remus laughs lightly, still caught off guard but warmed by Sirius’ simple honesty, “Uh, yeah, life is good. How are you?”

“Good. Busy. Always busy, you know? I’m at airport now, going to be in town on Wednesday. You want see together? Or, ah, not together.”

“Each other.” Remus supplies.

“Yes, perfect. You always know. What you think, Remus?”

Remus half wishes Sirius would stop saying his name like that and half wishes he’ll never stop saying his name like that, “Yeah, that works for me. What time were you thinking?”

“Seven? I get us dinner in room, so don’t eat. I’m, ah…” Sirius lets out a soft laugh and Remus presses the speaker closer to his ear, “I’m think about you a lot.”

Remus swallows over a suddenly dry throat, “Yeah?”

“Hm.” There’s a loud speaker in the background and Sirius says something low in Russian, “Flight calling me. Wednesday okay, yes?”

“Yes. Have a good flight.”

“You too. Or—“ They both laugh, “Okay, I’m go now. Bye, Remus.”

The line goes dead and Remus lets the phone fall to the bed. He breathes in deeply and looks down. He’s half hard in his pants now and he really doesn’t know why. He’s suppose to be on his way to Frank’s, he tips well, he honestly needs Remus a little bit and…fuck. He splashes some freezing water on his face from the sink and yanks his door shut as he leaves.

Frank’s is fine. The hotel room is nice and Remus ends up sucking him off—twice. He doesn’t get hard either time but Frank seems either completely fine with that or he doesn’t notice. What does get him going is the ping he gets on his phone while he’s walking home from the tube. It’s a picture. Of Sirius. A selfie. He’s grinning in front of a beautiful sunset outside a plane window. There’s no message except a few sideways parentheses that Remus takes as smiles. Looking at the grin triggers thinking about Sirius’ large, warm hands on his hips and back. That leads to thinking about the way Sirius had carefully pushed his fingers inside of Remus, then the hot slide of his cock to replace them, his weight covering Remus’ back—

By the time Remus is walking up the stairs to his apartment again he’s more or less waddling around his tented trousers. By the time he’s throwing his keys on his dresser all he can do is lean back against his door and shove his hand into his boxers. They’re already damp with pre-come so what’s the point anyway? He smears his thumb over his head and squeezes the base, letting out a breath. It’s not as good as Sirius and his fucking huge palms. Now that he’s got a hand wrapped around himself he can really feel the difference. He pushes his pants down around his knees so he can get two hands around himself instead, twisting around the head and keeping a tight grip around the shaft. It barely takes a dozen pulls before he’s shooting into his fist with a harsh sound, Sirius’ name almost on his lips. Almost. He makes the mistake of thinking about the way Sirius had trailed his fingertips over his sensitive cock after he’d made Remus come in his mouth, keeping the pleasurable nerves alight, and takes a cold shower so he doesn’t have to go again. The shower only makes him think about how, next time, maybe Sirius won’t come untouched. Maybe Remus will get to return the favor. He doesn’t even know how much of Sirius he could fit in his mouth but fuck if he doesn’t want to try. He groans and wraps a hand around himself again. He’s too sensitive but he doesn’t care. He works himself fast and hard until his cock is a flushed red and he comes weakly against the shower wall, panting into the cool spray.

He looks at his phone as he towels off his hair. It’s Saturday, and it’s going to be a long couple days.

There’s a different woman at the front desk this time and Remus is glad. Not that he thinks the other one would remember him but, still. He stares at the twelve on the door for a moment, trying to calm his heart rate, before he knocks.

The door doesn’t open immediately so he knocks again, feeling more awkward by the second.

This time there’s a muffled shout and a few seconds later the door is yanked open by Sirius—dripping wet and a towel hastily wrapped around his waist.

“Sorry!” He gasps, “Sorry, flight late, felt kind of like plane—plane all over me? Thought I be fast, sorry.”

“Okay.” Remus meant to say it’s okay but, well, Sirius’ towel is slipping sort of low.

“Come in, come in, I’m be ready in minute.”

Ready for what? Remus wants to ask.

He goes to sit on one of the couches and strokes his hands over a soft pillows while Sirius pads back to the shower, dropping his towel without closing the door. For a second, Remus debates on whether he can consider that as an invitation or not. He stands up twice and sits back down before the water shuts off and he sits again. Sirius emerges a second later, grabbing the towel from the floor to wrap around his waist and another for his hair. He rubs at his hair until the waves fluff around his ears and into his eyes. He smiles over at Remus somewhat guiltily.

“Sorry again. You want look at menu?” Sirius flips open a sleek looking suitcase and starts rifling through it, “Starving. Airplane food most bad, you know?”

Remus doesn’t but he’s not about to start that conversation. Instead he reaches for the leather-bound hotel book, “Where did you come from?”

“Sydney, ah…Hard for me to say.”

“Australia.”

Sirius laughs and pulls a loose fitting pair of sweatpants on—bare, “Yes, right.” A white long sleeve shirt follows and—to Remus’ surprised delight—a black snapback. It sits snugly on his damp hair, pushing the front part back out of his eyes while the rest wings out above his ears. Remus can see the shape of his ring necklace through his shirt. He swallows. Sirius looks good.

He pulls some warm looking socks on and Remus glances briefly at the hole in the heel on his own left foot. The couch bounces a little as Sirius settles next to him, leaning in close to look at the menu, “Good food? What you like?”

Remus tries to read the menu, he really does, but Sirius’ arm is thrown over the back of the couch and his fingertips are brushing over where he sweater gives way to skin. He holds the menu out to Sirius, “You decide. I’ll eat anything.”

Sirius gives him a teasingly disapproving look but takes the menu and reaches towards the side table for the phone. He orders too much. A steak, fries, a plate of brisket ravioli, a cheese board, a salad, calamari, and two slices of chocolate cake. Remus doesn’t know where they’re going to put it all, but he hopes maybe he can take some of it home.

“We do tea later,” Sirius reaches out and fans one of Remus’ curls between his fingers. “After.” He amends, “They say thirty minutes.” Then his fingers are lightly brushing Remus’ hip, just beneath his sweater, “We stay busy while wait. Is okay?”

“Yeah.” Remus breathes, because what Sirius doesn’t know is that he got off to the mere memories of what they did last time every night leading up to now. Sometimes twice. Of course it’s okay. He’s never had a job this fucking okay, and he’ll damn sure make the most of it until Sirius moves on. They always do. Remus usually feels more grateful when they do, but he has a feeling Sirius will be different.

Sirius flashes him a grin and tugs him right into his lap. His lips are warm and chapped against Remus’, but the rough texture is nice. Remus feels like it keeps him there, in Sirius’ arms. He runs his tongue across Sirius’ bottom lip just to feel it and is rewarded with a soft sound and a palm to the small of his back. Sirius, who seems to be able to take Remus aback in almost everything he does, is holding Remus close, chest to chest. Not by the hips, not by the shoulders. Remus has never had any problems with abuse and he’s lucky in that way but Sirius, Sirius isn’t holding him like he’s there for sex at all. He’s cradling Remus in his lap, hands running lazily up and down his back. He’s licking into his mouth like they have all the time in the world, like they’ve been kissing forever and they’ll do it tomorrow, and tomorrow.

Remus’ palms cup his jaw and he runs his fingers along the edge of the snapback.

“You want off?” Sirius’ voice sounds like he’s just woken up.

Remus shakes his head and his eyes slip closed as Sirius’ mouth moves to his jaw, “No.”

Sirius’ warm breath against his neck as he laughs softly almost feels better than the wet kisses he’s leaving there. Almost.

They stay like that until the knock on the door makes Remus blink his eyes open blearily, suddenly aware of how warm he is.

Sirius shifts him to the side gently, kneeling on the couch for one last peck, “I’m get food, relax here.”

Remus blinks at him, licks his kiss-swollen lips, and honestly just wants to ask Sirius why he is like this. He rests his head back on the couch and listens to Sirius’ bright voice chatting away to the bell boy who brought their food. He’s thanking him, telling him how good it all looks, and Remus thinks maybe he’s just this nice to everyone he meets. He isn’t sure what to do with that.

“Hey,” Sirius head pokes back through the door, cart trailing him, “Food.”

Remus isn’t going to say no to that.

The spread of food looks even bigger when laid out and Remus can’t help but laugh as Sirus sits down next to him again, “Sirius, this is…a lot.”

Sirius shrugs one shoulder, “We don’t finish, you take home.”

Remus isn’t going to say no to that, either. He has a brief moment of wondering whether ordering this much was purposeful on Sirius’ part, but pushes it aside. That’s ridiculous. Sirius doesn’t even know him, much less anything about his financial situation. Well. He might know a little given who they are to each other.

Remus spends most of the meal listening to Sirius try to explain some funny story that happened on his trip, and anticipating the occasional moments of being fed bits of steak and such by Sirius, who barely breaks in talking despite how it takes Remus’ breath for a moment.

“I spend lot of time in hotel, you know?” Sirius’ voice breaks into Remus’ thoughts, mid story. He wished he’d been listening fully to know how to respond.

“I, ah, lonely?”

Sirius shrugs, but shoves a large scoop of pasta in his mouth. Remus takes that as a yes.

“How did you…” Remus searches for the right word before trying, “find me?”

Sirius actually pinks a little at that, “Ah. Friend. You know him. Recommend. Say you very sweet.”

Remus nods and respects the anonymity even if he’s dying to know who, “Sweet, huh?”

Sirius smiles a little, “I’m think so, too.”

They move onto the cake and the hotel had sent up an two extra desserts, seemingly just because Sirius is Sirius.

“I’m stay here lot, they know me.”

“Probably because you order the entire menu anyway.” Remus jokes.

It makes Sirius’ entire face light up, spreading his hands, “Hey, why not? Hungry after long day of flying.” He knocks his ankle against Remus’, “Good food, best company.”

Remus rolls his eyes a little and Sirius snorts. That shouldn’t be attractive, but it is.

“You live here always?” Sirius asks through a bite of cheesecake, “London?”

“Yeah, always.”

“Born here?”

Remus nods, “Yeah. I live a few streets over from my parent’s flat.”

“Must be so nice.” Sirius is smiling, but his eyes are down at his plate and he looks a little mournful. His fingertips not holding his fork are twisting the ring around his neck, “Be near family always.”

Remus takes a bite instead of answering. It had been nice. For a while.

“Not…Not nice?” Sirius says softly, “Sorry, not want to bring up bad things, Remus—“

“No. No, it’s okay. It’s fine, I just…yeah, I don’t really talk to my parents much these days.”

Sirius places a warm hand on his thigh, thumb rubbing on the inside slowly. But it isn’t sexual. It isn’t even verging on sexual. It’s soothing and warm, and it makes Remus want to keep talking.

“Not since I came out.” He finally manages, “To them. They weren’t…” But it turns out that’s all he can say on the matter.

“Make you feel better…” Sirius wets his lips, “Parents not know. Mine, I’m saying. Scared to tell, not good thing in Russia.” He gives Remus’ thigh a little squeeze, “I understand. Remus, it’s—it’s most brave.”

Remus blinks hard, “Yeah.” He doesn’t know why he’s sitting here having this semi-melt down with Sirius. Sirius definitely isn’t paying for this. He’s probably annoyed with him under all his kind words and so Remus snuffles and digs his palms into his eyes, trying to wipe the tears away and the redness that’s probably there both. There’s nothing really to do to make this not an awkward transition. How do you go from tears to sex? And with a stranger? “I’m sorry.” He begins, “Fuck, this—was not what I had planned.”

“Remus, it’s not apology—no, okay?” He’s suddenly pushing the food table away and tucking his legs beneath himself, sitting on his socked-heels and taking both of Remus’ hands, thumbs rubbing gently against the vulnerable insides of Remus’ wrists, “I’m not mind, really. Really.”

“I’ll take this out of your pay. Honestly, Sirius, this isn’t what you brought me here for, I just want you to know that I know that.” Remus can’t help it though, and despite his words curls his fingers around Sirius’, “Sorry."

“Please stop saying, Remus.” Sirius tone is firm, “Please, you—not an apology.” Even the word ‘apology’ sounds nice in Sirius’ mouth.

“I…make okay? A bit?” Sirius tugs very lightly on Remus’ hands but when Remus shakes his head he—he lets go. Which Remus can’t decide how he feels about that.

“Sorry.” He says again, then at Sirius’ face, he pushes a hand through his hair, “Fuck, sorry—Sor—“

And then Sirius is kissing him. His thumbs are stroking slowly along his cheeks and he’s sucking Remus’ bottom lip slowly into his mouth, brushing his tongue along it with the same amount of leisure. Remus sighs into it, fingers digging into his own thighs for a moment before he’s leaning forward and pressing his palms flat on Sirius’.

“Only if want.” Sirius says against his mouth, “Remus.” He pulls away just enough to look at Remus’ glassy eyes, “You not want a second ago, I’m just want no more sorry. No, ah, not need to do anything, okay?” He curls his fingers back around Remus’ ears, around the curls there, “карамель, can just put movie on. Have more cake.”

Remus sniffles a little, blinking hard at Sirius, “Did—Did you just call me caramel?” He remembers the soft word from last time.

Sirius smiles, a bit, and lifts one shoulder, “It’s good, no? It’s…not sure how to say…small names important in Russia. Mean two people are close.”

Is that really what we are? Remus wants to ask. He sort of wants to yell it because, as great as this is, he sees nothing but a darker end. For himself, anyway.

“Oh.” Is all he says out loud and falls sideways a little on the couch into the cushions. He’s suddenly so tired. Sirius doesn’t seem to mind, though, and mirrors his position, their knees knocking together. His soft smile is still aimed right at Remus. “What’s yours then?”

Sirius’ smile grows, “Mama give to me when little.” He raises his eyebrows, “Little bit funny, not laugh.”

Remus feels a smile of his own start up and he uses his sleeve to wipe his nose, sitting up a little more, “I won’t laugh.”

“Sivushka.” It rolls nicely off of Sirius’ tongue, and his cheeks pink a little but he looks pleased, “Sort of…for family? Friends. Not so much lover, too…small?”

“Casual?” Remus offers, “Like, it means a different feeling.”

Sirius’ smile is soft, “So good with english. So helpful.”

“Sivushka.” Remus tries it out, but it doesn’t sound half as good. Then, he can’t help it, heart in his throat when he asks, “What’s…what’s more than friends? Like, not—just, I’m curious what that would be.”

“Lover? Sirusya, maybe.” Then he smiles, eyes crinkling warmly, “You like? You call me?”

“Surely someone already calls you that.” Remus tries to keep his voice light. I mean, look at you. He wants to add.

Sirius sits up at that a little, eyes going hard, hand—that had been rubbing idly against Remus’ knee—going still, “No. No one call me.”

Remus swallows, “I—I didn’t mean—“

“I’m not—изменя́ть.” He huffs in frustration, “изменя́ть—I’m not know, not know, okay?”

Remus’s chest goes cold, “Okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

“Not be here if with—someone else.” Sirius shakes his head, “Not like that, Remus. I’m not.” The phrase is followed by a disgruntled spell of Russian that Remus does his best to follow through tone alone.

“I know.” Remus finally says, “I know you aren’t.” Because he’s only met Sirius twice but he can honestly say he does know this about him, “I’m sorry.”

“Not apology, карамель.” Sirius rubs his hands over his face, “Too much action, sorry.”

Remus looks on in confusion, “What?”

“Me, me,” Sirius gestures aggressively towards himself, “Me. Too much action. Not right.”

Overreaction, Remus thinks and nods, “No, I understand.”

“I’m know…what guys you probably see doing…this.” Sirius doesn’t look at him as he acknowledges exactly why Remus is there for what feels like the first time other than money exchanges, “Not wrong for you to think. But no.”

“Sirius, it’s okay.” But that feels wrong somehow and so he says instead, “I mean, we’ve done this three times.”

Sirius is quiet for a long moment this time. “It’s true.” Then, after running his fingers over his necklace a few times, “You have other small name?”

The topic change pings a little, “Um. Not anything big. Re, mostly, if anything.”

“Re.” It sounds like a lovely mess of vowel in Sirius’ mouth, “That’s all?”

Remus nods, “Nothing like Russia, huh?”

Sirius runs a hand over his face one more time but when he moves it there’s a trace of his usual smile, “I’m find you one, not worry.” Then, eyes down and voice quiet but questioning, “You have…small name…for lover?”

Remus swallows. His throat is so dry all of a sudden so he just shakes his head, then realizes Sirius isn’t looking at him so he croaks out, “No.”

Sirius nods back, “Oh.” Then he grabs the remote and pushes it into Remus’ hand, “Find something. I’m call for tea and get money before forget. Be back.”

It seems like the end of the conversation, but the conversation doesn’t feel over. Remus choses a movie, but he couldn’t say what it was about. When its over Sirius has to tuck the money into Remus’ back pocket himself. He presses another kiss to Remus’ cheek. Then Remus doesn’t hear from him for two weeks.

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michael-hearteyes-wheeler · 6 years ago

Photo

As Strange As it Seems

[1] [2]

Chapter 3: Saddle up, Partner!

Read on (AO3) or (FF.net)

[A/N] So, fun fact, I made three moodboards for this fic, and I wanted to find a way to use each of them. Im calling this phase of the fic ‘Act II’, and this moodboard fits the tone better than the original one. I hope its not too confusing lol! And I hope you enjoy chapter three.

The week that followed, went on much the same as opening day. Hot, humid, big crowds, 'Saddle up, Partner', a lunch break that was really just a mad dash to shove something into your face, and then it was off to the rides with Max.

Mostly it was fine. And getting that first paycheck, that was pretty great too, but by far the best part of everyday was right before closing. When the sky turned pink and orange, and the sounds of laughing crowds faded, leaving only the constant calliope jingles to be heard. By Wednesday Max didn't even have to ask for Lucas to join. He would just hop over the counter and they would cross different things off of her checklist. By Friday they had ridden the Scrambler 8 times, and all of the kiddy rides at least a dozen times each.

Still, he was unsure of what to call their relationship. Were they friends? Was she only spending time with him because no one else would agree? Was he overthinking everything? (Probably, yes to the last one, for sure).

The answer, to at least some of his questions, came in an odd form on the last day of the first week.

Saturday had been essentially a repeat of each day before, the only difference was that there was a live performance of some magician happening in the evening. 'Great Value brand Mind-Freak' as Dustin had referred to him. Which was, all things considered, pretty accurate. But it also meant that most of the rides, as well as the midway would be closing early, and that during the 'pre-show' show, Lucas's lunch break was extended to a full hour. A gift from god himself.

Lucas decided that a milkshake sounded pretty good. But, then again, so did the idea of a bucket of ice getting dumped on his head. He made his was towards the cart he had come to frequent over the last several days.

"Aw hey, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Dustin grinned toothily from behind the food stands sliding glass window. He had his curly mop of hair pulled back in a messy ponytail to help keep off some of the heat. He wore a little paper hat with the fairs logo, and a striped polo that reminded Lucas of something an old timey barber might wear.

"It's my break, I just came to beat the heat." Lucas looked past his friend into the little booth, wear a row of slushie machines sat churning their sweet treats.

"Well come on in then!" Dustin disappeared from his place behind the window, and popped out of a small door a moment later, gesturing for Lucas to follow.

The space inside the cart was small, and what little floor space there was was covering in shipment boxes of food. A giant fan sat on the back wall above a small window, and a cooling breeze pushed its way through the space. There was a bubbling deep fryer for elephant ears, and another one for curly fries. There was a big class cooler with buckets of ice cream inside, and a long counter covered in sprinkles that didn't quite hit their target.

Lucas found a place to sit on top of a couple of sturdier boxes, and Dustin busted around the cart, like a well tuned machine, making them both milkshakes all without breaking conversation.

"I swear, some of these people have to be millionaires. $5 for a large fry!? You have to be kidding me! That's really the only perk though, that I get to eat for free." Dustin handed Lucas his shake before leaning against the counter opposite him.

"At least your job has a perk. I just have to stand there all day and press a button a thousand times." Lucas leaned back against the cool metal walls of the cart. He only then realized how sore his feet were.

"Don't sweat it, you get to close up early and run around while i'm still in here slaving away." Dustin paused to take a sip from his shake. "And besides, I can't think of a pretty good perk that you have."

Lucas furrowed his brows. "And what might that be?"

"You work directly across from Max! I'll bet you anything that the two of you fall in love before the end of the summer." Dustin winked and Lucas groaned.

"First of all, that's ridiculous. Second of all, we both just like rides. It's not like we get to just hang out all day, unless I yelled across the walkway, and that would just be weird."

"Look, ill i'm saying is that on your break you could have gone and chatted up a cool girl, but instead you came and talked to me." Lucas could feel a headache coming on from the amount of eye rolling he was doing. Why had he come here in the first place?

"Alright, Henderson, time for our switch." A voice called gruffy from the back of the cart. The boys turned to look at the woman who was clambering through the cramped space. She was older, with grey blonde hair pulled up into a hair net, and the face of a bulldog. An unlit cigarette dangled from her lips.

"Thanks Susan!" Dustin said as he hurriedly grabbed his things, and motioned for Lucas to follow. Lucas watched Susan give him an uneasy look up and down before turning to the window.

As soon as they were outside, Dustin untucked his polo shirt, and tossed his already finished shake into the trash.

"Thats Susan. She's one tough nut to crack. I used some of my best food puns on her, and nothing! Not even a chuckle!"

"Well yeah, if they were your food puns then im sure not." Lucas joked, elbowing his friend in the ribs as they walked.

"Haha very funny. You wanna go see Will? I think the backstage has AC."

"Hell yeah!"

They backstage did have AC. It hit them both like a wall, stepping into utter paradise. It looked a lot different than it did the first time they had walked through. The cavernous room was filled with people rushing back and forth across its cement floor. People yelling things at one another, people hoisting things up on ropes, and Will himself painting lazily in the corner, looking bored out of his mind, across from a wildly gesticulating Mike.

"Will Byers!" Lucas hollered, cupping his hands around his mouth to make his voice boom through the space. Nearly everyone turned and scowled at him before continuing about their business.

"Oh! Hey guys, what's going on?" Will set down his paintbrush, and wiped his hands on his apron. Mike stopped whatever he had been going on about and turned to wave at them.

"We were hot," Dustin plopped down on the cool ground at Will's feet. "And Susan scares me, so we came here to bother you."

"Well, there isn't anything interesting going on here." Will shrugged. He looked... off. Sad Maybe? Disappointed? Lucas couldn't quite place it. He made a mental note to ask him later. "But you could probably hide out here all day. I'm still not even sure who is in charge back here."

"William, I might just take you up on that." Dustin leaned against a large wooden crate, arms tucked behind his head and legs outstretched.

They all sat and talked for the rest of Lucas's break. It was nice, catching up, and it affirmed what he already knew to be true. That it really was more fun that they had agreed to join him. If it weren't for his friends being there to hang out with, he would probably have just been standing around the Midway like an idiot. That, or be off spending his entire paycheck at the arcade.

"And then, he got off the ride and basically fell over the edge! He was passed out for like five minutes! I thought we were going to have to call the paramedics." Mike was telling them a story about one of their old Middle School bullies, who handled the Tilt-A-Whirl with the grace of a dying whale. They were all howling with laughter. "The best part is that his date didn't even wait for him! She just went home!"

"Serves him right!" Dustin chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. "God I wish I could have seen that."

"It was pretty great. Definitely blows the Hotdog Incident out of the water." He finger quoted the words and Will smirked up at him.

Just then, Lucas's watch beeped. He sighed, and stood up, dusting his jeans off. "Alright guys, I gotta get back out there. Are you all going to watch the show?"

"Yeah, may as well." Mike shrugged and Dustin nodded. Will looked like he wanted to say something, but he didnt.

"Cool, i'll find you guys later then."

Lucas made his way back through the fairgrounds, passing happy families and rambunctious teenagers, towards the shooting gallery. He made the trek take as long as possible, shuffling his feet slowly across the dirt pathways. By the time he got back to the midway, the crowds had mostly cleared out. People were already flocking to the stage, wanting to find the best places to stand to watch whatever bogus tricks would be performed. Lucas imagined a lot of smoke and mirrors and sequins. As he neared the game booths, he couldn't help but look up as he passed by Max's stand. His heart dropped momentarily when he saw that she wasn't behind the sunbleached counter, and instead some other bored looking teenager stood in her place.

It wasn't until he turned the corner to his own booth that he saw where exactly she had run off too.

Max was sitting on the shooting gallery counter, swinging her tanned legs casually and drinking from a bottle of orange soda that almost matched her hair in color. When she saw Lucas in the corner of her eye, she turned and smirked.

"Your break ended ten minutes ago." She scolded playfully, hopping from the counter.

"Uh yeah I know I... Had to wait in a long line for the bathrooms." Lucas winced at his own lame excuse. Smooth, Sinclair, really smooth. He didn't think that taking his sweet time on the walk back would affect anyone he actually cared about. Not that he cared about Max, no not at all (aside from the fact that he cared a lot).

"Shame on you, Lucas, look at all of these customers just begging to shoot something!" Max gestured out at the completely empty space around the booth mockingly. "You have deprived them of a good time, and now their entire trip is ruined all because of your small bladder."

Lucas felt himself smile as her condescending facade faded into a giggle. "Sorry Miss Mayfield, i'll make sure to keep my bladder in check next time."

Max laughed hard at that, and it was a sound that made Lucas's face feel hot. "See that you do. You wanna make it up to me?"

"Sure, how?"

"Let me kick your ass in a shooting contest." She patted the top of one of the plastic guns.

"You can try, but I hate to break it to you, i'm the best sharp shooter in Roane County." Lucas crossed his arms in defiance. He really was good, if not on his credentials shooting tin cans with his wrist rocket as a kid, then the week of practice he had amassed working here would surely secure his victory.

"We'll see about that, wont we?" Max flipped her hair over her shoulder as she took her place behind the player 2 shotgun. Lucas smiled and followed suit. After they were both in position, Lucas leaned over the counter and pressed the little red start button hidden underneath.

"Saddle up, Partner." Max and Lucas both spoke along with the games droning prerecording, having heard it a million times before. It made them both laugh before they fixed their rifles in their hands. Then, a western themed song played, and it was off to the races.

Little cardboard cutouts of sharp shooters and bandits would flip up with a number telling you how many points each hit was worth. Some moved slowly and were easy to hit, others flipped up for only a few seconds before flipping back down again. However, it's not exactly that simple, because hitting the cowboy, his horse, or a barmaid will deduct points.

Max and Lucas were firing at full speed. Each turning and aiming, the barrel of their guns crossing on a couple of occasion as Lucas went for a 10 point bandit, and Max went for a 15 point burglar.

"Stay on your side, Stalker!" Max hissed, determination and excitement in her voice.

"I will if you-" Bang "Do!" Lucas taunted back.

Lucas felt pretty confident, there weren't many targets he was missing, and he only hit the Cowboy once. It was probably his best game so far. Max was doing pretty well too. Aiming low and high, getting heavily invested and cheering after she caught the big 50 pointer that flashes up only for a split second. They were both laughing and bumping into one another before;

"That's some sharp shooting, buckaroo!" The game signaled that the round was over. Each cutout lowered back into place, and they returned their guns to the stands on the counter. They were both panting slightly, grinning from ear to ear. At least until Lucas looked up at the scoreboard.

Player 1: 445 - Player 2: 560

"Holy shit!" Max cheered, "I totally owned you!" She threw her arms up and spun in a small circle. Lucas's mouth just hung open. "Oh man, like I mean, I knew I was going too, but you weren't even close!" She punched his arm.

"Jeez, someone is really a sore winner." Lucas chastised and Max threw her head back in a loud cackling laugh. The same laugh that she always had when they were whirling together on rides.

"I can't help it!" She giggled, "You are just so fun to beat. Your face gets all confused and then you scrunch your eyebrows together."

Lucas felt his eyebrows, involuntarily, press together.

"Yeah, like that!" She laughed again and flicked his forehead. If it had been anyone else, he probably would have smacked their hand away.

"Yeah yeah yeah, congratulations or whatever, are we even now?" Lucas crossed his arms, watching her dance in place celebratorily.

"Totally even, I mean, i'm still going to gloat about this for the rest of today, and maybe forever, but we are even." She lifted her chin, looking proud.

"Until I find something I can beat you at."

"Is that a threat, Stalker? Video games are kind of the only thing i'm good at, and i'm really good."

Something really honest past through her eyes at this last rib. He realized that he had never heard Max say anything even remotely self-deprecating before. Not even to be funny. It was strange. It felt off.

"Hey, that's not even fair, you are good at lots of things, maybe just... extra good at video games."

Max looked at him puzzled for a moment. She was still smiling, but her eyes peered deeply into his own, shifting back and forth, almost like she was reading him.

"Okay. Maybe just extra good." She grimaced, her mouth turning downward crookedly.

He felt as though he had stepped into some sort of weird, uncomfortable, territory.

"I will find something to beat you at though. One day." He smiled as earnestly as possible, and let himself slouch against the counter, wanting to change the energy of the situation.

"Well," She slouched beside him, her face shifting back to a more normal, playful one, "If that day ever comes, then i'll owe you big time."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

Her face shifted yet again. She was closer to him now, looking up at him. He could see the small flecks of green that framed her brilliant, blue eyes. How had he never noticed that before? She was looking... Mischievous. Like she had a secret she was just dying to tell.

"I will tell you when and if that day comes, Stalker, but for now, you have made me miss some of my lunch break." She punched his arm, again, and pushed herself off of the counter.

"Hey, you were the one who wanted to play!" He hollered as she began walking back towards the main part of the fair.

She didn't respond, or if she did, he didnt hear it, but his heart buzzed in his ears. That small exchange had told him... well, nothing really. If anything it just gave him more questions. Max was always making him second guess and over think things. Which was, admittedly, really out of character for him. He was always the 'level-headed' friend. The one who said 'No, Dustin, you shouldn't try to eat a burger in one bite.' and 'No, Mike, you shouldn't spend all weekend trapped in the basement, come have fun.' It kind of alarmed him, actually, the fact that she could waltz over to him, flash a smile, and his brain would turn into mush. He sighed, and hopped over the counter back into his station.

The midway closed soon after that. There were just no crowds to try to sell too, and the entire carnival was basically empty save for the Main Stage. Lucas walked off after being relieved for the night, and he met up with Dustin as soon as the food cart closed. Together they found Mike, and then Mike found El and Max. Soon the entire group was on a mission, searching high (and mostly low) for Will. If he was somewhere deeper in the crowd, the thought of finding him would have to be dashed, but he made himself be found in a way that left the entire group reeling.

Will Byers. On stage, dressed in some ridiculous, blue velvet suit, being locked inside of a gaudy box by the magician.

The group was at a loss, silent and in awe, just like the rest of the crowd, but for very different reasons. Will had always been shy. More a behind the scenes sort of personality. It was immediately agreed upon that he had either been bribed, blackmailed, or hypnotized.

Will stepped out from behind a curtain. The Magician introduced him to the crowd as 'The Invisible boy!' He was asked to step inside of a huge rectangular box in the middle of the stage. Everything about Will, the Magician, and the box shimmered in the dusk lighting. Lucas had been right about the sequins, there was no denying that. Will did as he was asked, looking less 'mystified', and more just terrified.

The Magician tapped on the box several times, spinning it around, then spinning it again to show it was a solid structure. Then, he said some sort of magical word gibberish, and swung the door open. Only Will, and his very horrible suit, were gone. In his place was a beautiful and busty woman wearing a swimsuit version of that blue velvet ensemble.

The crowd went nuts, and so did the Party, but again, for very different reasons. Max and Dustin both cupped their hands around their mouths to let out loud and ear piercing applause, before Max grabbed Lucas by the hand, and pulled him towards the backstage area. He could feel the others behind him, but mostly he could just feel Max holding his hand tightly.

They found Will in the dressing room, hanging his suit delicately onto a hanger. He looked green with nausea, and pink with embarrassment all at the same time.

"William Byers!" Dustin gasped.

"Please, please for the love of god, tell me you weren't watching the show." Will groaned somberly.

"Oh, we watched buddy, and you killed it! Who knew royal blue was your color!"

"I didn't kill anything. I just looked like an idiot and walked into a box." Will rolled his eyes.

"You didn't look like an idiot," Mike placed a hand on Will's shoulder. "It was... surprising, but cool. Why did you go out there?"

"I guess the normal assistant for that part never showed up, and i'm the only person small enough to fit through the trap door." He shrugged.

"Trap doors!? Thats awesome! You have to give me a secret tour." Max winked at him and mussed his hair like a mom. That made him smile as he smoothed his hair back into place. Max speaking made Lucas realize that she was still holding his hand tightly. She must have noticed too, because she dropped it, and stuck her hand in her pocket.

"Yeah, sure, maybe. Can we just go? It's going to be crazy getting out of here." Will sometimes did this thing where he would anxiously bounce in place. It was nowhere near the level of twitching and bouncing that Mike often demonstrated, but it was his own version of it. And that's how he looked now, his flush face, and hair bouncing as his eyes flickered to the exit.

It made Lucas remember that sad expression he had worn when they saw him backstage. Was this the reason? Being forced out of his comfort zone? Either way, they all nodded and followed him outside.

"Sure, whatever you say, Invisible boy."

Will just groaned.

The group made their way out into the parking lot. It was basically silent. The only sounds were the 'oo's' and 'aa's' coming from the crowd still inside the gates. It had become a routine for the girls to walk with them to the van, before deciding it was really time to go home, and walking to Max's own car. It was nice, and the conversations they all shared before splitting lasted longer and longer each day.

El was talking about someone who came through the ticket line and had made a big fuss about the price. They all commiserate with her and laughed at her jokes. She was surprisingly really funny, in an understated sort of way. Unlike Dustin, who told a story about some kid who wanted sour apple sherbet and vanilla ice cream, and they all laughed about that too. It felt so... natural. Like they all got along, and the conversation never fell into awkward silence or a dead lull. Not with personalities like Dustin and Max, who bickered over basically everything as if they were old chums. Somewhere the path of the conversation had become skewed to comic's, and it was all downhill from there.

"Dustin, shut up, seriously, if I hear you say one more thing about the MCU im going to kick you." Max rolled her eyes and laughed.

"I'm just saying! It's an objectively better franchise with objectively better narratives!"

"Yeah, I think we all caught that. I even like Marvel movies, and you are making me want to pull my hair out." She flipped her hair back over her shoulder, as if to prove a point, and turned away from him to Lucas. They were sitting on the floor of the van through the open sliding door. "Anyway, Stalker, I have to go before I kill your friend."

"Hey, it's your life, you can kill whoever you want."

"You promise you would still be my friend after?" She put a hand in front of her mouth, as if to keep it a secret, although she still talked loud enough for anyone to hear. Mike chuckled and Dustin sighed.

"Max, if you did something to shut Dustin up? I might be your best friend."

"Alright, it's settled then," She clapped her hands together. "Dustin your days are numbered, El you have been replaced."

"Oh get bent, Maxine." El teased back. El was currently leaning into Mike, who had one arm wrapped around her shoulders, and one arm wrapped around Will's shoulders.

Max popped up from her seat next to Lucas with a smirk, pinching El on the arm. "Let's get out of here, lover girl, I can feel them destroying my last good brain cells." And then she sauntered off, her hair swishing back and forth.

"You know," El began as she stepped out from under Mike's arm, "She only insults people that she likes." And then El was off too, waving goodbye and following her friend to their car.

"Jeez, Dustin, then you must be her favorite." Will said with a grin.

"Hey now, I like Max as much as the next guy, but I think we all know who her favorite is." Dustin gave Lucas a shove as he moved past him into the van.

He didn't respond, not being able to think of a good enough comeback, and he let himself smile. Everyone took their normal seats, and they set off just as the sun dipped below the horizon.

The drive back to Hawkins each day felt as though it was getting faster and faster. Maybe it was because of Will's expertly made playlists, or maybe it was just that they had now made the drive seven times. Either way, it was a nice and fulfilling experience to watch the sky get darker, as the long stretches of farmland faded into quiet suburban neighborhoods.

Before he knew it, Dustin was pulling onto Maple Street, and he and Mike were jumping out of the car.

It was now their first official weekend off of work. The fair was closed on Sundays and Mondays, and the group was looking forward to not doing much of anything. They had talked passively somewhere around Thursday at having a movie night, but if those plans fell through, Lucas probably wouldn't complain. He was looking forward to just sleeping in, and maybe using his paycheck to buy some better shoes for standing in.

When he walked inside, His dad was sitting in the easy chair in the living room watching some History channel documentary. His mom was in the kitchen washing up from supper. He heard the TV go silent and took a seat at the breakfast table in front of a plate of leftovers.

"Hey, son, how was work?" His dad bellowed.

"It was good!" He replied through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"Oh! I saved you a plate from din-" His mom turned around from the sink, "Oh well look at you, are you eating enough at work? Do I need to start sending you with a lunch?" His mom was always the type to fus about whether or not he was eating enough. She was a great cook, so the answer was almost always yes.

"Im fine, Ma, dont worry about it."

"Okay, well you just let me know." She turned back to the sink. "Work is going well? You and your friends are having a good time?"

"And what about you girlfriend?" Lucas eyes shot up to where his little sister, Erica, was spying on him from the stairs.

"Shut up, Erica! You- You don't even... That's not!" He stuttered, dropping his fork back onto his plate. "Why do you-"

"You should know by now that I hear everything." Erica walked into the kitchen and stole one of his diner rolls.

"Erica! Leave your brother alone, and I think you have had enough bread today." His mom scolded, ringing her hands on a rag.

"It's not my fault he talks so loud!" She shrugged, and turned to stomp back upstairs. He liked his little sister a lot, but she was probably the nosiest person he had ever met.

"I- I don't have a girlfriend." Lucas crossed his arms, suddenly feeling not hungry at all.

"Mmmhmm." His mom hummed.

"Mom! I don't!"

"That's fine, I didn't say anything. Now you wash up before bed, you smell like a churro." She pinched his check and walked into the living room.

Lucas sighed, but he smiled to himself. He finished his food and washed his plate, and all the while he thought about Max. He realized that she had said they were friends, and that made him want to dance in place the same way she had after beating him at the Shooting Gallery. It was an affirmation to at least one of the dozens of questions he had about her.

That at the very least, they were friends. And that was good enough for him, figuring that was as far as he was ever going to get.

At least for now.

Tagging: @stranger-things85 @bestcoastisthewestcoast@she-who-the-river-could-not-hold @dustinhendrsn @samchamberlain @paladin-wheeler@peachysteve @summer-in-hawkins @elliehops @midnightmillie @el-hopper @puzzlingsnark@zerodoubleone@lumaxfanfictionarchive @bob-newby-superhero @sweet-sugar-sunsets @caseyk112

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whimzea-blog · 7 years ago

Note

zeath: heath locks himself out of his apartment while scottys out doing something, it turns out his hot ass neighbour (zane) is just coming back from coffee. zane lets him in his apartment & they hang out for awhile. (they fuck at some point probably idk im bad at prompts)

i made kam the roommate because kam needs more screen time lol

“Come on, Kam, pick up,” Heath muttered into his phone. He pressed it to his ear with his shoulder and checked his pockets for the thousandth time, hoping that his apartment key would miraculously appear. It didn’t.

It was his own damn fault for trying to be healthy and walking to the gym instead of driving. Because if he’d driven, he would have all of his keys now, instead of knowing they were sitting right there on the kitchen counter inside, mocking him.

Kam didn’t pick up. He knocked his head against his door. The landlord took Mondays off, and while she would have to come to let him in, he wasn’t prepared to deal with her wrath at being inconvenienced. He valued his life too much.

“You alright?” an amused voice asked from behind him, and he jumped about a foot, too deep in the throes of self-pity to hear the footsteps.

He knew the voice- it was his neighbor, Zane. He cursed God before turning around. Really? Now? You had to send the hot neighbor right by me at this very moment, when I’m sweaty and gross and locked out of my apartment like a fucking idiot?

“I locked myself out,” Heath finally replied, smiling weakly. “And my roommate isn’t answering his phone.”

“Sounds like a typical Monday,” Zane said, wincing. “Have you tried calling Frida?” Frida, the landlord from Hell.

“I’d rather die from starvation right here on this welcome mat,” Heath answered seriously, and Zane laughed.

“I hear you. She can be…difficult.” Zane jingled his keys in the hand and gestured towards his apartment door. “Well, you’re welcome to hang out in my apartment until you get in touch with your roommate. I can’t let any neighbor of mine die of starvation.”

Zane grinned, and Heath felt his stomach flutter like a schoolgirl. Fuck, he was cute. The adorably messy dark hair and pretty brown eyes got him the most, but he didn’t hate the muscles shifting under his t-shirt, or the hint of chest hair peeking out the top, or the beard he wanted rubbing against his-

Get it together, Heath scolded himself.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that to you…at least one of us should have a decent Monday,” Heath said, rubbing the back of his head.

“Well, mine was already decent, but it just got a lot better,” Zane replied, shooting Heath a flirtatious smile before unlocking the door to his apartment and gesturing inside. At least, Heath hoped it was flirtatious. But he doubted it. This guy was probably just really nice. And straight. Like all the other guys in his suitcase of crushes.

Still, if he was offering, Heath wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. He was entirely too thirsty to do a thing like that.

“Alright,” Heath agreed, following Zane inside.

The apartment was sparsely decorated, with only a few pieces of furniture dotting the living room. The colors were dark and the lines were sharp. It was minimalist and masculine, and Heath loved it right away.

“Do you want something to eat? To drink?” Zane asked. He pointed to a stool at the island in the kitchen and Heath sat. Zane opened the refrigerator and looked inside. “Wow…I guess I need to go grocery shopping.”

Zane pulled out a half-empty bottle of orange juice and a bottle of Bud Light, holding them up in front of Heath sheepishly. “Umm…we can make really ratchet mimosas?”

“Just the orange juice is fine,” Heath said, chuckling.

“Good choice,” Zane agreed. He poured Heath a glass before sticking his head back in the fridge. “And to eat…”

Heath held up his hand. “Let me guess- week-old Chinese leftovers and a jar of mayonnaise?”

Zane pulled a bag of brown, rotten lettuce out of a drawer. They both grimaced.

“Maybe I’ll order a pizza,” Zane decided, tossing the lettuce into the garbage. “What toppings do you like?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I can wait until later,” Heath said, although he was post-workout and absolutely ravenous. On cue, his stomach grumbled. Zane raised an eyebrow and Heath sighed. “Pepperoni.”

Zane nodded and pulled out his cell phone, and thirty minutes later they were scarfing it down like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. In between bites, they talked. Heath discovered that not only was Zane incredibly gorgeous and adorable, but he also managed to make a living shooting YouTube videos. Heath watched a few on his phone, and he couldn’t believe the number of views they had. But of course, Zane was in them. So he sort of got it.

“What do you do?” Zane asked, leaning against the counter and resting his chin on his hands.

Heath hesitated. He hated this question- especially when guys asked him.

It had all started out on the up-and-up. He had gotten a job as a delivery guy for a very high-end florist in Beverly Hills, bringing celebrities their wedding bouquets and all other manner of floral excess. He had been doing that- in a very manly way, he might add- for about six months, when one day the shop was so slammed and enough people were out sick or had just quit that he was pulled in to learn the register, leaving the other delivery guy to fend for himself.

The owner was so impressed with his customer service- and how much the little old ladies loved him- that she offered him a job in the shop. He learned quickly, watching the old-timers, reading as much as he could…and now, over the course of two years, he had become an actual…florist. A very manly one.

“I, umm…work with flowers,” Heath answered, clearing his throat. That always sounded better than “I’m a florist.” He could be a landscaper, or a botanist, or something.

“So you’re a florist?”

Fuck.

“Well…yeah,” Heath admitted, like he was confessing to a murder. None of his friends understood why he was so self-conscious about his profession, but of course, they weren’t fighting the daily battle of clapping back against gay stereotypes and old-school gender norms. It was exhausting. And he had been burned by enough straight guys about what he did that he was incredibly gun shy.

“That’s awesome,” Zane replied. It was? “I’d love to have more flowers and plants in here, but I’ve killed every green thing that’s come through the door.”

“I’m not surprised, considering the state of the lettuce you just threw out,” Heath said drily, and Zane threw his head back and laughed.

“Touche.”

Two hours later Kam finally responded to his text, and three hours later Kam was home and able to let Heath back in the apartment.

Heath didn’t want to leave Zane’s kitchen. Zane was smart, and cute, and sweet, and funny, and Heath could feel his little gay heart growing three times bigger.

But he also knew he had to leave. The last thing he needed was another futile crush on a straight boy. Who was also his neighbor.

“What do I owe you for the pizza?” Heath asked. “Let me run home and grab my wallet.”

Zane waved him off. “Please. It was my pleasure.”

“Well, thanks. I owe you big time for today,” Heath said, hopping off his stool. He smiled at Zane and hoped there weren’t hearts in his eyes. “If you ever get locked out, feel free to knock on our door. We’ll order pizza.”

“Actually, we should probably exchange numbers in case this happens again,” Zane said casually, pulling out his phone. “Or any other type of apartment emergency. I work from home, as you know, so I’m always around if you need anything.”

“Oh…yeah, that’d be great,” Heath stuttered. Jesus, his heart was pounding in his chest like Zane had just asked him to marry him or something.

Numbers were exchanged and Zane walked Heath out to the hallway. The door to Heath’s apartment was ajar, and he grabbed the handle before turning back to Zane.

“Thanks again. I really appreciate it.”

Zane’s eyes twinkled. “Any time.”

Heath went inside, closing the door behind him and leaning back against it.

“You’re gonna get locked out a lot more often, aren’t you?” Kam asked from the couch, grinning like a loon at Heath’s lovesick expression.

“Shut up, Kam.”

#zeath #zeath fic

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theroundeviloftable · 7 years ago

Text

Sunflowers

Pairing: Jhope x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Non AU

Summary: Y/N works at a small local art supply store while she is a university student studying art in Korea, and one day she receives a really unexpected customer at the worst of times. (Or the one where Y/N has the pleasure of meeting one of her idols, but of course it had to be when her hair was a mess and she was covered head to toe in paint splatters.)

Word Count: 2,447

A/N: This was a request from the lovely @kdrawvh , who has recently been sharing in my lack of loyalty and slipping into hoseok’s lane along with me,,,,thanks for always being there with me lmao. Hope you enjoy this, lovely! (Btw: Fine pupper ;))) )

Whenever the dialogue in quotes is bolded, it means someone is speaking korean idk korean so im writing it in english but pretend they’re speaking korean they’re in korea okay

I imagine him looking something like this for this story (the image isn’t mine):

It had been a pretty slow day at the small art store. Not too many customers, not too many deliveries, and not too many interruptions in general. Y/N was fairly pleased because this meant that she had basically had the majority of her 7 hour shift to herself to work on her painting behind the counter at the front of the small store. Her unlimited access to all of the supplies the store sold was one of the main reasons she took the job in the first place, so it always brightened her mood just a little more when she actually had time to use those supplies.

Y/N was just in the middle of re-tying her hair up in a ponytail after it had fallen out for the umpteenth time that day, when the bell above the door rang. With her hands full, she couldn’t really take out the paintbrush she was holding between her teeth while she finished tying her hair.

“Jamkkanman (just a moment),” she tried to mumble, turning to flash as much of a smile as she could at the middle-aged lady who had just entered the shop. Being an exchange student in Korea, Y/N always found herself forgetting the local customs and social norms, so she had to remind herself to return the polite bow the customer had given her in greeting.

After rushing to finish her ponytail, Y/N set down her paintbrush in the pot of brown paint she had been using and went to ask the customer if she needed assistance with her shopping. The lady had refused her help kindly, so Y/N returned to the front counter (and her beloved canvas) to continue her work. The mood was just exactly right for her due to the dusky sunlight streaming in through the store’s large front windows, and due to the soft songs that were currently playing over the loudspeaker from Y/N’s phone.

Thank god I didn’t forget to bring my AUX cord today...or else I wouldn’t have had decent music to listen to.

Soon enough the customer left without purchasing anything, and Y/N said goodbye and bowed as she watched the woman’s back move further down the street. With every step farther the woman took, Y/N’s excitement grew all the more until she finally turned the corner and was out of sight completely.

This meant that Y/N could go back to her painting.

She silently cheered and smiled to herself while pumping one fist in the air, before standing back to admire the picture so far. She had to reacquaint herself with the subject before continuing her shading and coloring with the multiple colors of paints she had out on the large easel she was using.

Y/N had chosen a rather complicated source of inspiration today: Van Gogh’s Sunflower painting. It was complicated not because of the subject of the painting, but because Y/N wanted to paint the sunflowers in a simultaneously different and similar way to Van Gogh, which was not something easy to accomplish. She desired to make the painting her own somehow, but it was so hard when all she wanted to do was recreate the perfection that Van Gogh had created already all those many years ago. Y/N once again picked up her wood palette in her left hand after considering the painting for a few more seconds, and picked up her brush with her right hand to begin mixing a dusty yellow color to shade in part of the flowers’ petals.

But again, just as she had finished with the shading, she was interrupted by the small bell above the door chiming happily, and Y/N sighed quietly to herself before turning around, but her standard greeting died in her throat when she didn’t see the customer she expected to see. With a furrowed brow, she peered curiously at the front door, but relaxed a little when she heard rustling down one of the aisles and then saw a flash of movement in the back of the store as (what appeared to be) a young man moved from aisle to aisle.

“Do you need help finding anything today, sir?” Y/N tried to speak loudly so that the customer would hear her, wherever he was in the small store.

“Ah, no, thank you! I think I can find it okay on my own!” Y/N started to turn back to her painting with a small smile on her lips, but a nagging voice in the back of her mind told her that she had heard that voice somewhere before.

And as much as she tried to ignore it, she could not, so she closed her eyes and slapped her cheeks a little to make herself focus again before turning away from the store aisles and back to her artwork. She chose an orange color this time and began to mix it with some brown paint that was already on her palette. One of her favorite songs, Spring Day by BTS, started to play over the speaker and she found herself unable to resist humming along to the familiar tune even though there was another person in the store.

Little did she know, but the man that had entered the shop had realized he actually did need help finding his desired supplies, and had approached the front counter to ask for help, but was now captivated by the sight and sound of the young artist at work. Her hair was askew and falling out of her pony tail, and there were dots (and larger, more intentional spots) of paint all over the girl; from what the man could see, the paint seemed to be everywhere from her hair, to her forehead, to her black t-shirt that sported the name of the shop, to the jeans that were cinched loosely around her waist with a belt that was, you guessed it, also covered in paint splotches. But all of this didn’t matter to the man, and it may have even enhanced the image of the almost ethereal girl that was glowing in the sun and painting it’s flowers, while singing one of his band’s songs.

As he watched, he looked for an appropriate time to get the girl’s attention, and luck seemed to be on his side when the girl set down her paintbrush a few moments later in favor of fixing her ponytail again for the third time that hour.

“Ah, excuse me miss...” said the man, watching the girl’s shoulders jump slightly as she was startled. He thought time would stop as she turned and he was finally face to face with her, able to finally meet the eyes that he had wanted to see ever since he heard her cheery, yet pensive voice ringing out across the shop.

Now Y/N, admittedly, had chosen to study art abroad in Korea with the thought in the back of her mind that she would maybe, possibly, if the heavens were on her side, get to meet some of the idols of kpop she had admired and cherished for years (although she would never say it out loud). But never did she expect to be given that chance on a random Thursday afternoon, at her job, with flyaway hairs running wild and paint all over herself.

Her humming to the chorus of Spring Day caught in the back of her throat as she found herself in front of one of her idols, Jung Hoseok himself, otherwise known as her hope, her angel, J-Hope.

Y/N struggled to find her voice while her mouth flopped uselessly open and closed because J-Hope was right in front of her and he was staring at her and their eyes were meeting and he wasn’t looking away and-

“I was uh...singing your song..rather off-key if I do say so myself..”

Y/N looked down at her shoes as she cursed herself for thinking that was a good thing to say first to the man she had often dreamed of meeting in person. Although she was forced to look back up at Hoseok when he smiled the sweetest smile and replied that it was fine and that he actually rather liked her version of the song; she couldn’t just not look at the source of the voice that was dripping in honey and happiness even more than she had heard over her speakers for so long. After hearing that J-Hope actually liked her rendition of Spring Day, Y/N felt like she could die there and then with no regrets, but she remembered that she still had a job to do and managed to stutter out a nervous “how can I help you today”.

“Ah, do you know BTS? I’m assuming you do since you knew all the words to our song, but you could just like that song y’know...I started rambling again didn’t I? Sorry, I tend to do that alot, anyways, you know our Jin-Hyung, right? Well, he’s making more of his famous hearts to send to ARMY during our next concert and he needs a giant sheet of red poster paper and glitter, do you know where I could find that?”

Hoseok was normally not nearly as nervous as he was around Y/N, but for some reason he found himself greatly affected by the innocent and almost reverent way she stared at him wide-eyed as he spoke.

Y/N was having almost the same problem as she tried to comprehend the fact that Jung-Fucking-Hoseok was live and in person a foot away from her while also trying to understand the rapid-fire Korean that the same man had spit in his haste to ask his question. Now she definitely knew his rapping skills were no joke.

Composing herself as best as she could, Y/N finally answered Hoseok with only a smile (one that dazzled his eyes and made him feel like he had actually been staring at the sun instead of at a human woman), and beckoned for him to follow her down one of the aisles where she knew the paper, glue, and glitter was kept.

“I think you’ll also need some glue, unless you guys have that already...”. Y/N stopped abruptly so that she could lean over and rummage through a drawer of different bottles of red glitter, and Hoseok had to stop himself from bumping into her and knocking the poor girl over, leading to him being slightly more flustered than he already was.

But Y/N had already lost most of her nervousness, slipping into her comforting world of arts and crafts, and almost forgetting that she was currently standing next to one of the world’s most popular Korean idols. Almost.

A nervous silence settled over the two as Y/N continued to gather the paper and glitter that Hoseok had requested, and as Hoseok continued to try his best not to stare at the girl before him and trace the paint on her skin with his eyes.

They both tried to speak at the same time, effectively shutting them both up and having the exact opposite affect of what they had wanted previously. But this only made them start laughing really loudly, and soon both Hoseok and Y/N were practically rolling on the floor. They had both been so nervous that their feelings had manifested in the form of almost-maniacal laughter.

Once they had both started to sober up, Y/N showed the glitter she had selected to Hoseok for his approval, and he had smiled fondly at her while nodding in confirmation that her artistic judgement was indeed perfect.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it perfect but...”

Hoseok couldn’t help but let his lower jaw drop open in surprise before realizing his mistake and fixing his expression once more. “Did I...did I say that out loud just now?”

Y/N just giggled (and Hoseok swore it was even an more beautiful sight and sound than Jin-hyung singing and playing Awake on the guitar) before nodding a yes in his direction. Hoseok simply laughed a little at himself as he awkwardly ran a hand through his hair, while in his mind he was praying to every single one of his lucky stars that he could make it out of the store without embarrassing himself further.

Y/N kept laughing quietly to herself at how much cuter Hoseok was in real life as she continued to lead him down the aisle to collect the rest of the things he needed. Once they were all done, Y/N and Hoseok made their way to the front counter.

“Ah, Y/N, let me carry all that stuff. I am the one buying it after all.”

Y/N felt her stomach flip and fireworks go off in her heart when she heard her name falling from Hoseok’s lips; it was something she never thought she would get to hear (considering she had also forgotten that she was wearing a nametag on her uniform shirt). It was all she could do to stop herself from squealing, so she started to ring up Hoseok’s items in a valiant effort to distract herself.

But as any reasonable person knows, it is rather hard to ignore the actual sun when it is brightly watching and smiling at you from mere inches away as you scan barcodes and tap on electronic touchscreens.

Y/N managed to slip into a comfortable silence within herself, when Hoseok chose to shatter it with his next words. Y/N hadn’t even noticed that she had finished ringing him up and charging his credit card, pushing a receipt and a pen at him for him to sign.

“I really like your take on the Van Gogh, by the way. Those sunflowers remind me of you a little.”

Hoseok felt a tiny smirk spread on his lips as he saw the way Y/N’s eyes widened slightly at the wink he threw her way, impressed at himself for how quickly he was able to get his butt in gear and actually start flirting with the girl he had found attractive since the moment he had walked into the store.

He quickly finished signing the receipt and turned it around so that it faced Y/N once more, and left the store with a quiet “thank you” and one more sunny smile thrown over his shoulder.

Y/N felt a similar smile overtake her features as she looked down at his receipt that now bore his familiar autograph, along with his chat ID on a popular messaging app. Y/N couldn’t believe she had taken the tiny bells above the door for granted for so long, as they were what had alerted her to her dream come true in the first place; she would make sure to never forsake the little silver bells again.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, and don’t be afraid to like, reblog, and tell me your thoughts/comments!

#bts scenarios #bts fic #jhope x reader #jung hoseok #bts jhope #jung hoseok x reader #bts #jhope #he is literally a sunflower #so i thought the title would fit him #kdrawvh #lmao what even is this #started out one way and ended up another #thats my life for you i guess

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rabbitwrite · 8 years ago

Text

I Wasn’t Stood Up | I.M x Reader

characters: reader (gender neutral), im changkyun

genre: comedy, fluff

word count: 1800

Refusing to accept the fact that you’ve been stood up by your date, you dial their number to question why they have yet to meet up with you at the cafe you agreed to meet at. However, in your hasty attempt to make the phone call, you fail to notice the one mistake you make with the combination of digits you input.

You only come to realize the mistake you made when a certain boy named Changkyun picks up the phone instead.

Half an hour.

Half an hour was exactly how much time passed since 7:25, the specific time you and your date had agreed to meet at. You were more than certain, the clock above the cafe’s entrance indicated so.

You thought it would be a good idea to get there five minutes early, but apparently you thought wrong.

7:55 and you were still isolated at the table you had claimed in the corner, still waving off any waiters and waitresses who attempted to serve you.

“It’s okay, I’m just waiting for someone,” you told them those very words every single time.

Oh how you came to regret letting those words leave your mouth.

Locking eyes with a woman who had turned back to glance at you before she exited the cafe, you had to resist the urge to walk over to her table and finish the caramel macchiato and last few bites of a bran muffin she had left behind. Regardless of your personal preference, you just needed something to tame the hunger that had built up inside of you.

Avoiding any sort of food or beverage prior to your date was another one of your ‘brilliant ideas’ you were applauding yourself for, right before you were about to mentally slap yourself for making such decisions.

Sighing inwardly, you just came to realize that the woman who had just left was also another customer you entered with around the same time period. You avoided the gaze of any other customers that entered the premises, eventually landing your gaze on a nearby waitress.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe I could take your order right now if you’re ready,” she took out her notepad and pen, ready to take any order you would give her.

Smiling politely, you gave her a nod. “Yeah, I’m sure my date wouldn’t mind if I got a head start.”

Another mental slap for yourself, still expecting that date of yours to come and join you. Bonus follow up slap for mentioning your date to someone at all.

You gave the waitress your desired order to momentarily distract yourself from your negative thoughts, but they eventually resurfaced once she walked away.

Gaze drifting down you your phone placed on the surface of your table, another idea sparked up from the depths of your mind. At first you were a bit hesitant to think about it, considering how well your previous ideas during the day impacted you right now. But then you realized that it was, in fact, a rather brilliant idea.

The last chance for your date to redeem themselves before you would officially call it quits.

Tapping the ‘Phone’ icon on your screen multiple times, you quickly swiped over to the keyboard feature that displayed all main digits on the screen.

Your fingers tapped on the digits you memorized without hesitation, going at such a rapid pace that didn’t allow much time for you to process each selected number.

Not that you cared at this point. In this state of desperation, you didn’t even check the final result before selecting the ‘Call’ button, bringing the cellular device to your ear.

Mere seconds after the dialing sound rang, it stopped, indicating that the person you had called picked up.

Taking a deep breath, you managed to utter a quick “What do you think you’re doing?” before continuing to ramble to your date who currently stood you up.

“It’s been over half an hour! We agreed to meet up tonight, remember? I hope you forgot or something, because I didn’t think of you as someone who would blow me off after all we’ve done together. I thought we had something going between the two of us, but I guess not, huh?”

Silence was the only thing to come from the other side of the line. At this point, your were fuming. Your mouth opened to drop another load of harsh words, but you were interrupted. "Uh, who's this?" While your jaw snapped shut, your heart dropped. The owner of the voice, whoever it was, had a deep one. It was pleasant and attractive sounding, but that wasn't the point. It was unfamiliar, and it certainly wasn't the voice that belonged to your date. "Oh jeez," you muttered in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry. I must've dialed the wrong number," "No, no, it's fine! I get it," the guy on the other side of the line exclaimed. "I'm sorry, I swear I won't bother you again," your cheeks began to heat up as you spoke. Every word you uttered felt like a part of you dying. "Wait," you bit your lip when you heard him from the other end of the line. "I thought you were waiting for your date?"

Sighing inwardly, you adjusted your seating position before responding. "I am, er, I was."

"I can be your date, actually. I don't really mind, just text me where you're at and I'll make up for whoever stood you up!"

"I wasn't stood up!" you declared much more loudly than you had intended, earning a few looks from others around.

"You don't have to go through the trouble, honestly. I was about to leave after my order came, but if you insist... I'll text you. But I won't get my hopes up," lowering your voice as you bent closer towards the surface of your table, you went proceeded to text the number the current address of the cafe without leaving the call.

"That cafe's pretty close to my house! Lucky you," mused the boy on the other line.

"Yeah, lucky..." you echoed with a tinge of sarcasm. More like unlucky. "What's your name?"

"Changkyun. See you soon," he ended the call without giving you the chance to speak, let alone introduce yourself in return.

You lost track of the mental slaps you had given yourself. It was already embarrassing enough that your date had bailed on you, but now this 'Changkyun' guy had volunteered to take their place?

Despite being grateful for his offer, half of you wanted to run out of the cafe right now and block his number, never to speak of the experience again.

But you knew you couldn't. So you sat in wait.

8:20 and the waitress who had taken your order just brought the food and beverage to your table. Just as you bid her thanks before she walked away, the entrance door swung open.

In came a young man that panted as if he had just finished running a marathon. Still, he was beyond attractive and his focused gaze as he scanned the area made you realize that he was probably the guy you had gotten off the phone with not too long ago.

Perhaps it was your prolonged stare that caused him to meet with your gaze, but whether or not it was the young man seemed to lead himself towards your direction.

“Are you Changkyun?” you questioned, not wanting him to initiate the conversation.

“I am what I am,” he responded with a cheeky grin, taking the seat across from you.

Choosing not to linger on his rather unique response, you introduced yourself quickly before taking a sip of your beverage.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” Changkyun grinned, revealing dimples that curved in the cheeks of his flesh.

His genuine smile and overall presence felt like a weight lifted from your shoulders, and that was enough to get you to smile back. “You didn’t keep me waiting any longer than my original date did.”

“Ah right, your original date stood you up.” All the kindness and sincerity in his expression shifted into one so playful and mischievous, you almost tipped your drink over.

“I wasn’t stood up!” you exclaimed far too loudly than you would’ve liked, giving off a sheepish smile to those who you had claimed with your outburst. Even Changkyun snickered a bit when the waitress from before came over, asking him if she could get him anything.

After putting an order for an Iced Americano, your new date flashed you a devilish smirk. “Hey, I get it, it might take awhile to get over but at least you get to be with someone even better,” Changkyun gestured to himself with both of his thumbs.

You rolled your eyes in response shortly before you let out a laugh. It wouldn’t be the first time the young man would cue your laughter, as his humorous and down to earth personality made your heart flutter. Conversations with him just flew so naturally, it was almost as if you had been dating him for ages rather than the past few minutes.

Those few minutes rolled into half an hour, then beyond, and a quarter after 9:00 a waiter in the cafe was politely asking you two if you intended on leaving soon.

“Ah, you’re closing up? Sorry about that. Let me pay for our stuff so we can get going,” Changkyun declared after you were approached by the waiter, standing up from his seat with his wallet in hand.

“No, no, wait! Changkyun, let me pay,” you raised yourself from your own chair, but your date simply sent you a wink before handing over his credit card.

With your attempt turning out futile, you grabbed your coat that hung from your chair and sighed. “You’re too nice to me,” you admitted to Changkyun once he returned.

He shrugged with another smile. “I know.”

Giving him a friendly smack on the arm, the two of you ended up sharing another laugh in unison as you walked out the door together.

“I… I actually had fun tonight,” you admitted. Bracing yourself for another one of his playful replies, you were surprised to feel Changkyun’s fingers intertwined with yours instead.

“It doesn’t have to be just tonight,” he eventually responded to you with words. “We could do this again.”

“We should,” you corrected with a smile, adding Changkyun to your phone’s contacts with your freehand. He watched as you chose a cute emoji to put along side of his name, and chuckled when he witnessed you deleting the text conversation you had with your former date.

“I’ll be sure not to ditch you or anything too.”

Gawking at his latest addition to his statement, you gave him a mock shove before he draped an arm around your shoulders.

“I wasn’t stood up,” you echoed your words from before, though this time you couldn’t resist the pouty frown Changkyun gave you in response. Quickly going up to peck him on the cheek, you added “Because you came as my date instead”.

“That’s right,” the young man grinned widely. “And if your original date didn’t bail, we wouldn’t be here together.”

And for once in that night, you were glad about it.

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adhdvane · 3 years ago

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Anon back again, don't worry about delay in answer! I'm not expecting you to reply in a matter of seconds and I'm patient anyway! (●'◡'●) (and yeah, tumblr's notification system kinda suck so really, not your fault haha)

I understand your struggle with fics all too well lol I'm sure a time will come when it just clicks and you can write the good stuff ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ And no need to feel bad if you haven't posted a lot on ao3! You don't have to have 1000 fics or 200k word-long fics for your works to be enjoyable!! Even little ficlets and drabbles are good to have around ♥

It's good of you to have taken time for yourself if you needed it ♥ And yeah, completely understandable to hesitate and come back to fandom in general with the current state of things (a couple years ago I made an IE/Go sideblog and I'm still terrified that someone is going to come up and yell at me for shipping the characters lmao And that's without counting the Problematic™ fics I wrote when I was 16 lmao)

Regarding your tags, I'm just sitting there like starry-eyed because YES TenKyou. I'm DELIGHTED to know that's your preference because that's mine too for the ship asklhjkh

As for Todd and Prof Mirror, that's a tough and personal question, so good luck! (I'm thinking Todd topping's nice but does it make the prof kink better or not is the question!! ALSO in the french version, I know there's a line from Todd going like "Mirror was already being called Professor before he was a professor" so maybe he's not the only one with a prof kink, just from a different angle, hah)

(you say sorry for rambling, but joke's on you, I ramble too! Sorry for clustering your blog though woops Have a good day! (´･ω･`) )

rip, okay, once again i apologize about this one being even later, mostly bc i saw it early, but i haven't been able to sit down and respond to it. this week was the last week of the month so i actually had a lot to do at work and was able to go in every day (as opposed to 1 - 2 days bc business is still so slow). but at the end of the month i do invoicing for inventory charges for that month for each customer. though i was able to actually get a lot of it done sooner than usual (bc i actually started the process on tuesday instead of thursday), there were still three big ones i couldn't even do until thursday bc they had several orders in production that didn't get shipped until thursday. I was going to finally get to this ask on friday when i got home (we only work half days on friday and close at noon)… but the new gbf event had started… and uhg… a sho centric event. g od.

rest of the word vomit under the cut

before i just—IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ ABOUT THIS GBF RAMBLING FEEL FREE TO SKIP BELOW TO THE END THE GBF OF RAMBLE—this event askjdsjkdfslkdjsdjg talk about giving the antag his redemption art event. the emotional growth in sho. so many new assets to save… there are fricking 6 different versions of his character labeled _painful (_painful, _painful2, etc.), and like so many zoom in's that basically every one of his images has an _up version (the battle ones ((the ones of him on his gearcycle)) also have a bunch of _up2 versions that are zoomed in between the default and _up close up) anyways these in particular kill me.

sho "i'm-not-going-to-cry-or-show-expresions-of-gratitude" awkwardly smiling and crying in this event (while also repeatedly getting the shit kicked out of him/getting hurt. having a moment of breaking down from exhaustion and pain, in the rain, before deciding he has to swallow his pride. every single english word that comes out of his mouth, cv: taniyama kishou is a gift (on a side note i can't believe he fucking played alpha in chronostone. like thats fucking hilarious a va and voicalist capable of such range and drama voicing alpha and his serious monotone ass). Sho (@tsubasa): You showed me the light before—[…] Tsubasa: Wait, what? Whaddya mean I showed you the light? ((you mean when he punched you in the fucking face at the end of the previous event of this series?))). I mean I already shipped bc of the their last event, how can you not ship the guy screaming he's going to kill the protag w/the protag esp after getting punched in the face by the protag at the end makes him calm down and be like fine i guess you win i'm not going to try to kill you know and our gangs don't have to fight. also they're both like 16 (or at least tsubasa is canon 16 (a yeas totally looks like a 16 year old) and sho is at least still in school and at least confirmed to be a minor (not age of majority, which idk what that is exactly in universe, could be 18, could be 20, bc it is fantasy, but it's also japanese, thoguh japan's age of majority is actually lowering from 20 to 18 next april (2022), drinking/smoking/gambling age will still be 20, and the comment in this event was about we're still minors save the smoking for when you're an adult). sho could arguably be 18 or 19 and still believably in school and be considered a minor legally (if in universe gbf follows japanese laws) considering the time he spent in juvie he could easily have been held back. gbf will probably just make him tsubasa's age if a canon age is release. but thinking about sho being 19 and tsubasa being 16 would make some ppl upset and that brings me joy. (also just how funny it could be thinking about (bc everyone is perpetually the same age) how later when sho a year older and legally being able to drink, and tsubasa not, and despite the fact sho being like i will break the laws about physically assaulting a guy but underage drinking, smoking, and drugs is a no-no is fucking hilarious. (the app is rated t so i guess there's only so much you can do…) (oh and one last note, a character in the event asking if sho enjoys the pain and is a masochist, to have other character be like dude you can't just ask someone that. sho saying no he doesn't enjoy the pain. only for later when they are escaping, a character noting "You look rather happy about all this. Now I'm sure youre a masochist." gbf first crushing my sho masochist headcanon and then building it back up in this event, thank u gbf). anways, rip that was a lot and not even everything, as you can see i have been… distracted by this event. apologies

—END OF GBF RAMBLE—

oh god worry about ppl like that in ina like, there really people out there who don't want you shipping ficitional children?????? and the main ina cast is roughly between 12-15. and got i started watching ina in 2013 when i was 19. which apparently for some people is like bad uwu because it's a show for young teenagers (like lol too bad i'm 27 and even though i haven't kept up with aries i still love ina and all the little babies and wont stop shipping). i didn't even know there was people out there who get UPSET AT AGING UP??? like wtf???? sorry i want them to be old enough to marry, adopt children, have a job, and also f.uck. the dpk au is my lifeblood (and has a lot of Problematic™ content that's never even been posted online anywhere bc it used to be an rp. my favorite is that out of all the relationships in the au, tenma and kyousuke's is probably the most unhealthy bc of kyousuke's mental health. some very bad things happened to fei (per request of my rp partner) (part of vanfeny and garsha's revenge on saru as they were sent to megun while saru walks around ''free'' (what exactly is free is a whole other lore mess in itself that i wrote up about post chrono stone future). and that just lead to more bad things fei then did to himself. problematic™ content 9492347 in the dpk au, shipping ozrock and lalaya. (even worse, bc of lore planning i did for the au and decided how their species worked, lalaya is about 6.5 cycles (faram obius years) or roughly 130 earth years and biologically similar to 13 year earth years, and ozrock is about 48 Ixal years roughly 48 earth years and biologically similar to 24 earth years. so like even a worse ship. i mean just ignore cultural norms would be different on an alien planet and also she's royalty and has an obligation to be wed even younger and is probably socially more mature than a human 13 year old. rip sorry i just like alien stuff. a lot of this was also because wouldn't it be great for lalaya to have a really long lifespan so the human friends she makes get older faster and also die way before her :) ina's gunna hurt me with the bug aliens then i'm going to… continue to hurt myself with more alien life span stuff.)

Anyways, With TenKyou, idk I think it's easy to paint tenma as the innocent ~pure baby~ and kyousuke as ~bad boy~ bc of the first inago… and seed kyousuke was a little bastard man (affectionate). which would idk explain the default to kyouten. but like kyousuke chills the hell out in chrono stone and galaxy. and just bc tenma is a dumbass with a heart of gold obsessed with soccer doesn't necessarily mean he's has to be ~innocent baby 受け~ trope. (not that these are the only tropes that decide) (maybe it's bc i sort of like messing with what it must be like to be the main protagonists best friend and watch him continue to overcome everything and be in the spot light and how everyone praises him. kyousuke with self-esteem issues, looking back at all the problems he's caused, tenma has flaws but they're either negligible or something to love about him and mine have only hurt others. disregarding his own goddamn plot armor in the past. complex, emotional, suffering kyousuke is how i like my kyousuke. need we even get into how god eden was canonically revealed to be physically/mentally abusing seeds and that whole can of worms) (also just "nervous baby i don't know how to approach tenma" kyousuke, "cheeky little shit doesn't have any regards to personal space and boundries" tenma) at least if anyone starts giving me shit about an ina ship or problematic fictional ina content, i can always respond with something i drew back in 2015.

back to the matter of new snap though… that line is so familiar (im pretty sure it's in the eng txt, i have it set to jpn audio tho). i recently started keeping a log of the messages that pop up on the camp, lab, and map screens (but haven't saved too many bc i get distracted or at least i know i'm missing quite a few i have vague memories of). (also idk why my first thought to that line was mirror responding with "That was because you were the one calling me that.") there actually were a couple messages i saved initially that would be useful for fic writing:

Todd: "The professor used to be kinda reckless back in the day. I suppose after 10 year he must've calmed down a bit."

and

Mirror: "Todd's calmed down since I last saw him. Or maybe he's just acting mature because you kids are around…"

possible implications from these that I'm deciding to consider for headcanons:

both reckless and wild in their early 20's but that's not unusual, so they were acting like reckless young adults when they were 20. makes sense.

because mirror mentions the last time i saw him (which is definitely implied not 10 years ago since todd had a research team pin so obviously he's been around a bit since the lab was established) meaning todd is potentially still a chaotic bastard but is just trying to act like an adult in front of the kids. beautiful.

and on that note another wonderful Tood message:

Todd: "I never invited Phil to be my pupil—he just declared himself my "number one student" and started tagging along! But honestly…I was kind of flattered."

the possibility that when todd showed up in game, after that cutscene he went to talk to mirror like "this 10 year old just started following me and wont go away, pls help. what do i do?????"

this unsupervised 10 year old just followed a ~30 year old man into the wilderness and somehow just declares todd is mentor (and took the research team pin from todd to ''borrow''). this is a hostage situation. todd is the hostage.

the idea that perhaps todd just got back from a long expedition and was glad to be back and spend time with mirror, except this kid started following him around and wont leave him alone or go away, and then when he got to the lab there were two more kids there. how the fuck am i supposed to get it on with mirror when we have little alone time and when we finally do we're constantly at risk of being interrupted and/or walked-in on. (that last part was mainly the premise of the fic i wanted to write. "these kids are a handful how are we supposed to have intimate time. especially bc they're all so young and have child energy levels and when they go to bed i am already fucking exhausted." i'm thinking it might work better as like a drabble collection, that way i don't have to adhere to a plot line and can pick and choose scenarios to write because i keep winding up with more scenario ideas that i can nearly piece together into a coherent timeline anymore.)

(also a bit that rita becomes suspicious that they are 100% fu.cking even though all that happened was mirror wasn't asleep up in his bed above the lab and fell asleep in one of the bungalows w/todd and then tried to cover it up like haha what no, i was checking on todd he's not feeling well uh… what? where are my pants? oh. oh i can't believe i just totally got out of bed and left the lab without my pants haha.) (todd and mirror just trying to keep their relationship a secrete out of fear of rumors spreading and it affecting the lab's funding, even though rumors definitely started ages ago but neither of them realize). (also todd doesn't trust phil to keep his mouth shut and doesn't like the optics of the random 10 year old who started following him (UNSUPERVISED) just blabbing to his parents about how his cool mentor is dating the professor at the lab like yikes that could end badly worst case scenario.)

(i like the idea of mirror playing along with todd's ki.nk, albeit a little awkward sometimes (not very good at being intentionally 'sexy' about it, but that's not what todd wants anyways bc it's already inherenty sexy for him). Phill has a message "I barely get half the stuff the professor talks about. Do you?" and i can only image if he said that to todd

todd: （人*´∀｀）i know it's hot

phil: what)

anyways i hope you don't mind me rambling even more on your asks like this. last time i totally just cut chunks out to be smaller but this time… i'm going to leave things in rip.

#ask #anon #thank you or bearing with me #i haven't been on tumblr the whole week oops #sammy be quiet #i have been thinking about them a lot though #alSO RIP I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT TENKYOU A LOTT TO BECAUSE OF YOU #listening to ina music on the way to work every day this week #but also now i've just entered tsubasa/sho hell because of the new gbf event #their previous event was in 2018 so it's been some time #i didn't except sho to ever get content again #and now i know he's gunna get a gacha release when the banner changes to gala #and i want him so bad #if i don't get him.......... i would be willing to later sup ticket his ass though it'll be a while til he'd be ticketable rip #cw kink mention ///////#the dpk au means a lot to me even now #also speaking of ina shipping my first ina ship tsunatachi and god there was a really good doujin artist on pixiv oh boy #some people on here would lose their shit over like so much of pixiv's content #idk man #i apologize if some stuff doesn't make sense bc brain just vomits out words and thinks everything is in the correct order

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writingguide003-blog · 5 years ago

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Out from the margins: meet the New Daughters of Africa writers

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/out-from-the-margins-meet-the-new-daughters-of-africa-writers/

Out from the margins: meet the New Daughters of Africa writers

More than 25 years after her groundbreaking Daughters of Africa anthology, Margaret Busby reflects on the next generation of black women writers around the world

Time was when the perception of published writers was that all the women were white and all the blacks were men (to borrow the title of a key 1980s black feminist book). At best, there was a handful of black female writers Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, Maya Angelou who were acknowledged by the literary establishment. This was the climate in which, more than 25 years ago, I compiled and published Daughters of Africa. It was critically acclaimed, but more significant has been the inspiration that 1992 anthology gave to a fresh generation of writers who form the core of its sequel, New Daughters of Africa.

The critic Juanita Cox told me: I received Daughters of Africa as a birthday gift from my father. Two things immediately struck me about the book. It was huge and it contained women like me. Even though Id been brought up in Nigeria, I had had very little exposure to black literature. At school the only black characters Id ever read about occupied the margins: figures like the Sedleys servant Sambo and the mixed-race heiress Miss Swartz in Thackerays Vanity Fair. Daughters of Africa introduced me to a huge number of writers Id never previously been aware of. And on a more personal level it made me realise that I was somehow valid. The anthology was peopled not just by women of pure African descent, but also women of mixed ancestry, and just like the women the book contained, I too could have a voice.

Ivorian Edwige-Rene Dro said: It was as if the daughters of Africa featured in that anthology were telling me, their daughter and grand-daughter, to bravely go forth and bridge the literary gap between francophone and anglophone Africa. Bermudian writer Angela Barry, meanwhile, spoke of her thrill at coming across a contributor whose father was from her island, allowing her to feel that I also was a daughter of Africa and that I too had something to say. Writer Phillippa Yaa de Villiers recalls: We were behind the bars of apartheid we South Africans had been cut off from the beauty and majesty of African thought traditions, and Daughters of Africa was among those works that replenished our starved minds.

Windrush is an ever-present theme Jamaican immigrants arrive at Tilbury in 1948. Photograph: PA

New Daughters of Africa has been a truly collaborative venture: writers steered me in the direction of others whose work they admire. Altogether, more than 200 writers from more than 50 countries contributed work to the new anthology, from Margo Jefferson to Aybmi Adby, Malorie Blackman to Yrsa Daley-Ward. New Daughters of Africa begins with some important entries from the 18th and 19th centuries a reminder that later generations stand tall because of those who have gone before. Nana Asmau (17931863), a revered figure in northern Nigeria, spoke four languages and was an educated and independent Islamic woman whose life and work can be considered a precursor to modern feminism in Africa. Sarah Parker Remond (18151894), abolitionist, lecturer, suffragist, demonstrates many of the themes and serendipitous connections that characterise this anthology. Her letter of September 1866 to the London Daily News, in which she waxes eloquent on the reactionary movement against the coloured race in the United States, and castigates the social commentator Thomas Carlyle for having claims to the gratitude of all negro haters on both sides of the Atlantic, makes one wonder how she might have reacted to a tweet by Donald Trump. Elizabeth Keckley (18181907), her life bridging the 19th and the 20th centuries, describes first hand the trauma of enslavement in her autobiography Behind the Scenes: Or, Thirty Years a Slave and Four Years in the White House, published in 1868 exactly 100 years before the mould-breaking year that Delia Jarrett-Macauley refers to, when on university campuses from Paris to New York, students were protesting against the old order, against bureaucratic elites, against capitalism, sexism and racism and all forms of authoritarianism.

The year 1968 was blighted by the assassination of Martin Luther King in April. Later that month Enoch Powell gave his infamous Rivers of Blood speech, scaremongering about mass immigration to the UK. And it was in that year that Angela Cobbinah, the only black girl in her Cornish village, watched African American athletes Tommie Smith and John Carlos raise their fists in a Black Power salute on the podium at the Mexico City Olympics. I felt an unfamiliar emotion, she writes. Call it connection or kinship, or the bubbling of a youthful rebelliousness.

Such connections, and bonds of kinship, actual as well as intuited, strengthen the links between contributors. There are the literal mother-daughter relationships, as with Josephine St Pierre Ruffin (18421924) and Florida Ruffin Ridley (18611943). It is pleasing to note the emergence as a writer of Yvonne Bailey-Smith, having raised and empowered three successful children (Zadie Smith and her brothers), to witness Attillah Springer following the path of her mother Eintou Pearl Springer, a contributor to Daughters of Africa, and to see Rebecca Walker, daughter of Alice Walker, achieve prominence in her own right.

In many ways 1992 seems much longer ago than a quarter century; yet, while much has changed, many challenges remain to the publication of work by women of African descent. Who imagined in 1992 that we would celebrate the first African American US president in 2008, and who could have predicted who would follow Barack Obama in the White House? Much more empowering to think of Michelle Obama, who in 2018 broke records with her memoir Becoming, selling 1.4m copies in its first week.

In 1992, Morrison had not yet been awarded the Nobel prize. Only the following year did she become the first black woman to win it. Many accomplishments were years away: Jackie Kay, the current Scottish makar and a contributor to the first anthology, had only just begun to receive recognition after the 1991 publication of her first book. So the authors within New Daughters of Africa that may still be unknown are as deserving of attention as the household names.

Custom, tradition, friendships, romance, sexuality, intersectional feminism, the politics of gender, race and identity all are explored, in ways that are surprising, angry, considered, joyful, heartrending. Taboo subjects are addressed head on, familiar dilemmas elicit fresh takes. How candid and engaging is Ted Hughes poetry prize-winner Jay Bernards I resist the urge to destroy my own records by reflecting on archives, how I use them, and what they have meant to me. How touching is Andaiyes recollection of her amity with Audre Lorde:

I do not remember when I wrote Audre but I did, and I remember that she answered immediately and sent me a copy of A Burst of Light with the inscription, Sister Survivor May these words be a bridge over that place where there are no words or where they are so difficult as to sound like a scream!

Unflinching stories Audre Lorde. Photograph: Robert Alexander/Getty Images

Lordes name recurs in other contributors work, including that of Edwidge Danticat, Sisonke Msimang and Panashe Chigumadzi, who writes:

It wasnt until I met the force of the unflinching stories of our mothers and grandmothers and aunts and sisters written by black women that I was compelled to find an answer to the question: what did it mean to be a black woman in my grandmothers time?

The different ways of connecting to an African heritage are an ever-present theme, as are stories of migration, and specifically Windrush stories, typified by the poignant writing of the late Andrea Levy, whose father was among those immigrants who sailed to Britain from the Caribbean on the Empire Windrush in 1948. Stories of mothers separated from offspring through transatlantic crossings, and the resultant psychological effects, inform many of the contributions.

How you find your identity in the course of growing up in Britain is a major thread, whether it is Simi Bedford describing the particular experience of being an African at boarding school in England shared by many (myself included) or Nah Dove making the journey from a childhood in West Africa.

So often London encapsulates the black British experience, with all its possibilities for racism, and much else besides. For Donu Kogbara, whose harrowing tale is of being kidnapped in her Nigerian homeland, London has become a sanctuary.

The book reveals works in progress, identities in transition, shapeshifting sensibilities, a delicious mash-up of expectations. Who knew that Nadifa Mohamed, one of Grantas best young British novelists in 2013, was also a fine poet? The chef Zoe Adjonyoh, from whom cookery writing might have been expected, delivers a memoir of her father that is indeed A Beautiful Story. Contributors are drawn to write about countries not theirs by birth: a Zimbabwean shines light on Antigua, Ghana has an impact on a writer from Trinidad.

Another link with Daughters of Africa is the image on the UK cover, by black British photographer Suzanne Roden, featuring her friend Sibusiso Nozipho Mavolwane (19582015). Busby herself exemplifies the international scope, historical trajectory and enduring female bonds represented by the 200-plus women in New Daughters of Africa. The third of five sisters, she was born in what was then Southern Rhodesia, lived in the former Gold Coast, attended boarding-school in Sussex, and from the 1980s worked in London. New Daughters of Africa pays tribute to her as well as to the many writers we have lost, most recently the talented Andrea Levy.

The aspirational mantra of inclusivity and diversity is increasingly routine, fashionable even, in todays publishing industry, but lasting change has yet to be achieved. Verna Wilkins, founder of the childrens imprint Tamarind Books, explains in her essay that she began hands-on work creating books in diverse classrooms in the belief that the process must start with children: They should see themselves as the authors, editors, designers, illustrators and publishers of the future.

New Daughters of Africa: An International Anthology of Writing by Women of African descent, edited by Margaret Busby, is published by Myriad. New Daughters of Africa is launched at Women of the World at Southbank Centre, London SE1, 8-9 March. southbankcentre.co.uk.

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us

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companion-able-blog · 7 years ago

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NO2X: Breaking Bitcoin Shows Not any Love for any SegWit2x Tricky Fork with Paris

“There’s no such thing for a safe tricky fork, ” Electrum prospect developer Betty Voegtlin solved an visitors member within the Breaking Bitcoin conference around Paris continue weekend. “I would propose to have re-run protection, naturally , ” he / she added.

Area support regarding SegWit2x, often the Bitcoin your own proposal spearheaded by Craig Silbert’s Digital camera Currency Set, was nearly absent inside Paris. When ever the “2x” part of the The big apple Agreement has been discussed inside French cash, speakers and also visitors significantly considered that a possibility to defend next to - not really a huge proposal to support succeed.

Electrum users, for instance , will not blindly follow hash power regarding a chain-split, Voegtlin revealed throughout his or her talk; on the other hand, they’ll have the capacity to choose which usually side regarding such a separated they want to be placed on. And essentially, the light in weight wallet will probably implement safety measures to counteract users by accidentally shelling out funds to both chains: “replay protection” that will seems impossible to be put in place on a standard protocol level when SegWit2x does indeed fork away from.

“We 're ready, ” Voegtlin said. “If [SegWit2x] does not necessarily include play the recording again protection, the exact fork prognosis we have throughout Electrum will likely be useful. ”

Breaking Bitcoin Inspired by successful Climbing Bitcoin discussion format, the particular French Bitcoin community visible the first copy of Bursting Bitcoin a couple blocks from Eiffel Podium last quick. Bitcoin designers, academics along with technical-minded Bitcoiners gathered for just a diverse course, but with the more common denominator staying Bitcoin’s safety measures.

“For the last two years, typically the Bitcoin area has been worrying with degree and scalability, ” Kevin Loaec, dealing with director on Chainsmiths along with co-organizer with the event, instructed Bitcoin Newspaper. “But Im not so thinking about scale, I will worried about mining or prospecting centralization, an absence of privacy in addition to fungibility... these kind of things. For industry we should instead recognize a lot more challenges than scalability; i hope this national gathering reflects in which. ”

Although the first Small business Bitcoin seminar two years previously was a incredibly specific defense mechanism a lurking block measurement limit raise hard pay - in that case put forth by means of Bitcoin XT - this specific wasn’t actually the drive behind Breaking up Bitcoin. Nevertheless, once again, a new controversial very difficult fork is definitely looming beingshown to people there. This time imbedded in the BTC1 implementation created Bloq co-founder Jeff Garzik, the New You are able to Agreement’s SegWit2x is appointed to increase Bitcoin’s “base mass size limit” to two terme conseillé by The fall of - the incompatible method change which may split often the Bitcoin multilevel in not one but two.

And it to be able to take considerably to recognize the way unpopular the exact proposal what food was in Paris. Maybe most clearly, Italian Bitcoin startup ChainSide led your protest plan by circulating NO2X peel offs; the Twits hashtag ended up being proudly added in as a little bit of flair into the by now top quality Make Bitcoin Great All over again and UASF hats. In addition to voices vital of the undertaking - including Voegtlin impressive call for play again protection instructions could persistently count on coup of applause. From a complex perspective, the particular proposal can often be considered aid quite frankly : to be clumsy.

“Unfortunately, SegWit2x […] was created to effectively possibly be as troublesome to the few chain, ” MyRig manufacture and BIP91 author Wayne Hilliard claimed on step during the miner panel.

SegWit2x: The Disputes Arguments resistant to the 2x tough fork usually are diverse.

Probably its major problem, SegWit2x currently falls short of basic safety methods to prevent unwitting users out of losing finances. This includes, just remember, the aforementioned replay again protection, yet a new handle format could well be similarly very helpful.

Additionally , typically the three-month guide time for this amazing hard derive is considered particularly short rapid assuming often the goal should be to prevent any chain-split start with. “If anyone asks any of the builders, they will commonly want to see 1 . 5 years or two several years lead time frame, for one thing with seeing that wide an impression on every one of the software plus hardware in existence as a challenging fork, ” Blockstream co-founder and Hashcash inventor Doctor Adam Rear noted within a Q&A time.

And if the exact chain may split into several networks and also currencies instructions one after the current Bitcoin protocol and the other adopting tough fork aid the concern becomes which often of the a couple of gets to makes use of the name “Bitcoin. ” Thus far, proponents of your SegWit2x tricky fork demonstrate no enthusiasm to pick a whole new name.

That branding challenge, Bitcoin Main contributor along with Ciphrex co-founder Eric Lombrozo pointed out, delivers yet another position of equipment.

“My particular opinion is always that whomever can be proposing the particular change, typically the onus will be on them to show widespread help support, ” Lombrozo said while in his discuss on project changes. “The people that need to keep state of affairs don’t ought to show something. It’s the individuals who want to replace the stuff that require to demonstrate you can find widespread service. ”

As well as now, not every person is convinced this SegWit2x will indeed include this higher level of support : or everything close to the idea. While various large gold mining pools, and also a significant range of companies, currently have signed about the New York Deal, this arrangement was themselves drafted without feedback coming from Bitcoin’s specialised community none - more importantly - the best gauge involving user verse.

And while several Bitcoin corporations claim to are based on their customers, this can be - just as before - definitely not taken for granted by way of everyone.

“One debate I have to draw in order to, ” project capitalist Alyse Killeen complained, “is often the debate if businesses converse for their end users. I think this might be a argument you would solely see currently in this living space because it may be pretty well proven that corporations outside of this kind of space will not speak intended for users, nevertheless it’s a issue we have in our online community. Of course they do not. ”

NO2X If Splitting Bitcoin with Paris may very well be at all associated with SegWit2x’s neighborhood support rapid which, it has to be taken into account, is not automatically the case instructions the pitch will experience an constant battle for being widely established in Late.

Indeed, a number of signatories in the agreement aren't going to be so guaranteed about the very difficult fork nowadays: Bitwala in addition to F2Pool have got publicly insured out of the commitment. And, on a mining board in Venice, Bitfury CIO Alex Petrov ever so a little opened the door frame to likely withdrawing help as well, in the event that both the unique and the double chain be capable of survive.

Actually , it’s not only this contentious tough forks are viewed as a menace to be looked after against simply by Bitcoin’s technological community. The item goes beyond of which.

In the thoughts of Bitcoin developer Jimmy Song, at the end of the opening chat of the affair:

“What will not kill Bitcoin makes it more robust. And management meetings like this prove we’re improving at this. We are getting immunized to all these kinds of hard forks, and is considered creating a considerably better Bitcoin therefore, and here is a very good matter. We’re protecting against a majority of these attacks, plus figuring out strategies to mitigate all these threats. ”

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