#i have been working on this for the past two days this is why like zero other posts have been rb'd

[leahwllmsn]

here, always

alexia putellas x reader

a/n: a bit late but happy halloween :0

Your routine was the same. You would wake up, get ready, and get to work. This time, you woke up with a headache and the claims from your friends that you had been missing for a month.

You woke up with a headache. That was the first thing you noticed. That, and the blaring ray of sunlight from the window. You must've forgotten to close the blinds last night.

When you sat up, the headache became even worse and you squeezed your eyes shut in pain. You placed your feet on the floor and slowly got up. You tried your best to ignore the pounding in your head as you made your way into the kitchen. 

Passing by the clock in the living room, you saw that it was half past eight, which is great, because your work starts at eight. On the dot. 

You stepped in the kitchen and began to open each drawer, hoping you'd spot the painkillers–you forgot which drawer they were in. You let out a sigh when you finally spot them, taking one and drinking it without the help of water. You knew the relief wouldn’t be instant, but still, you were annoyed when the headache didn't seem to lessen.

You took a deep breath and got ready for work. It was going to be a long day ahead.

—

You got off the train at your stop, walking the route that you knew by heart.

Up the stairs. Turn left. Right. Pass a coffee shop.

Left. Go straight. Pass by a florist—

A florist.

The smell of the fresh flowers made your heart skip a beat, because it reminded you of Alexia. The colourful array of flowers made you think of her and her gorgeous smile. You decided to get her flowers. You knew how happy it made her every time.

You bought a bouquet of roses. Simple, but it was perfect for Alexia. She had always talked about how if she were to be a flower, she'd be roses, and you wholeheartedly agree. Alexia had grace and joy like pink roses. Her passion in everything she did: orange roses. And despite being so passionate, she had an innocence to her that made her seem oh so sweet–white roses. Lastly, red roses, to represent your love for her.

You smiled to yourself, one hand holding Alexia's flowers, and the other in your pocket. You had a feeling it was going to be a good day.

—

You opened the door to an empty office. There were four desks and two doors, one that led to the head physio’s office and the other that went to the pantry.

As you put your bag on your desk, you heard laughter from behind the door. Your colleagues must be having breakfast.

You walked to the pantry and you were met with some of your friends. However, their reaction wasn't the usual. They stopped whatever they were doing, hands midair, mouth agape. They looked ...confused? Shocked, even. It was like they were seeing a ghost. Even Alexia wasn’t giving you her usual ear-splitting grin at the sight of you. You weren't sure why.

"Hi, Ale, these are for you." You gave her the bouquet of roses you bought earlier.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she got up, slowly outstretching her hands and taking the flowers. "Y/N..." she whispered. "These are lovely. Thank you."

You smiled, satisfied. Anything for Alexia. You could sense that she was about to say something else, so you stayed silent, waiting for her to go on.

"Mi amor…" she started. It seemed like she had trouble expressing what she wanted to say.

Ingrid seemed to sense the same thing, as she went up and stood next to Alexia. She then said something unfathomable, you thought you heard wrong. "You've been gone for a month."

"What?"

"We didn't know where you were." Alexia spoke up, softly as if she was scared that if she spoke too loud, it might make you disappear again. Which was insane, because you hadn’t gone anywhere.

You had been right here all along. Right?

"No... that doesn't make sense. I was with you just last night, Ale."

Alexia opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. She was at a loss for words. So were you.

Ingrid cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brows. "What date was it yesterday? Do you remember?"

"October 31."

"Well," Mapi joined in on the conversation, scratching her head. "You're right, but you weren't here, Y/N."

You gaped at her, "What do you mean I wasn't here? I was. Right, Alexia? Tell her."

But Alexia just stood there, not saying anything.

"Baby, please." you pleaded.

You looked at them and they were looking wistfully at you, as if you really had gone missing and this was the first time they were seeing you in a month. But that didn’t make sense.

"Amor," Alexia walked closer to you, touching your forearms. Her touch was so light and soft, always the same as you remembered. "I wasn't with you last night."

"When was the last time you saw me?" You directed your question at your friends.

"One month ago," Ingrid answered.

"That's not possible." It really wasn't. "I... I have no memory of going anywhere for a month."

"We were really worried," Alexia sighed, walking closer to you. You knew for a fact that you hadn't disappeared, but why do you have this feeling of… of longing and yearning for her deep in your heart?

"We searched everywhere," Mapi continued. "We couldn't find you."

"I've been right here all along! I don't know what else to tell you guys." You couldn't believe them. It was hard to accept the fact that you disappeared, because you didn't.

"What was the last thing you remembered?" 

You looked at her, your sweet Alexia. Alexia whose existence brought so much warmth to your life. You wouldn't know what to do if the roles were reversed and she was the one who ‘disappeared’. You didn't think you could take it.

"I had dinner with you, at that Italian place you liked," you answered, taking her hand in yours and holding it tightly. "You dropped me off at home because you were going to stay with Alba for the night... I received a text goodnight from you, then I replied and went to bed."

Alexia gave a grim smile, "That was a month ago, amor. And you didn't text me back."

"No... no that was last night." You were getting incredibly frustrated.

Mapi seemed to notice your frustration as she cleared her throat, "I think we should leave Y/N so she can process all this."

What? I didn't think I wanted to be alone at a time like this.

They all nodded and were about to leave the room when I grabbed Alexia's arm, "Can you stay with me?"

Alexia smiled, "Of course."

Ingrid and Mapi gave you a reassuring smile and went to leave the room. Then, it was just you and Alexia. She grabbed your hand and you sat down, your hands interlocking perfectly on the table.

"My love," she started. "I know this is hard, but you have to learn to accept things."

You raised your eyebrow at her, "What do you mean? I don’t get it, Ale. My head’s been killing me all morning."

She shrugged. "Just... trust us."

"I don't understand. Is this about my disappearance?"

She smiled… almost sadly? "In a way."

"So I really did disappear?"

She nodded. "You did."

"Where did I go?"

She looked at me and chuckled, "I think you should be asking yourself this question, not me."

You were still confused about this whole thing. It was like your world had turned upside down. "But... how? Why?"

She shrugged again, "I wish I knew. We spent a long time searching for you. You were gone."

Were you experiencing a severe memory loss? Was that it? Was that the reason you couldn't remember anything?

You doubted it, though. You remember what date it was yesterday, and you weren’t in the hospital. Everything was normal.

Everything seemed normal... Until this talk with Alexia. Something was up. Her words were vague... as if it had a hidden meaning. You didn't like it.

As you were about to tell Alexia that none of this felt real, you saw something outside the window. It was... a bird? A black bird. You didn't think it meant anything, even though it felt odd to you.

You let out a big sigh. This wasn't how you imagined your day to go at all. You didn't have the energy to do anything else, but you needed to look for clues as to why this whole thing was happening.

So you got up and left for your desk. Everything seemed normal.

Just like how it was yesterday. Not one month ago.

You sighed, it still didn't make sense. You looked around the room, your co-workers were on their respective desks, typing away on their computers.

Weird.

They hadn’t mentioned anything to you. It was as if your disappearance wasn't a big deal. Shouldn't it be a big deal if your colleague went missing? 

"Hey," you whispered to the girl sitting next to you. Surprisingly, it was Ingrid. Why was she even on the computer? "What are you doing?"

Ingrid turned her head towards you, "I'm doing the weekly report."

You scratched your head. “Why aren’t you on the field? You’re not a physio, you shouldn’t be here.” 

Ingrid simply shrugged and the confusion must be written across your face because she scooted her chair to be closer to you. "Is everything ok?" 

"I don't know, I feel weird,” you decided to be honest. "Like something is off."

And even though Ingrid was smiling, her face looked sad. Why was the atmosphere so sorrowful somehow?

"Well... Maybe you should figure it out."

"Figure what?"

"Figure it out," Ingrid replied like it was obvious. "I know you remember."

"I don't."

"You do. Think, Y/N."

You were about to question her further when your hand brushed the mouse of your computer, causing your computer to light up. The background was a picture of you and Alexia. You realised it was taken at that Italian restaurant that night. Yesterday. Or, one month ago?

As you squinted at the picture, you saw that you had a ring on your left hand—

Wait.

A ring. Alexia gave you that ring.

You looked at your hand now and the ring wasn't there.

A ring... You had that because…

Oh my God.

You stood up suddenly, because you realised that Alexia proposed to you that night. And you said yes. You did. Then you took this picture.

But where was your ring now?

"I'm gonna head home for a bit."

Everyone lifted their heads up and looked at you questioningly. Alexia spoke up, you didn’t even realise she was still in the room. "Are you okay, amor?"

You smiled, walked over to her side and kissed her cheek. "Yeah, I just need to look for something."

"Okay, we'll see you later then."

"See you."

And with that you left.

–

Once you opened the door to your apartment, you stood for a good minute, trying to take it all in. You looked around, attempting to see if something was different. You didn't notice it at first, but the couch in your living room was blue. Blue. You would never choose that colour for a couch. That was weird.

You sat down and faced the TV. The couch was the same as it had always been, just a different colour. You didn't know what was going on but you swore the couch wasn’t blue yesterday.

You turned to the left, where a small table resided beside the couch. It had a framed picture of Alexia that you took one summer. That was the same.

You got up, going forward to the TV and looked around the shelves. Everything was the same. It was all the same—

Until you saw it. 

You caught a glimpse of something colourful on the kitchen island. It was a vase full of flowers. They were definitely not there this morning. Did someone break into your home? That seemed to be a plausible explanation. But with the way your day was going, anything seemed possible.

You looked at the flowers and there was a note attached to it.

Y/N,

We're always here for you. Please don't forget.

- Ingrid & Mapi

That was... odd.

There was no way they sent that this morning? They did have the keys to your apartment... but they were at the training grounds this morning with you. There was no way they gave the keys to the delivery guy.

You thought about calling Ingrid or Mapi to ask about the flowers, but you decided against it. You should focus on your task in finding your engagement ring.

You left the kitchen and went to your bedroom.

Everything was still the same there. Your bed was in the middle of the room, with a nightstand next to it that had a lamp and framed picture of you and Alexia. 

You opened the drawer of your nightstand but there was nothing except for a pink post-it. 

hi :-)

I love you

meet me at our usual Italian place at 6?

It was scribbled in Alexia’s neat handwriting. Your heart swelled remembering she left you this note along with fresh lilies–your favourite flowers. 

Yesterday.

Or was it a month ago? You didn’t know if you should trust your memory or your friends’.

You decided to go look in the walk-in closet. You walked inside and looked around, deciding to go to the left side, searching through your jewellery drawer. If anything, a ring should be there right?

But all you found were a bunch of rings you collected over time, not the ring Alexia proposed to you with.

You turned to the opposite side and you saw the section that was usually filled with Alexia’s hoodies was empty. This wasn’t possible, because it wasn’t like this yesterday.

Before Alexia moved in, she would usually spend a night or two and she would leave behind a hoodie. She did that often enough that you could fill up a space in the closet just for her hoodies. When she moved in, she didn’t have any hoodies left from her place because it was already all at your apartment.

But none of them were here anymore.

Suddenly, a shiver went up your spine and an odd feeling settled at the pit of your stomach. It was as if… you could remember why that rack was empty now… but it was like your brain didn’t want you to remember and you ended up with a blank memory.

You tried to shrug it off, but it was futile. The feeling stayed there, making you uncomfortable even in your own home. You decided to call Alexia. Talking to her always made you feel better.

As always, she picked up on the first ring. “Hola, amor.”

“Hi, Ale.”

“Are you okay?”

“Well, considering all the things that have happened so far and it’s not even noon, not really.”

“I’m sorry, I know this must be confusing for you.”

“But I feel better now that I get to hear your voice.”

“Always the charming one, aren’t you?”

“It’s a fact. Even with all this nonsense that’s happening, I still have you, so I’m all good.”

“About that…”

“What?”

“I love you, amor. I always will. I want you to know that.”

“I do. Of course I do know that, Ale.”

“Even if I’m not here, I still want you to be okay.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hypothetically speaking.”

“Was it really?”

“Why did you call me again?”

“Are you changing the subject?”

“No...”

“Don’t change the subject. What did you mean by that?”

“Y/N…”

“Everyone has been speaking as if their words contain a double meaning and it’s frustrating. Just tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“About this whole thing! I don’t know what else to do, Alexia. I tried looking for my engagement ring but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Just tell me what you know about why this is happening to me… Why is there a one month gap in my memory?”

“I’m not here.”

“What?”

“I’m not here, Y/N.”

“Alexia, what the hell are you talking about?”

“That night, the 31st of October. It really was one month ago. It wasn’t yesterday.”

“Are you saying I have amnesia?”

“No. I’m saying that you have to remember.”

“I can’t! God, if I could, I wouldn’t be stressed out like this!”

“I’ll help you. What time did we meet?”

“Six.”

“See, you remember.”

“Ale, I don’t see your point here. Of course I remember that night. It was yesterday.”

“Bear with me. What did we eat that night?”

“Italian.”

“Yup. We shared a pan of pizza—the one with pepperoni, my favourite.”

“I know.”

“What did I do that night?”

“Seriously? I don’t know why you’re asking all this.”

“I told you, to help you remember. This is the last one, I promise. What did I do that night?”

“You proposed.”

“I did. …It was the happiest moment of my life, you know? You, saying yes. I was nervous the whole night and I had this whole speech planned. Then you came and you looked so, so beautiful. Mi vida. You’d think that with all the years we spent together, I’d get used to how stunning you are.”

“Alexia…”

“I think I’ve always known that you would say yes if I proposed. You were never really subtle with your hints. But still, I was nervous. God, I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. When it was time to do it, the speech that I had been rehearsing in my head? It just flew out of the window. I was a stuttering mess and my words were all over the place. Yet, you still said yes.”

“Of course I did. I love you, Ale.”

“And I love you too. Always. You chose to be with me for the rest of my life, but things never turn out the way we want them to be, huh?”

“Alexia… You’re scaring me.”

“You’re going to remember now, and when you do, make the choice that you think is right, okay? I can’t make that choice for you, you have to decide on your own. Whatever it is that you’re going to choose, just know that I’ll always be there for you.”

—

31 October 2023

19:58

“Y/N L/N,” Alexia held your hand on the table, staring into your eyes. “I want to spend forever with you.”

Wait. Was she…?

“I can’t remember my speech,” she gave a nervous laugh. “It was a good one, I swear. But I guess I have to improvise now.”

You looked at her expectantly, your heart racing at the possibility of what she was about to do.

“You’re my soulmate, Y/N. I don’t… I don’t want anyone else but you. You’re it for me. You make me laugh, you make me cry sometimes,” she gave a lighthearted laugh and you rolled your eyes at her, a tear escaping to your cheek. “You make me so happy. I’m so crazy for you.”

She squeezed your hand and reached into the pocket of her blazer. She pulled out a black box and you gasped.

Oh my god.

She opened up the box and it revealed a ring inside. The ring was simple, just how you liked it. It was a silver band and a round diamond was placed on the centre.

You looked at her, back at the ring, and back at her—not quite believing it yet.

“Y/N,” Alexia continued. “I-I promise to love you with everything in me until my dying breath. I will love you the way you deserve to be loved—fearlessly, passionately and gently all at once.”

“Alexia…” you looked at her, tears freely falling down your face now. “If this is you improvising, I don’t know if I can handle your actual speech.”

She laughed and gave you a bashful smile. “Will you marry me? I’m proposing, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

You smiled at her, a huge ear-splitting grin.  “Of course I will, Alexia. You’re the love of my life.”

Alexia looked at you with wide eyes, as if she was still trying to process your words.

“Aren’t you supposed to put the finger on my ring now?”

Alexia wiped a tear that escaped her eye and laughed. “Yeah. Yeah. I just—you really… You said ‘yes’ right?”

You leaned forward and captured her lips in yours. “I did, you dummy. It will always be ‘yes’.”

—

ale: I love you

y/n: I love you too, so much

y/n: drive safe, okay? text me when you get there

ale: will do

—

“It never came.”

“You remember now?”

“Your text… it never came. I spent hours waiting for your text, and I was dumb enough to just sit there and do nothing, when I knew it would only take you ten minutes to get to Alba’s.”

“It’s not your fault. It never was.”

“But… but you’re here. On the phone with me. I can hear your voice, Alexia.”

“I’m here, but I’m not really here.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You can either stay here with me or leave. That’s the choice you have to make.”

“I don’t understand… What do you mean?”

“Just two simple choices, baby. Stay here with me or leave.”

“If I leave here, where would I go?”

“You know the answer to that. You’re smart.”

…

“So what’s your choice?”

“…I’m staying.”

“You’re staying?”

“I am. I’ll go wherever you are, Alexia, you know that.”

“I know… but I thought that…”

“I know you said that you’ll always be there for me for whichever choice I make, but why do I have a feeling that won’t be the case if I choose to leave?”

“Well, I could mean it in a metaphorical sense.”

“I don’t want metaphors, I want you. Always. I thought you knew that when you proposed to me.”

“Mi amor… I love you.”

“And I love you. Why does it seem like you don’t want me to stay?”

“Because… I know that it’s not the best choice for you.”

“I know what’s best for me. And that’s to stay. It’s final, I’m staying.”

“Okay. Meet me at our usual spot in the park in 20 minutes?”

“I’ll be there.”

—

1 November 2024

21:47

“Babe? Visiting hour is almost over.”

Ingrid turns to the source of the voice and sees her fiancé standing at the doorway. She nods and gives a melancholic smile. “We do this all the time, but it never gets easier. Why is that? Leaving her here, I mean.”

Mapi gulps and takes a step forward to Ingrid and to… you.

“I don’t want to leave her here, María.” Ingrid sighs.

Once Mapi is at the foot of the bed, she braces herself and looks up—towards the girl occupying the bed.

Mapi has always stared at anything but you. It’s been a year since that night, since everything fell apart, and Mapi misses you a lot.

You’re staring back at her, but she knows that you’re not seeing her. 

That’s mostly why she hates looking at you. You, sick, pale-faced, and all alone in this hospital bed. Just a reminder that you’re not here with her anymore.

Because although you’re still here physically, every time Mapi stares into your eyes, it just shows that your mind is not—your blank stare confirming that you’re no longer emotionally present. 

Mapi tears her eyes away from you and blinks back her tears. Ingrid’s right, it never gets easier.

Mapi clears her throat. “We should go.”

Ingrid looks at Mapi sympathetically. She knows how tough it is to lose not one, but two of their closest friends all in a snap. 

Ingrid turns to you and stands up. She leans forward and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re going to go now, okay love?”

As always, there’s no answer.

“We’ll be back next month, don’t worry.”

Ingrid gulps and tries her hardest to not let out a cry right then and there, but the shakiness in her voice betrayed her. “We hope you’re better the next time we see you… Mapi and I are getting married soon, I just want you there next to us.”

“Ingrid…” Mapi walks over and stands next to Ingrid, squeezing her hand.

Ingrid wipes a tear that manages to escape. “I’m fine. And Y/N will be fine too.”

“She will.” Mapi whispers, looking at you, her voice wavering slightly. Mapi doesn’t know whether to believe her own words or not.

Mapi takes your hand with her free one and squeezes it, silently hoping that you can feel her touch, wherever you are, and that you can hear Mapi's silent plea for you to come back to reality.

Ingrid leans down and kisses your forehead. “Sleep tight, Y/N. We miss you so much.”

Ingrid steps back to give Mapi a chance to say her goodbyes. 

Mapi holds the railing on the side of the bed and squats down so she is speaking directly to your ears. “Y/N… I know how much you love her, and I can’t imagine how painful it is that she’s not here anymore, but you have to come back to us. You have to…” Mapi trails off, her chest heaving with unshed sobs.

Ingrid places her hands on Mapi’s shoulder, slowly bringing her up. “Hey, come here,” Ingrid whispers, wrapping her fiancé in her embrace. “We’ll try again next month.”

Mapi sighs against Ingrid’s shoulder. “I know it must be tough, losing the love of your life—I don’t even want to imagine losing you,” Mapi leans back and takes another deep breath. “But it’s been too long. Where is she? I just want our friend back.”

Ingrid smiles regretfully. “We can’t force her to snap out of it if she doesn’t want to, my love.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We’ll be patient and wait for her here.”

“What if she won’t…” Mapi whispers, as if she’s afraid to speak those words. “What if she won't come back?”

“Then we let her go,” Ingrid places both her hands on Mapi’s cheeks, caressing them softly. “If that’s her choice, then we have to respect it.”

Mapi nods slowly. “I know. I just don’t know why that’s the choice she’s making.”

Ingrid shrugs. “Maybe she sees Alexia, wherever she is.”

“You think so?”

“Who knows?” Ingrid questions back.

Mapi lifts her hands up and places them over Ingrid’s. “I hope she’s happy then.”

“If Alexia is there, she’ll be happy.” Ingrid smiles wistfully. She turns her hands around, intertwining them with Mapi’s. “C’mon, let’s go. Don’t want to miss our flight.”

Mapi lets Ingrid drag her out of the room. She pauses just at the doorway and turns around to look at you one more time. You have your eyes closed now and Mapi can swear that she sees a faint smile gracing your lips. 

Mapi can’t help but smile back. Maybe you’re with Alexia after all.

��

You arrived at the park exactly 20 minutes after your phone call with Alexia. She was there, at your bench, looking out at the lake.

You walked towards her and sat down, your shoulders brushing.

“You stayed.” Alexia stated.

You looked at her. Your beautiful Alexia. Her eyebrows were furrowed slightly, her lips pursed. “I did.”

She sighed and turned to look at you, staring at you with those eyes. “You have to be the one who decides, not me.”

You looked at her questioningly.

She turned back towards the lake. “There’s nothing I can do.”

You were confused. “Are you not happy with my decision?”

“I’m always happy to be with you, amor. You’re the love of my life.”

“Then?”

“You can’t blame me for being sad too, because of what the implications of you being here means.”

What was she even talking about?

Before you got the chance to ask, Alexia continued, “Let’s enjoy this moment,” she grabbed your hand in hers, stroking it softly. “It may be selfish of me, but I’m glad I get to spend another day with you.”

“What?” you still couldn't understand her. Alexia was being so vague. “I’m here, of course you get to spend the day with me. We have tomorrow, too. And the day after that. And so on. Until forever.”

“Sure, baby.” She smiled, although still not looking at me. “Until forever.”

You smiled back at her and placed a soft peck on her cheek, laying your head on her shoulder as you stared into the lake with her. It was a nice day, the sun was shining, although not too brightly—just perfect. The wind was a light breeze and you scooted closer to Alexia every time it blew.

“I love you, Ale.” you whispered. You really did and you wanted her to know it. If you could let her know every second of every day, you would.

The reply didn’t come in an instant, but it eventually did. “I love you, too.” You could feel her placing a kiss on the top of your head. “And it’s only because I love you that I hope you choose differently next time.”

—

a/n: let me know your thoughts!👻

[starryjake]

medicine | s.j

in which jake is sick and the only thing that will make him feel better is a taste of you.

pairing: jake x fem!reader

includes: face sitting, oral sex, jake being sick, squirting, cumming untouched, cumming in pants, face riding (lmk if i missed anything).

jake was game to eat you out at any time.

you’re exhausted after a long day of work or classes? jake was there already kneeling in front of the bed, awaiting your pussy.

it’s the middle of the night and you’re tucked into bed, fast asleep? jake can’t help the craving he gets and just has to have one lick of your addictive taste before he’s able to fall asleep.

you step foot out of the shower and within less than a minute, jake is laying you down in the tub and devouring your pussy.

the point was, it didn’t matter the occasion. jake just always wanted to eat you out.

that was never anything you felt the need to complain about. you knew people who’s boyfriends refused to go down on them and you couldn’t believe it. you and your boyfriend had just about the opposite of that problem.

but since jake was always game, that meant he wanted it even when he was in not-so-great situations himself.

“no, jake,” you said assertively, shaking your head.

“please,” he begged, looking at you with those pleasing puppy-dog eyes.

at any other given time, you would’ve said yes. just like jake always wanted to eat you out, you always wanted to get eaten out. you two were a match made in heaven.

however, jake had picked up some virus going around campus and had been completely knocked out by it. he’d spent the past two days in bed sleeping, trying to rid his body of the sickness.

you’d been his faithful nurse, staying close by in case he needed anything. you made him soup, brought him medicine every few hours, monitored his temperature, and gave him everything else he could’ve possibly needed. except, that is, the one thing he actually wanted.

“why not?” he practically whimpered. “it’s been days. i deserve it. i’ll feel so much better.”

his desperation almost made you laugh. he wanted you so badly and if he wasn’t as sick as he was, you would’ve given it to him, but he just wasn’t well enough. he was still sniffly, still weak, still running a fever, and just simply was not in the right position to be giving you head.

“you deserve it?” you couldn’t hold back the laugh this time.

“i do!” he whined, not finding the situation funny whatsoever. “i’ve been stuck in this bed for days feeling like shit and all i want is to have my face buried between your legs. just a taste, baby, please.”

you shook your head.

“just a taste is gonna turn into you eating me out for hours,” you said.

“and what’s wrong with that?” he pouted.

“you need to be sleeping and getting better,” you told him.

he leaned forward in your shared bed to get closer to you, who was sitting at the foot of the bed. he placed his hand on your thigh, tilting his head to the side.

“your pussy will make me better,” he said softly.

you placed your hand on top of his, looking into his pleading eyes. he was still so handsome, even as sick as he was. you were tempted, you had to admit.

“i don’t know, jake,” you said.

“please, baby,” he begged you, practically on the verge of tears. “i’ll make you feel so good, i promise.”

his pink cheeks, his swollen lips, his teary eyes, you just couldn’t say no to him.

plus, he said it would help him feel better, so how could you argue with that?

“fine,” you gave in. “lay back.”

jake bit his lip to prevent himself from smiling in victory. his eyes lit up when you agreed and he immediately complied, lying back down on his back.

you crawled up the bed until you made it to his abdomen. you planted your knees on either side of him and hovered over his body, second guessing whether you should actually do this.

“are you sure, jake?” you sighed.

jake’s face flashed with terror at the mere idea of you changing your mind. his eyebrows furrowed together in worry.

“i’m sure,” he insisted. “please, i need it. it’s my medicine.”

for whatever reason, his words turned you on. calling your pussy his medicine was all you needed to hear to shuffle your shorts down your legs, leaving you bare and exposed to him.

he licked his lips and watched you closely as you crawled up the remainder of his body until landing by his face. you hovered above him, sighing at the sight of him underneath you.

“sit,” he urged, beyond eager to get his tongue inside you.

“stop me if you can’t breathe,” you warned, knowing his nose was stuffed and his mouth would be occupied.

he didn’t say anything, just grabbed your hips and pulled you down so you were actually sitting on his face.

a surprised moan escaped your lips as jake immediately started licking your folds, gathering all your wetness on his tongue. he moaned, muffled, but the vibrations from it were extremely pleasurable.

you dug your hand in his mop of messy hair, legs already starting to tremble as he swiped his tongue up and down the length of your pussy.

you looked down and you could just tell he was in his most happy place. his eyes were closed, savoring the sensation of licking your pussy and tasting your sweet arousal. he was almost moaning as much as you were, certainly enjoying it as much as you, if not more.

you turned your head back and weren’t surprised at all by the sight of his hips thrusting up into the air, desperate for any kind of friction. his neglected cock was straining against his pajama pants, but you knew he wasn’t expecting you to touch him. he just wanted to eat you out, and that was enough for him.

“tastes so fucking good,” he said through an exhale, taking a second to catch his breath.

“are you doing okay?” you asked him, raising yourself off his face.

“more than okay,” he assured you. “i could do this all fucking night.”

he grabbed your hips and pulled you back down onto his face, going straight for your clit this time. he wrapped his lips around the bud and sucked on it softly, swallowing your taste.

you yelped, your legs clenching around his face.

“oh fuck, jake,” you cried out, your grip tightening in his hair.

he released his suction on your clit and went back to gliding his tongue up and down your pussy. he stopped at your hole and delved his tongue inside, letting out a broken moan at your tight walls around his tongue.

you found yourself slightly grinding on his face, subconsciously trying to rub your clit against his nose while he thrusted his tongue in and out of your hole. you knew he didn’t care. in fact, he loved it. he loved you humping his face in an attempt to increase the pleasure.

you sat up again, removing your pussy from his face. a string of your arousal mixed with his spit kept your pussy connected to his lips.

he looked up at you in confusion and even a slight hint of frustration as to why you just took away his treat—your pussy.

“why?” he asked urgently.

“your forehead is so warm, jakey,” you said, having brushed against it while you were tugging his hair.

it’d brought you back down to earth, reminding you that you were riding the face of someone who was not entirely up to health.

“i’m fine,” he said, annoyed. “i feel so good, please just come back. let me have it again.”

he was so, so desperate. you knew you should get off and let him get some sleep, but he wanted it so bad. so, you lowered your hips back down to his face and allowed him to lick up your pussy lips.

“fuck, thank you,” he moaned out, relieved to have your warm pussy back on his face. “i feel good, i promise. just need your pussy on me, baby, that’s all.”

you sighed in pleasure, leaning back slightly and starting to grind again. jake closed his eyes again, lapping and slurping at your pussy.

your stomach was warm and the knot would unravel soon, you were sure of it. he was so good at eating you out, you never lasted long.

“harder,” he urged, pulling you down on his face even more. “ride my face harder, baby.”

you whimpered, humping his face harder. your puffy clit hit the tip of his nose every time you fucked your hips forward. jake fucking loved it. he loved inhaling through his nose and smelling your sweet pussy, having it right there in front of him.

he loved you sitting on his face just as much as he loved laying on his stomach and eating you out regularly. he loved when you would just lose all control and ride his face like you were riding his cock. he loved to be used.

“fuck, jake,” you sobbed out. “i’m gonna fucking cum, oh my—don’t stop, please don’t stop. fuck, i’m cumming!”

you squealed as your orgasm washed over you. your legs tightened around his face and his tongue quickened, eating your pussy through your orgasm and lapping at the excess wetness dripping out of you. you fucked his face, letting all your weight sit on him because your brain was in too much of a fog to care.

“fuck,” jake moaned against you. “you’re so fucking hot, angel. wait! don’t get up.”

he gripped your waist, stopping you from climbing off his face.

“why? you should sleep now,” you said, catching your breath from your orgasm.

he shook his head, pulling you back down.

“need more,” he mumbled, lightly circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, going gentle as to not overstimulate you.

“no, jake,” you declined, however made no attempt to stop him.

“shh,” he shushed you, disregarding your words. “please, baby. i just need a little more and then i’ll be all better, promise.”

you whimpered as he rubbed his wet tongue on your drenched folds. he wrapped his arms around your thighs, basically keeping you trapped on his face.

“jake,” you whispered, pushing some stray strands of hair out of his forehead.

“so good,” he mumbled, flattening his tongue. “ride my tongue, baby. c’mon, i know you can do it.”

you started grinding back and forth on his tongue, head falling back at the sensation. his tongue was so warm and wet and felt euphoric as he laid it out for you to use, to rub your spent pussy on.

if jake was paying attention to his own cock, he’d realize how much pain he was in. he was so, so hard, and needed to be touched desperately. but he couldn’t. he just wanted your pussy and nothing else, not even oxygen.

“fuck,” you moaned. “feels so fucking good, jake. i think i’m gonna cum a lot.”

you didn’t know what you were saying. you were so fucked out and jake was too pussy drunk and sick to comprehend your words either.

you knew what you meant, but he didn’t.

you rubbed your pussy all over his face, getting your wetness all over his nose, his cheeks, and his chin. he started licking you again, moaning nonstop.

“i’m gonna—mm, jake! i’m cumming!”

it hit you a lot faster this time, so fast that you couldn’t even give him a proper warning.

you also couldn’t warn him as a stream of wetness shoots out of you. you were squirting all over his face and that was what did it for jake. that was what had him humping his hips up into the air one more time and cumming untouched in his pants.

he moaned, feeling sweaty and lightheaded as he felt your wetness all over his face. briefly, he thought he might pass out. even feeling so weak, he still ate you out through your second orgasm, drinking all the fluid you’d just released and moaning from how delicious it was.

he hummed, babbling nonsense because he was so far gone. you pulled yourself off his face, your pussy twitching from over sensitivity.

“baby,” he mumbled.

“yeah?” you retorted.

“i came,” he told you.

you frowned, looking down at his pants and noticing the stain of cum seeping through the fabric.

“but…” you trailed off. “you weren’t even touching yourself.”

“i know,” he said. “i think i’m just…really sensitive when i’m sick. but guess what?”

“what?” you asked, already starting to pull his pants down to help clean up.

“i was right about your pussy being medicine,” he informed. “i feel completely better.”

you laugh, shaking your head in dismay.

“you’re such a weirdo.”

-

this is FILTH. what i wouldn’t give to sit on jake’s face man.

thanks for reading!

[pinkslipxox]

holla! i absolutly loveeee ur fic abt billie taking care of pregnant y/n. can u make a part 2 or a more detailed one?❤❤🥰 love ur stuff byeeeee

holis 🫶💕 ahhh thnx my love! Hope you like this one xx

——————————————————————————

Her eyes soft and warm, Billie can’t help but admire how your body has transformed to accommodate the child inside of you. Your hips have widened, your breasts have gotten larger, swollen with milk and your belly has grown to its expectant size. While Billie knows that you have welcomed these changes with open arms, she is aware that it hasn’t been easy for you— especially you’re due any day.

And Billie can hardly wait.

Billie watches on for a few moments as you stir your tea until she can’t resist staring any longer. She strides over and wraps her arms around you, her hands cradling your baby bump, resting her chin on your shoulder. There’s nothing that Billie loved more than putting her hands on your belly. She can’t ever resist, whether if you’re both laying down in bed at night or standing up, Billie always take advantage of every opportunity she has to touch your belly.

“Three more weeks,” she hums in content, kissing your cheek, as a blissful sigh escapes your lips.

“I know. I can’t wait. This baby better be cute,” you tease and Billie rolls her eyes playfully.

“I bet you twenty bucks that the kid is going to look like me,” Billie muses and you gasp dramatically.

“How dare you involve our child in gambling?” you chide, giggling. “I bet you fifty bucks if the kid look like me.”

Billie smirks. “Oh, you’re on, mama.”

These past few months have been the most exciting and nerve wracking time in your lives. Neither of you can hardly believe that soon a new chapter will be opening in your lives. If anything, Billie has never felt prouder. And she’s never been more in love with you.

Billie joins you at the dining table as you sip your tea, and keeps the conversation between the two of you light for your sake. You’ve become incredibly exhausted these last few weeks and Billie doesn’t blame you. At that, an idea comes to Billie’s head. She knows you absolutely love to relax in the bath, and she decides that running one could help you with the aches and pains you’ve been experiencing.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’ll be right back, okay?” Billie says softly and you smile.

“Okay,” you reply and with a kiss to your forehead, Billie gets up from the table and makes her way over to the bathroom.

She turns the faucet on and makes sure the water is at the right temperature before she gets to work. Soon, the bathroom smells of a lovely lavender scent and the tub is filled with bubbles. Billie quickly turns off the water and hurried over to get you. She coos at the sight of you laid on the couch on your side, your head propped up as your hand rubs your belly, humming softly. With a smile, Billie approaches you, her heart fluttering with excitement and anticipation.

“Come with me,” Billie beckons, outstretching her hand out to you, and you take it. Billie helps you to your feet and leads you to the bathroom.

You smirk playfully. “What do you have planned, O’Connell?”

“Why don’t you open the door and find out?” Billie purrs and you so do.

Billie beams proudly as a gasp escapes your lips. Seeing you so happy makes Billie feel that she’s doing something right. She’s made it her mission throughout the entire pregnancy to ensure that you’re taken care of without lifting a finger. While Billie hates to admit she sometimes goes overboard with the protectiveness and care, she can’t help sometimes feel like she isn’t doing enough to help you or at least relieve you from the discomfort you’ve endured for the past nine months. So whatever you might need or ask her, Billie is sure to be right at your disposal.

“Billie… you’re the sweetest. Thank you so much,” you gush and kiss her cheek.

Billie chuckles softly. “Anything for my loves.”

With your permission, Billie carefully undresses you, her gaze soft and loving as each article of clothing is removed from your body. She swears she’s in the presence of a goddess. It is because of you that her dream of having of a family of her own—with the woman she loves—is coming true, and she can’t thank you enough.

Billie wraps her arm around your waist securely and holds your hand tightly as she helps you step inside the tub and carefully sink down into the water. Once you are settled, Billie undresses herself, then steps in behind you and gently pulls you close to her chest so that you sit in between her legs. Her hands instinctively move down to your hips, smoothly, carefully, before cradling your baby bump again.

“I love you,” Billie whispers in your ear before kissing the soft skin there, her heart swelling with adoration and happiness as she feels the unborn baby move beneath her hand.

“I love you, too, Billie,” you murmur softly, resting your head on her shoulder, and Billie plants kisses down your neck and to your collarbone, just the way you like it.

There’s nothing Billie won’t do for you.

Or your precious baby.

[oldsoul007]

don’t dream it’s over

nicholas chavez x reader

summary: nicholas and reader are sworn enemies, what happens when they end up being counselors as the same summer camp…

I had been a camp counselor at Camp Pinewood for the past two summers, and of course Nicholas too, but we couldn't stand each other. Nicholas, with his pollos, easygoing charm some would say and knack for breaking rules, clashed constantly with my strict adherence to the camp's guidelines and my no-nonsense attitude. Our arguments were legendary among the campers and staff, often ending with one of us storming off in frustration, usually me.

When I got there the first day, few days before campers showed up, of course he was late with a smug look on his face. This summer, however, something was different. The camp director had paired us together to lead the same group of campers, hoping we combined strengths would create a balanced team. From the start, it was clear we would have to find a way to work together, despite our differences.

After trying to fight our camp director on putting us together, I finally gave up and went to get stuff for my cabin. I was taking my luggage out of my car when someone clears their throat. I roll my eyes guessing who it was. “Not even gonna say hi to me princess” “what did I tell you about calling me that” “mmm I think you like it.”

Once I grabbed all my stuff I continued walking toward my cabin. Nicholas following behind. “Do you need something.” I ask irritated. “Well I thought since we’ll be working together all summer we might as well get along.” I stop in my tracks to twist around and look at him. “You gotta be fucking with me” I almost laugh.

“You know, whatever, i guess I thought maybe you’d grow up for once” I rolled my eyes as he said that. Turning on my heel, walking toward my cabin. I still hear him behind me. “Why are you still following me” I groan.

“My cabins right here too, guess we’re neighbors.” He said closing the door to the cabin across from mine. Great now I have to hear him all summer nonstop.

At camp, the tension between me and Nicholas was palpable. As camp counselors, we were forced to work together, despite our mutual dislike. Every morning started with us exchanging curt nods and avoiding eye contact.

A typical day at camp involved organizing activities for the kids. Me and Nicholas had to coordinate everything from arts and crafts to outdoor games. Our disagreements were frequent, and the campers could sense the friction between us.

One day, we were assigned to lead a team-building exercise. As we explained the rules to the campers, our bickering became more intense. "You're doing it wrong," Nicholas snapped. "This isn't how it's supposed to go."

I shot back, "Maybe if you actually listened for once, you'd understand the plan."

The campers looked on, wide-eyed, as the two continued to argue. Eventually, one of the kids timidly suggested, "Maybe you guys could work together like you're asking us to?"

The comment hit home, and both me and Nicholas paused. We realized that our behavior was setting a poor example. Taking a deep breath, I said, "Okay, let's try to get through this without fighting."

Nicholas nodded, and we managed to put aside our differences for the rest of the activity. By the end of the day, we were both exhausted but felt a small sense of accomplishment. We had managed to work together, even if it was just for a short while.

As the sun set, Nicholas found me by the campfire. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier. We need to figure out a way to get along for the kids' sake."

I sighed, "Yeah, you're right. Let's try to make this work, at least for the rest of camp."

It wasn't a resolution, but it was a start. And as we sat by the fire, both of us couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, there was more to our animosity than we realized.

At the camp counselors' late-night party, the atmosphere was buzzing with laughter and music. Me and Nicholas arrived with our mutual friend Cooper, who was determined to get them to relax and have a good time. Despite our recent truce, the tension between me and Nicholas was still palpable.

As we mingled, Nicholas accidentally bumped into me, spilling his drink all over me. "Seriously, Nicholas?" I exclaimed, my frustration bubbling up once again.

"It was an accident, princess! You don't have to make such a big deal out of it," Nicholas retorted, his own irritation showing. The nickname pissing me off more.

Cooper, seeing the brewing argument, stepped in. "Hey, you two need to chill out. This party is supposed to be fun, not another battleground for you guys."

I sighed, trying to wipe the drink off my clothes. "It's just... we can't seem to go a day without fighting."

Cooper raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Maybe you two need to let off some steam together. How about you guys just hook up?" He said, half joking half not.

Nicholas looked at me, a reluctant smile forming. "You know what? That actually sounds like a good idea."

I hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Alright, you're such a dick. Fuck you" “You wish” he teases.

By the end of the night, the tension between me and Nicholas had raised significantly.

Our days were filled with activities and responsibilities, from leading nature hikes to organizing campfire sing-alongs. At first, our interactions were tense and filled with sarcastic remarks.

But as the days went by, they started to notice things about each other that they hadn't before. Nicholas saw how passionate y/n was about making sure the kids had a great time, and y/n couldn't help but admire Nicholas's ability to make everyone laugh and feel included.

One evening, after a particularly challenging day, we found ourselves alone by the lake. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the water. I was skipping stones, trying to unwind, when Nicholas approached me. "You know, you're not as bad as I thought," he said, breaking the silence. I looked up, surprised. "Coming from you, that's almost a compliment," I replied with a small smile.

We talked for hours, sharing stories and secrets we had never told anyone else. The more we talked, the more we realized how much we had in common. Our walls began to crumble, and the thin line between hate and love started to blur.

Over the past few days, something had shifted. we had been paired together for various activities, and slowly, I found myself warming up to Nicholas. I began to see a different side of him, one that was kind and considerate.

The next day, I was heading back to my cabin when I thought I heard Nicholas talking to someone. I paused, listening intently. My heart sank as I caught bits and pieces of the conversation, convinced he was revealing my secret. Hurt and betrayal washed over me.

When Nicholas noticed me standing there, he immediately saw the look on my face. "Y/n, what's wrong?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"I heard you," I said, my voice trembling. "I heard you telling someone something I told you in confidence."

Nicholas's eyes widened in shock. "Y/n, I would never do that. I promise you, I didn't say anything to anyone."

But I couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal. "Why should I trust you?" I asked, my voice cold and distant. "You’ve always been against me."

Nicholas stepped closer, his voice earnest. "Because I care about you, y/n. I would never betray your trust. Please, believe me."

But I shook my head, anger and hurt clouding my judgment. "I can't believe I ever thought you could change," I said, turning away from him.

Nicholas watched her walk away, his heart heavy with regret. He knew he hadn't betrayed her, but convincing her of that now seemed impossible.

As I walked back to the cabin alone, I felt a familiar bitterness returning, the fragile trust we had built shattered in an instant. Ending up right back where we started at the beginning of the summer.

As captains for the camp games, we were supposed to lead by example, but our bickering overshadowed everything else. The campers, fed up with the tension, devised a plan to get us lost in the woods together, hoping it would force us to work things out.

It was Nicholas’s fault we ended up lost. He had insisted on taking a shortcut during one of our competitive scavenger hunts. I had argued against it, but Nicholas was stubborn. "Trust me, I know this forest like the back of my hand," he had said confidently.

But as the sun began to set and the familiar trails disappeared, it became clear that Nicholas had no idea where we were. "Great job, Captain," I muttered sarcastically, crossing my arms as we stood in the middle of nowhere.

Nicholas sighed, frustration evident on his face. "I thought this was the right way. Let's just keep moving; we’ll find our way back."

Hours passed, and the forest seemed to grow denser. We argued about which direction to take, each step leading us further into unfamiliar territory. The campers' plan was not working.

Our bickering is a constant source of tension. Our friends often joked about our rivalry, but neither of us found it amusing. One evening, the argument between us reached a boiling point in the middle of the woods. Where Nicholas got us lost during the camp games.

"You never listen to me!" I shouted, my frustration evident. Nicholas, equally exasperated, fired back, "And you always think you're right!"

My face flushed with anger, and in the heat of the moment, I blurted out, "I hate you, Nicholas!"

Nicholas stood there, stunned. The words hit him harder than any insult ever had. Instead of retaliating, he felt a deep pain in his chest. “Nice one” he says pushing past me continuing walking into the woods. I’m surprised, he usually would reply with some snarky comeback.

Then I realized I never actually said that to him before. Confused I follow after him. “Nic, wait why are you so mad?” He took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. "do you really mean that?" he asked quietly.

My anger began to waver as I saw the hurt in his eyes. I had expected him to yell back, not to look so wounded. "I... I don't know," I stammered, suddenly unsure of myself.

The tension between us was palpable, each word laced with frustration and unspoken emotions. I finally came back to reality remembering that’s he’s an asshole.

"Yes I do, I hate you, Nicholas! You drive me fucking insane!" I shouted, my eyes blazing with anger.

Nicholas took a step closer, his jaw clenched. "You think I don't feel the same way? You're always in my head, y/n. I can't get you out, and it's maddening!"

Our faces were inches apart, the intensity of our emotions creating a charged atmosphere. Suddenly, without thinking, Nicholas grabbed me and pulled me into a fierce kiss. All the anger, frustration, and hidden feelings poured into that moment, our lips crashing together in a passionate embrace.

My hands found their way to Nicholas's hair, pulling him closer as I kissed him back with equal fervor. The world around us seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of us, lost in the intensity of our connection.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us breathless, our eyes locked. "I hate how much I want you," Nicholas whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

My heart pounded in my chest as I looked at him. "Me too," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But maybe we don't have to fight it anymore."

In that moment, everything changed. The walls we built between us came crashing down, leaving us vulnerable and open to the possibility of something more. The fight had revealed the truth we had both been hiding, and as we stood there, surrounded by trees, we realized that our relationship was about to change forever.

After many more minutes of wandering through the dense forest, me and Nicholas finally found our way out. The tension between us had been palpable throughout our ordeal, but now, as we emerged from the woods and saw my cabin in the distance, a sense of relief washed over us. Everyone seemed to have gone to bed after the games.

We hurried towards the cabin, our steps quickening as they got closer. Once inside, I closed the door behind them, and we both stood there, catching our breath. The adrenaline from our adventure still coursed through our veins.

Nicholas looked at me, his eyes intense. "We made it," he said softly, stepping closer to me.

I nodded, my heart racing for a different reason now. "Yeah, we did."

Without another word, Nicholas closed the distance between us, his lips capturing mine in a heated kiss. I responded eagerly, my hands tangling in his hair as I pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, filled with all the emotions we had been holding back.

Nicholas moved us towards the bed, never breaking the kiss. My hands roamed over Nicholas's back, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath his shirt. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me onto his lap as we continued to kiss passionately.

The cabin was filled with the sounds of our heavy breathing and the soft rustle of clothes as we lost ourselves in each other. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the connection we felt, the heat between us undeniable.

As we finally pulled back, both breathless and flushed, we looked into each other's eyes, knowing that this was just the beginning of something deeper.

[achilles-rage]

thirteen crows: epilogue

summary: some insight on how they treat you weeks, and months later.

word count: 1.8k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: i wasn’t gonna post an epilogue to this, but i sort of liked the idea of looking at their dynamic months later, so i decided to write this short little drabble-type thing. enjoy<3

warnings: stockholm syndrome(??), controlling behaviour, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

three weeks later

You leave your boss’s office with tears in your eyes, keeping your head down as you walk to the kitchen to catch your breath so no one can see the sadness written across your face. You were barely in his office for 10 minutes, and he wasn’t that upset with you, but you’ve never been good with confrontation.

He had pulled you into his office before you started your shift and showed you some reviews that he found online about the Thirteen Crows that day. There were two reviews with your name specifically added, ranting about how bad your service was and how rude you were to them.

Your boss wasn’t necessarily mad; he knows that you usually have no problems with customers, but he was still rightfully worried about the reviews.

You try to finish your shift with a smile; desperate to not receive any more negative reviews about your service, but it’s difficult. Either Eddie or Buck has been by your side for the last few weeks; ever since you found out who they really were, and while they make butterflies erupt in your tummy sometimes, they also scare the hell out of you, which doesn’t help your nerves.

They told you they wouldn’t hurt you, not if you follow the rules, and you want to believe that, but you feel on edge every time you’re with them. Which is most of the time. You’re afraid to do anything; afraid that something you see as harmless will send them into a rage.

You also know that there’s no escaping them either. You know why they’re with you all the time outside of work; they won’t let you leave them.

When Buck finally picks you up from your shift, you stay silent in his passenger seat, eyes focused on the passing scenery as his thumb rubs gentle circles on your exposed thigh. Buck can sense your unease; it’s different than usual. 

You tried to speak to Tara after your shift; she’s noticed the way you’ve shut down in the past few weeks, but you don’t talk to her. You don’t know how they find out, but they always know when you speak to anyone in a way that’s not just merely being friendly, and they do not like it.

“How was work, sweet girl?” he asks after a few minutes of silence. You blink a few times as you snap out of your daze, then look over at him, chewing on your lip. You don’t want to tell him about your boss and the reviews. God knows what he and Eddie would do. 

They’ve continued killing, although they haven’t told you anything about it. They monitor your screen time, and everything else you do, so you don’t know the exact details. You’ve heard people talking about it at work, though, and you’re sure it’s more of the people they’ve met through work that have “deserved it.”

“Good. Long night.” you speak in a quiet tone, shrugging. His eyes dart from the road to you for a second, inspecting your face. His eyes narrow, like he doesn’t quite believe you, but he doesn’t push any further. You’re thankful for this, because you really do like your boss, even though your conversation with him has you on edge.

When you get back to Buck’s apartment, he helps you get ready for bed, and then you’re off to sleep, but not before his head is between your thighs yet again, desperately chasing the taste of your release.

The next morning, Eddie comes to pick you up and takes you to your apartment to pick up some more of your things, then brings you to his house for dinner. He sits at the dinner table while you prepare dinner, and when he, you, Buck, and Christopher sit down to eat, his smile is wide. He loves seeing you like this; his little family, finally complete.

You spend the night at Eddie’s house, your back pulled firmly against his chest, and while you’re not completely relaxed, you sleep soundly. You know Eddie wouldn’t dare do something with Christopher home, and these kinds of nights are the most relaxing for you.

six months later

You gasp softly when someone runs into your shoulder and makes you drop the can you’re holding. You turn quickly and look up to the man that’s run into you, and he looks down with an apologetic smile, raising his shoulders slightly.

You scramble to pick up the can and put it into your cart as he murmurs an apology, but you shut him down immediately.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t looking.” you tell him, although you know that he’s the one that ran into you. You’re so used to immediately backing down that it’s become second nature.

His eyes glance down at the dented can in your cart, and he licks his lips before he speaks again.

“You really shouldn’t buy that one; it can make you sick.” he tells you, stepping a little closer and ducking his head to speak in a quieter voice. With the gleam in his eye and his smile, you’re pretty sure he’s trying to flirt, even though the actual words don’t seem especially flirty.

You give him a smile as you feel your cheeks heating up. Of course you know that already, but this interaction surprised you, and you barely had time to think about your actions.

“Right. Thanks.” you tell him, trying to keep your body language disinterested. You know how Buck and Eddie would see this, and you don’t want anything to happen to this handsome stranger because they felt unnecessarily threatened.

You also don’t want them to take away your outings. They finally rewarded you with unsupervised time outside of the house to run errands, and it took months to finally gain their trust. You don’t want to do anything to ruin it now.

“I’m Will, by the way.” he says, seeming not to get the hint. You give him a tight-lipped smile and grip the handle of your cart, beginning to walk further down the aisle.

“I should really go.” you tell him, and while his brows furrow in confusion, he doesn’t try anything else. You let out a shaky breath once you’re out of the aisle, trying to stop the shaking in your hands as you create more distance between you and the man.

You don’t bother with the rest of the list. You’ve already gotten most of the items, and you don’t want to risk anything else happening. 

You pay with the cash Eddie gave you before he dropped you off, and you make sure to keep the receipt and the change in a safe place until you can give it to him. They keep track of your finances, and ever since you lost your job, you have no choice but to rely on them completely.

When you get to his truck, you get right into the passenger seat and let Eddie put the groceries in the back. When he gets back in the driver's seat, he reaches across the centre console and pulls your head toward him, capturing your lips in a chaste kiss.

He sees your nervous expression when he pulls away, and he narrows his eyes as he keeps a hand on your cheek. He doesn’t have to prompt you though, as the words tumble from your lips before you can even think. It’s better to tell him than for him to find out later.

“There was this guy in there, he bumped into me. He apologized, tried to talk to me, but I walked away. I didn’t want to talk to him, I promise.” He smiles at your last sentence, tilting his head to the side as he looks into your wide eyes. They’ve trained you so well.

“It’s okay, sweet girl. You didn’t do anything wrong, did you?” he asks. His voice is soft, but there’s a hint of condescension as well. 

You shake your head quickly, frowning, and he smiles wider. He rubs his thumb along your cheek, and you let out a small sigh, leaning into his gentle touch. You can’t help but relish in his soft touches; they’re the only ones you’ve really interacted with since you got fired from your job 4 months ago, and if it weren’t for them, you’re sure you’d be going stir crazy.

They leave you at Buck’s that night, all cuddled up in Buck’s bed with your favourite show on and promise they’ll be back soon. They give you sweet kisses and tender touches before they go, knowing that you won’t leave while they’re gone, not anymore. And when they come back, they know you won’t ask about the specks of blood on their clothes, or the glints in their eyes, even though you know about everything.

They’re always especially worked up when they get back from nights like this, and you’ve learned not to ask questions. They happen less often now that you’re with them all the time, but they still have this desire to go out, just the two of them, and have some of their own fun.

You know they’ve done something; you know it has to do with the man from the grocery store, and you know they won’t tell you a thing, which you’re thankful for. You thought you’d be more used to their actions after so long, but it still makes your stomach churn when you think about it.

You let them lay you down on Buck’s bed anyway, and although you hate knowing what they’ve just done, you like how much attention they pay to you when they get home. They’ve showered by the time they touch you, so you tell yourself that what they’ve done is gone. Their slate is clean, their actions are washed away; down the drain and never to be thought of again.

As they pay attention to your neck, and your pretty chest, and your plush tummy and thighs, they’re so glad they thought of their plan months ago. You’re completely dependent on them without your job, and that’s exactly how they want you.

It was easy to make those fake reviews; they knew that the original two weren’t enough, so they kept adding new ones until your boss had no choice. And although they knew you’d be upset about the harsh words, they also knew that they’d be able to make you feel better. You’d forget all about your shitty job when you’re completely taken care of by them, and they’ll make sure to give you anything you want as long as you keep being their sweet girl.

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[vixenihy]

Late Night Guilt

Summary: A few months after the Cuban Missile Crisis, Jack is still facing the stressful aftermath and his survivors guilt from the war certainly isn’t helping either. Just when he feels he’s out of luck, someone he loves dearly is there to help.

Tags/Notes + Pairing: jfk x jackie kennedy, hurt/comfort?, swearing, mentions of past infidelity, antiquated beliefs about emotions, stress, anxiety.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: this is my first fic! i’m not super experienced with writing jackie, i fear. but i noticed that there aren’t any jfk x jackie fics so i wanted to change that. i love these two, lol. the indents may be a bit off bc i wrote this on my phone and used the spacebar as substitutes for indents… sorry lol. the banner was made by me, and the border below belongs to @/menschenopfer !

God Damnit…

Jack lets out a quiet groan of frustration, biting his cheek and hoping that the interviewer didn’t hear him. He’d forgotten to take the medication for managing his nerves. Not like he can remember what it’s called, though. There's too many names to even begin to remember what the Hell it’s called.

The past few months have been nothing but stress; Paper after paper and interview after interview. It’s a total mess, and it’s his fault. The Cuban Missile Crisis was the closest the world came to ending; but who started this beginning to the end? Well, Jack blames no one but himself. He can barely resist the urge to tap his teeth with his fingers in front of the camera focusing on his face.

“Mr. President, after the close call with the Soviet Union and Cuba, a handful of Americans are curious about your story that led to you earning your Purple Heart. We know there is a movie coming out later this year, but would you care to give a little of your own personal perspective?” The interviewer asks. Jack clenches his jaw and tightly interlocks his fingers as a heavy pang hits his heart. The last thing Jack wants to be reminded of is the people who he failed to protect, the two people who died because of him. He can feel the guilt eating away at him as he speaks, his voice just as calm as his face.

“Oh, there isn’t much to say. They sank my boat, and we were stranded for a while. Then with the help of some of the natives, the Navy came and saved me and my crew.” Jack explains calmly, ignoring the burning hot fire, hours of pulling men to the boat, screaming the names of the men he’d lost till daybreak. The swimming, vomiting, starvation, the close calls with death, and the terrible guilt he faces to this day. He left out all of it. No one will know how he felt that day, because Kennedys don’t show how they feel. A real Kennedy never cracks.

Jack snaps back to reality just as the interviewer finishes scribbling his notes.

“Thank you Mr. President.”

—————

“Bunny, it’s okay if you want to talk…You know I'm here for you, don’t you?” Jackie presses as she helps to massage her husband's back. Usually, she wouldn’t press too much into his day and his issues as she believed it wasn’t right to bring up the stress of the day right after it had ended, but Jackie noticed how stressed he looked and how upset he seemed to be when she saw a glimpse of him when he was alone. It worries her. And though he had hurt her in the past with his philandering behavior, she knows why he acts the way he does and how he’s doing his best to change. So, she decides to focus on the future rather than the past.

“I know, Jackie…But I'm fine. It’s just that work is stressful. That’s all.” Jack sighs, laying his head in his arms and closing his eyes as Jackie helps to work the stress out of his body. He wishes that he could tell Jackie all about his day and vent his frustrations, but he finds himself biting his tongue. Men don’t talk about their feelings, especially not a Kennedy man. He can hear his parents chastising him in the back of his mind for even having such a thought. So, he just decides to let it go and switch the conversation.

“Thank you for helping me with my back, Kid…It’s been killing me for the past month. I think picking up Caroline at Christmas really aggravated it.” He continues, turning his head back ever so slightly to look at her. Jackie looks so beautiful with the dim lamp shining behind her, illuminating her figure like an angel. He doesn’t deserve her, how did he get so lucky?

“It’s alright, Jack. You certainly made her day.” She whispers with a chuckle, glancing into his faded green eyes and watching them spark with life, the Jack Kennedy she knows and loves seems to finally come to life.

——

The crackle of fire and the smell of oil taints the air as Jack slowly opens his eyes, groaning in agony as his back spasms. He goes to grab the nightstand, but only finds a cold metal surface beneath his hand. He stumbles as he pulls himself into a standing position, opening his eyes at last. His heart drops as he realizes where he is. He’s over a thousand miles from home, he’s in the same place he fought like Hell to escape from, he’s back.

The South Pacific.

Following the same routine he’s done a hundred times before, Jack leaps off the side of the creaking bow and swims out towards the voices of his crew. They scream and cry out for their skipper and their mothers, a haunting sound he’s listened to too many times before. Just as he’s about to reach one man, he sees a head disappear below the waves. Gasping with fear, Jack dives below the waves and claws his way downwards, the darkness of the sea making it impossible for Jack to see the face of the man he’s trying to save. But just as he reaches out, he slips out of his reach. And he helplessly watches the figure disappear into the dark abyss.

Jack awakes with a start, jolting to find himself back in the luxurious bedroom he’s lived in for the past few years. He sits up gently, bringing himself back to the present with a deep sigh. Attempting to alleviate his back pain, Jack brings his knees to his chest and lies his head on his arms. A tightness settles in his heart as guilt festers in his mind. He forces back a few tears as he remembers one of the hardest experiences of his life. Just before any tears begin to break through, he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Jack?” Jackie asks groggily, confused to see her husband awake so late. “What’s the matter, Bunny?” Wiping his eyes with his hand, Jack lies down onto his back.

“It’s nothing, Jackie. Just a bad dream is all…” He sighs, turning over onto his side.

“Go back to sleep, Kid. It’s alright..” Jack mutters. But before he can allow himself to drift off, he feels Jackie's arms wrap around him and hold him close to her body. At first, he seems uncomfortable by the touch his wife is giving him. It feels so foreign and uncomfortable. But as the seconds pass, he finds himself warming up to it…

“Maybe we can get away to Hyannis Port on Saturday. No press, no people, no work…Just us. It’ll be cold, but I think you need a break.” Jackie suggests, placing a kiss on her husband's neck and rubbing her thumb over his hand.

“I love you, Bunny.” She sighs, cuddling closer to Jack.

“I love you too, Jackie.” Jack smiles, shutting his eyes and slowly drifting off to sleep.

[lunarimagines]

IT TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE [1]

Summary: An arrangement of convenience with Sunghoon doesn't go as planned when you get introduced to Jake. Things get complicated and suddenly you have to wonder how you can love two people at once without anyone getting hurt. Jake might just ruin your life...

Warnings: language, eventual sexual themes

A/N: Literally would not get out of my brain and the entire plot summary is written down in my notes app. I hope y'all enjoy, and please send me feedback!! Chapter isn't incredibly long because I want to test it out and see what y'all think.

Most people tend to forget - or pretend to forget - that idols have obligations and people in their lives pre-fame. For some idols, those lives are crushed and erased by companies from public view; but the people in their lives from before, the people who knew them the longest, still know them and remember that past.

It’s kind of like when you’re traveling through a town. It’s all foreign and new to you, but to many people in that town, it’s familiar and old. The people who know it best can find pain and love and suffering in that town. 

For you, the town is the ice rink. 

It’s hard to describe the exact smell of an ice rink. It smells like rubber and metal and cold. There’s really no other way to describe it. It is cold, obviously, but it’s a synthetic cold. Obviously. 

Still, it’s comforting. It reminds of a  blustery winter day when the weather dips below freezing and you know it’s going to snow soon, dampening the sounds of the outside and acting as a night light as the lights from the city reflect off the white shroud in the dark. That kind of peace and comfort is hard to replicate, but the ice rink does it for you. Maybe it’s because you spent most of your waking moments on the ice that you feel that way, the sides of your skates digging into your ankles to stabilize them, the rush of wind as you skate to prepare for your next jump, getting enough speed to launch into the air. 

For you, the town is also Sunghoon.

You remembered Sunghoon before he was a famous idol. You knew the young Sunghoon, the rising skater Sunghoon, the incredible skater Sunghoon possibly destined for the Olympics, and, now, idol Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon had shocked everyone at the ice rink when he announced he was pursuing life as an idol. Everyone but you. 

“Do you think… do you think it would be okay if I stopped skating?” He’d whispered it so quietly over the phone one night that the static almost drowned his soft voice out. You held the phone close to your ear, rolling onto your side in your bed to get closer to his voice. His call had woken you up around two in the morning and yet you had never felt so awake. Your heart was pounding and your hands felt clammy as you gripped your phone, staring at your wall in the dark.

“I think…” you paused, unsure. “I think you should do what makes you feel happy. What makes you excited when you wake up in the morning. If that’s not skating now, if it’s not skating ever again, that’s fine. That’s what I think.”

You heard Sunghoon’s steady breathing over the phone and you thought about the first time you’d met him at the rink. You’d both been young, steady on your skates but unsteady in nearly every other aspect of your young lives. You had gravitated toward each other due to your work ethic and dry humor. He’d been the first person you’d call when a new movie came out because you wanted to see it with him. You were the first person he’d call when he wanted to try a new restaurant because he wanted your honest opinion on the food. The two of you studied together when you could, skated together when you could, and trained together whenever possible. Everyone thought the two of you were dating, but the thought never crossed your minds. You simply loved Sunghoon and he loved you, a found family as a result of your passion for skating. 

Which is why he had called you to talk about one of the biggest decisions of his life.

“What do you want to do, like, instead? If anything, I guess,” you whispered in the early morning and cringed. You went for supportive but landed somewhere around awkward. 

Sunghoon laughed humorlessly. “I want to audition to be an idol.” 

You smiled. If anyone could make it as an idol…

“When you become an idol can I get a ticket to your concerts?”

Sunghoon laughed for real this time, and you rolled over onto your back as you felt Sunghoon relax over the phone. 

“No way, loser. I’ll ask them to charge you more.” 

He didn’t. When he had his first concert as an idol with his group after winning a grueling competition, he gave one ticket to you and the other to his mom. He even took a photo with you. “Anything for my fans,” he’d said, winking at you. You gagged and flipped him off behind his mom’s back, blushing slightly when you caught one of his group member’s eye mid-gag. The other boy had just smiled and shook his head as Sunghoon made a face at you, turning sweet when his mother turned around to hug him tightly again, proud of her son. He’d flipped you off back behind his mom’s back. 

Now, for the first time in all the years you’d known Sunghoon, you felt uncomfortable in front of him, sitting across from one another in the private dining room of an overly expensive restaurant. 

“I didn’t know.” Again with the whisper, like he was scared of what you would think. It was the same whisper he’d had when he had called you about becoming an idol.

“It’s okay. We can figure something out,” you reassured him, feeling anything but sure yourself.

“Of course they would do this, God,” Sunghoon breathed out, running his hands through his hair and hanging his head. “I am so sorry, Y/N. So, so sorry.” 

You sighed, standing to go behind Sunghoon. Rubbing his shoulders through his dress shirt, you sucked in a deep breath. 

“We both knew they wanted something from you when you switched, ah, career paths. If this is it, then this is it. We can figure it out later, but if we try to change their minds now it’ll just get ugly.”

Arranged dating. That’s what they’d proposed when they sat the two of you down for dinner. When Sunghoon had given up figure skating his parents had been supportive but displeased. He’d given up a shot at the Olympics after all. His parents had made him promise he wouldn’t worry them with idol life. The long hours, harsh environments, and dating scandals rocking the industry had made them worry, though. They’d met with the company and scrambled to find anything to make Sunghoon’s life more… stable. And they had landed on you. You had been a staple in his life for years. Those pre-idol obligations had come crashing down on the two of you on a Saturday evening, a rare Saturday Sunghoon had off. Arranged dating with the intent to marry, it seemed. They didn’t want to worry about all of Sunghoon’s future, the volatile nature of idol life making them nervous. 

You were the perfect candidate. 

“I feel like I’m in one of those, ‘My mom sold me to One Direction” Wattpad fics.’”

“Wattpad?” Sunghoon frowned, turning to look at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Nevermind, loser.”

“Wait, am I One Direction right now?” 

“Yeah, all four members.”

“There’s five of them, stupidhead,” Sunghoon replied, smug.

“Yeah, but you’re no Zayn. I’d gladly be dating him,” you joked, flicking the back of Sunghoon’s head. He stood up to face you, indignant. 

“Hey! I’m pretty good looking, too.”

You crinkled your nose at him, looking him up and down.

“That is no way to look at your boyfriend,” he joked, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous the whole thing was. You couldn’t believe your own parents agreed to this, you couldn’t believe Sunghoon’s parents even dreamt this up, and you couldn’t believe you were in a terrible fanfiction trope. You wanted to cry or maybe laugh or maybe just sleep for a few years until your problems became less glaring. 

“Hey,” Sunghoon said, his hand sliding down your arm to hold your hand softly. “I’m not asking you to fall in love with me like that. They’ll feel better when my career becomes more secure.”

You sighed, looking down. “I just don’t know what the rules are for this.”

He scoffed. “What do your One Direction fanfictions say?”

You raised your head and stared at him, unamused. “First of all, I never read those. Second of all, if I had, say, read them, I guess the rules would say we could act as we always have. You’re not a good actor -” you held up a hand to stop him as he opened his mouth to say something snarky, no doubt “- so we won’t try and act any differently around your parents.”

Sunghoon nodded, still annoyed. “What about actually dating…”

He didn’t finish. You knew what he meant though. Actually dating someone you were attracted to romantically. It didn’t hurt when he said it, it just made you feel a deep, aching sadness in your stomach. If you dated someone you actually liked, you’d be labeled a cheater and ostracized if it was ever found out. If Sunghoon dated someone he actually liked… it would be the same but worse. There were no winners at this particular junction, no way to find a new route home in your hometown. 

You shrugged at him. “It doesn’t look good. Why? You have a crush on someone?” 

Sunghoon rolled his eyes at your sing-songy voice. He pushed you away gently. “No, but I would like to find true love.”

You batted your eyes at him and he gagged, smiling as he turned to hug you. A hug from Sunghoon was pretty rare, and you held on tight. 

“We’ll be fine,” you mumbled into his shoulder. “You can’t scare me off that easily. I remember when you had food poisoning and still insisted on skating and-”

He pushed you away. “Oh my, God, would you shut the fuck up.”

You laughed, throwing your head back as you turned to bump your shoulder into his. The two of you walked toward the exit of the restaurant, him to his car and you, in the next few minutes, to the subway station to take a late train home. 

Sunghoon stopped by the door, turning to face you quickly. “Want to come over next Friday and meet the others? I’ll tell them about what’s going on and then you can meet them. Okay?” You nodded. It felt slightly embarrassing, but it felt right that his bandmates knew what was going on between the two of you. After years of telling them nothing was going on with you and Sunghoon it would seem odd you were suddenly dating the man without the context surrounding the arrangement. Embarrassing to say out loud, maybe. But telling them kept some part of your pride intact. 

“I’ll see you next Friday, then. Around eight?” you asked, checking your phone calendar to make sure you weren’t scheduled for work.

Sunghoon nodded, punching you lightly on the arm as he headed out. You plopped down in a plush chair at the front and waited for ten minutes before leaving after, taking your sweet time to get to the subway station. 

It was a nice night, slightly chilly but clear. The rush of traffic wasn’t slowing down in the city, yet the sidewalks weren’t crowded. Your pace was leisurely as your mind mulled over the events of the night. You wondered how your parents had agreed to it, but you figured they always thought you and Sunghoon were an item and felt it was natural. It stung a bit to think about, and your eyes got wet at the thought. You blinked back the emotions and trudged on, reaching the subway and taking the late train home. Miraculously, the train wasn’t crowded yet for a Saturday night and you found a seat. The swaying of the car felt relaxing on your suddenly weary body and you slumped back into the seat. You were almost dreading next Friday, but a small part of you was looking forward to meeting Sunghoon’s bandmates. You hadn’t met them, truly met them, except in passing at concerts. Now that his past and his present were merging you would finally have the chance to meet them.

All week you amped yourself up to meet Sunghoon’s bandmates. You finally felt ready as you got out of the cab behind their dorm on Friday and a staff member ushered you inside.

But when you finally met the members there was only one way to describe it: A Shitshow. And it was all because of one man in particular.

Fucking Jake Sim.

[chisubi]

a recollection of bellflowers — h. rindō

content. fem!reader, slice of life, implied／referenced infidelity (not by you or rindō), non-linear

word count. 7.4k

note. this is something i’ve been working on for a while because i have no idea how to write rindō . . . >< i wanted this to have a summery shōjo feel to it, so hopefully i was able to capture it well enough ?? (also, sorry, this is a little unedited.)

i had to force myself to finish this or else i would end up forgetting about it again ! there’s only three parts to this, however, updates will be sporadic :x

part one ／ from summer, 1999

Your fiancé has a lover in Tokyo.

He doesn’t tell you, you never ask, you just know — a woman’s intuition is never wrong. Something you learned from your dear mother.

Two nights ago, while you are both lying beside one another in bed, he complains that he has yet another business trip in Tokyo [his last one was just a few weeks ago], he asks if there is anything you would like him to buy — like that dessert you find yourself indulging in a little too much these days, a new novel to add to your collection of unread books that you swear you will get to them eventually, a new set of coffee mugs or a bouquet of your favourite flowers. You tell him, “No, it’s okay. I don’t need anything.”

He doesn’t press when you decline. Instead, he leans down to capture your lips with his before he leaves; the wind rushes by, chilling over the spot he had touched. His “I’ll miss you” never reaches you, carrying with it the ghosts of your past. His “I love you” completely passes you by. Ever-so-fleeting.

It’s been this way for a few months now. You don’t know when it first began, but the signs became more and more obvious as the days passed by. Rather than sadness or anger, you don’t really feel anything anymore. Only regret remains. Those memories and promises you both made together are beginning to fade. And what seems to make your heart shake is that you don’t know what to do, despite change and abandonment seemingly always following after you. Time and time again. Even after all these seasons, you are still lost.

When summer burns, or when fireworks spark up the midnight sky, you feel it on your tongue and skin as the same memories fill your mind once again. That summer night by the river’s edge. And summer nights following that — all of them are unforgettable, always leaving you feeling the bittersweet taste of citrus and honey drowning in the back of your throat. Too sweet, too sour. 

No matter where you are in the world, a spirit of a little girl clinging onto the sandbox of an old playground remains in Roppongi. Abandoned, yet not once forgotten. Your flesh, blood, and bones will always be made up of Rindō and Ran from way back then. You hold these memories deep in your heart so preciously like a collection of little treasures as you continue to grow older.

A quarter before midnight, the moon is down and clouded by the fog; you take the train all the way to Roppongi. It’s strangely empty inside, you cannot see what lies outside. Tired and uneasy, the sound of the midnight train running across the tracks lulls you to sleep.

—

You are eleven when your mother drops you off at your grandfather’s house all the way in Roppongi during the summer; miles away from the countryside you grew up in. She doesn’t wait for your grandfather to open the door to come and greet you. She yells out how she will see you in a few weeks, the engine roars, and she is gone.

You have never met any grandparents before. Your mother doesn’t like to talk about them, so you never ask, not wanting to overstep the invisible line (she is scary when she is in a foul mood). You learn to be a good child because you want to see your mother smile again — she stopped smiling for months now, and you don’t know why. However, you believe she will feel better once she picks you up in a few days.

After all, adults need their rest as well (or something like that).

You soon also learn that your grandfather is a tall, scary man. A seemingly permanent scowl, a low and gruff voice that is only heard through a few words. A strong scent of alcohol lingers on the collar of his shirt – one you sometimes smell on your mother’s breath – he looks at you so emptily, then sighs. The chill in the air prickles against your exposed skin, you gulp.

No matter how silent of a man he is, you are a good daughter, so you introduce yourself to him and thank him for letting you stay with him — “I’ve always imagined meeting you, grandpa. I saw you in a picture before!” 

These words seem to catch his attention. His tracks stop, he doesn’t look back, and all you can see is his wide back. You hear him mumble something beneath his breath, you don’t catch any of the words — you weren’t meant to. Something sticks out about your grandfather. Something you can’t help, but focus on is his missing a pinky. You try not to stare, and he doesn’t say anything when he catches your innocent, curious eyes. Rather, he doesn’t say anything at all to you and you can’t help but become overly sensitive to every draw of his breath.

You wish you were back home in that little countryside town, tucked far away from this bizarre place. You want your mother to come and pick you up.

You would rather be at home with her than here.

—

Surprisingly, you got more sleep than you expected last night. This is your first time sleeping in a bed that doesn’t belong to you; in a place that is so foreign to you.

And you guess it wasn’t so bad. The mattress is a lot softer than the one back at home.

Breakfast is simple and traditional. A bowl of steamed rice, fried mackerel with a side of nattō (you don't like the smell, but you try your best to swallow the beans without making any faces, and fail). The mackerel on your plate is neatly pulled apart, bones discarded, and you smile to yourself. Your grandfather is more attentive — kinder than he looks. Your teachers have always told you and your classmates to never judge someone based on their appearance.

“Um . . . Grandpa?” Silence is met with your call. However, you take that silence as a sign to continue speaking. “Can I, uh, may I go outside for a little bit?” 

“There’s a park nearby,” he simply replies with a few words before directing his attention back onto the television.

Your eyes brighten. “Okay, thank you!”

Quickly shoving down your breakfast, you’re out the door and ready to play.

So, your grandfather isn’t the greatest at giving directions. After some twists and turns and walking back and forth, it is not too hard to find the park he vaguely described. 

There's a group of kids playing on the playground, dangling off the monkey bars and sitting around. Too shy to approach, you shuffle over to the swing set, and rock yourself back and forth.

After some moments of swinging, and looking back at them to your feet, you hear a bunch of footsteps heading towards you.

You look up in anticipation and nervously smile at the group of boys in front you. Maybe they want to join you? [Hopefully.] “Um, hi! Did you want to—” Your words are immediately cut off as someone steps right in front of you.

“Get off.”

“H-huh?”

“H-huh?” A boy mocks with a high pitch tone and your cheeks heat up when you hear laughter surrounding you.

“Get off so we can play,” this one stands in front of you, hair short with a red cap in his hand. “You can hear properly, right?”

Someone says, “No, I don’t think she can.”

Another laughs.

The short-haired boy glares at you, hand reaching over and tugs on your hair — hard. You yelp as your hand immediately wraps around his wrist. “We told you to move, so move,” he harshly shouts and you flinch as your ear rings.

You don’t understand why they’re mad or why they are telling you to leave. This has never happened to you back at home before.

You yell at the boy to let go of you, pushing his arm away as hard as you can. However, this action only leads him to pull hard this time. You yelp. The group breaks out into snickers and grins.

Traitorously, your body betrays you as tears gather in the corner of your eyes. You don’t want to cry — you don’t like crying, never wanting anyone to see your tears. But you feel so helpless and lost and alone.

"Hey, wait, you're gonna make her cry. . .” Someone speaks up and for a second, you’re hopeful.

“I’m not even doing it hard. She’s just being a baby,” the short-haired boy scoffs before he accuses, “why do you care? You like her?”

His face flushes, and beneath the thick frames of his glasses, his widened eyes shake. “No way!”

“I bet you think she’s pretty.”

The boy gags as he takes great strides away from you. His arms cross over his chest as he yells, “Gross. Over my dead body.”

“Oh, is that so?”

It’s a voice that comes out of nowhere, causing you to jump. Colour drained from the faces in front of you; awfully, sickly pale.

And it comes fast all too fast — someone running in between you and the group of boys with a flying fist. Another one and another one. Colour falls from your cheeks mirroring the group and unlike them, you find yourself unable to move. To run away. You think you see a drop of red splattered on the concrete as you tightly shut your eyes, your body shakes and you cover your ears in an attempt to block the sound.

Someone cries. Screams, shoes smacking against the pavement, and laughter — one both loud and taunting. Then all of a sudden, everything goes silent. Hesitantly, you slowly open your eyes. Purple fills your entire vision. You jump at the sudden close proximity, you can feel their hair tickling your cheek as he leans in close to you.

There’s glass covering purple gems.

The boy asks, "Are you good?” 

You slowly nod, “Thank you for, um . . . helping me?” You say this rather confusingly, unable to comprehend everything that had happened within minutes. You take a step back as you look around, you don’t see any of those boys from earlier. They vanished as if they were never here, the footprints made in the sandpit and droplets of blood remind you otherwise. 

Your eyes fall towards his hands that punched those bullies — knuckles all red, you bite your lip to conceal your quivering lips. You turn to the taller boy with no visible cuts or bruises, only a smug grin on his face that matches with the one in front you, and you thank him as well. When you take a better look at him, you notice the two of them sort of look similar.

He looks down at you and waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Those guys were lame for ganging up on you. They always pick fights with people weaker than them.”

“Right, those idiots got what was coming for them,” the other boy adds with a laugh. “Are you not from around here?”

You shake your head.

“Thought so. Haven’t seen you around here before. So, what’s your name? I’m Rindō, and that’s my older brother, Ran,” the boy – Rindō – introduces.

You tell them your name and thank them once again.

“Uh-uh. Just tell us if they bother you again. We’ll deal with it,” says Ran.

You perk up, “You will?”

“Yeah, Roppongi belongs to the Haitani brothers.”

Roppongi belongs to the two boys who don’t seem older than you. Confused, you ask, “Are you guys protectors or something? Like heroes?”

Your words are met with snorts that evolve into laughter. Beside you, Rindō gives you a toothy grin as he readjusts his glasses. “I guess if that’s what you think, then sure.”

The heroes of Roppongi.

The sun is shining and his smile glows.

Meeting the Haitani brothers was probably nothing special, a similar story that could be told by countless people during their youth. However, to you, an eleven-year-old girl being picked on at the playground, helpless and tear-stained, they seemed like your heroes. So bright and blinding. A moment that changes your entire life.

—

Ran and Rindō have come to knock on the door to your grandfather’s house nearly everyday since then. When the old man opens it to see two unfamiliar children, he sighs before calling out your name (which makes your heart jump from your chest from how loud his voice can be). And you’re quick to slip on your old running shoes and bolt out the door.

Rindō tells you he found a cool place the other day, a hidden room at the back of an old shrine, and he wants to show it to you. Keeping up with the Haitanis is hard; chasing after them is even harder. Their legs aren’t that much longer than yours, but their strides are far too long, too fast.

Rindō is kind enough to slow down, only for a moment. “You’re too slow,” he complains before grabbing your hand and pulls you along to keep up with them. Without noticing, you don’t trip over your own feet anymore.

“Careful, Rindō,” Ran lowly warns as his hand reaches out and wraps around Rindō’s wrist, pulling him away from walking up the stone steps. The tall, red torii gate looms above. A crow lingers at the very top. “Don’t you know young children get spirited away here?”

“Huh? Spirited away? Like the movie?”

“No, no. Not the film, Rin,” Ran snickers at his brother’s words, you don’t understand what Ran finds so funny. And Rindō doesn’t seem to know either, but his face is red and he looks mad at Ran. “The legends. Haven’t you heard that the yōkai will come and snatch you up? They take away children who run off alone. They’ll come to get you, dummy.”

Rindō shakes his head, staring up at his brother with skeptical lavender eyes. “No way. You’re just trying to scare me again. I won’t fall for it anymore, nii-chan.”

“Nuh-uh, ‘m serious this time.” Ran says this so lightly, it sounds unconvincing.

Rindō's glare hardens as he crosses his arm. “Okay. Why are you such a liar these days?”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No—”

You block out their childish bickering — they always seem to do this. It’s always Ran who seems to start it. And through their yelling, an old memory flashes in your mind. Your head perks up in remembrance as you gasp. 

This garners their attention because they both immediately stop their “argument” and turn to look at you.

“Wait, it is true! I heard that Tomoko-chan from the class next door visited the shrine last summer and she never returned . . .” you pitch in with the eerie rumour your classmates had whispered to each other last year — Tomoko-chan got taken away by a monster. Those words reach to the end of the long hallways and snuck into the wooden panels in the room. Kids at school don’t go anywhere alone now.

In the distance, a crow caws.

So, you learn something new: monsters also live in the city. They don’t only reside in the little town you grew up in. Monsters exist everywhere in the world.

The brothers send each other a look, one that you don’t understand, something only they know — only them. You watch as they communicate through stares alone before turning their attention back onto you.

“Really?”

Quickly nodding, you add, “Yup, it’s true. I swear. Everyone said so. She went to make a wish, and then disappeared. Her family isn’t even in town anymore.”

Ran lets out an exaggerated sigh. He crosses his arms with a half smile to his face. “See, I was looking out for you.”

“Right. Don’t you think you’ve been lying too much to me lately? At least, learn to make it believable.”

Ran laughs before quietly saying, “If you’re scared, just say so.”

The crow above the gate caws, careful, you glance up at the noise, to the long steps then to Ran, and then Rindō, who looks up at his brother clearly unimpressed.

Obviously, Rindō isn’t scared of ghosts, or yōkai, or monsters that eat children. He is already too old to believe in things like that. He protests and says this, despite you and Ran telling him otherwise, Rindō is skeptical. He says he still doesn’t believe you, he can’t believe you would make up a lie and follow Ran, and you tell him you would never lie to him or anybody. Only bad people lie.

However, the Haitani brothers are closer than anyone — they told you this when you first met, so it’s to no one’s surprise when they turn around and gang up on you instead. Because you are scared, or so Rindō insists. Ran says it’s okay because you are a girl and you’re just a baby compared to them. It’s true, you are scared of the yōkai who snatch away wandering children. You aren’t scared because of the reasons Ran says. It’s rather annoying how Ran calls you a baby for something like that.

(You don’t tell him that, though.)

The three of you don’t enter the shrine. They show you around the neighbourhood and some spots they like to hang out at, like an arcade and a newly opened ramen shop. The entire time, Ran holds both of your hands tightly, you are sure he is holding Rindō’s even tighter. Your shadows are overlapped, mixing together. The yōkai don’t come for them or you. You are safe together. 

As the sun begins to set, you stop by a food stall, the old lady running it tells you that you look so pretty and you remind her of her granddaughter. She gives a discount — 100 yen for six pieces. Ran takes out the coin from his pocket and he divides the takoyaki between the three of you before heading home. 

It’s quiet when you enter the house, nobody welcomes you home, but your grandfather sits in the living room watching television again. He spares you a glance, before turning his attention back to the t.v. Static and muffled voices fill the house.

—

A week turns into two, then three. Summer passes by quickly here in Roppongi. Everything moves so fast in the city, it’s exhilarating — overwhelming. Your little body struggles to keep up.

You run, run, and run the days away.

Again and again, you fall.

(Rindō and Ran pick you back up.)

“My mom abandoned me,” you tell Rindō one afternoon, weakly adding in, “. . . I think.” Hopefulness seeps through; a child’s innocence, your naïveté.

Underneath the big oak tree, Rindō turns to look at you while opening the blue ramune and gives it to you to drink first — he was supposed to buy two, but he forgot the rest of his change at home. He says it’s fine because he doesn’t mind sharing his drink with you. He shares drinks with Ran all the time. And you don’t mind it either.

“. . . She will,” he slowly replies, “maybe she is just busy working — adults are like that, y’know. What about your dad?”

Adults are like that, at least the ones you know. Your mom is probably busy, but either way, she lied to you and this is what hurts. You don’t try to hide your disappointment in her.

You shake your head, looking down at your swaying feet. “I don’t know.” 

You really don’t know.

You don’t remember his face, eyes, and everything is blurred, but you recall his boxy smile and a heavy hand that ruffled your hair. 

“I haven’t seen my dad before either. I don’t even think that guy knows I exist.”

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Are you lonely without him?”

He shakes his head, hair bouncing with every movement. “Nah, I have Ran. Even though he’s so annoying these days.”

The two [three] of you are similar in a way. It’s rather comforting knowing you aren’t the only one with a family like that.

Rindō vows to you that he will always be by your side so you aren’t alone anymore, because he has Ran, but you don’t have an older brother like Ran to stay with you.

He holds your hand — one so cold and sticky from the blue ramune. Again, he tells you that you still have him and Ran, because you are his best friend. Maybe he thinks you didn’t hear him the first time. His words are warm, so you don’t mind his cold fingers touching yours — it cools you down from the heat, even if the rest of your body is melting under the summer sun. Somehow, it always finds a way to peek through the little gaps, through the spaces between your fingers.

Together, you finish the ramune with lighter hearts.

At the end of summer, you are still at your grandfather’s house — your mother never comes to get you. That little, big, tiny feeling brewing in you all summer in Roppongi turned out to be right. But you aren’t alone.

Time flows quickly in Roppongi. Months pass by in a blink of an eye.

—

Coming home to the city where everything first began leaves your thoughts in a flurry; too jumbled and twisted. This house hasn’t changed one bit, walking into your old bedroom feels like a dream; both familiar and alien. A few of your old belongings still remain in place, you never have it in you to pack it up and bring them with you. Your mother hasn’t bothered to move them either.

Tonight, you help your mother make katsu curry. A staple in many households; also, the first dish you learned how to make.

You can feel your mother’s nerves as today is the day where you are officially meeting the man she is seeing (whom she had once mentioned as her new colleague over a year ago). He seemed like a normal, stand up man, but you can tell she likes him, so you don’t disapprove of him.

To calm her down (as well as your own excitement and nervousness), the two of you make small talk as you cook.

“Did you love him?” 

You immediately stiffen, the knife stops just above the fresh carrots from your mother’s garden, and you don’t press down. She doesn’t say who, but you already know who she is referring to. Your heart aches without the mention of his name. A boy who isn’t your fiancé. Your soon-to-be husband. “Did you love that boy from back then?”

Your face shines in the knife, the glare of the light above makes your reflection disappear. You force yourself to focus, continuing to cutting the carrot into chunks. The sound of the knife hitting against the cutting board echoes in your ears. “Why are you mentioning that? Why are you curious about it now? It’s been too long since then.”

“I used to think you would end up marrying him in the future.”

The sentence has you turning around in surprise. You harshly swallow, forcing a short laugh. Your heart clogs your throat. Emotions twisting like ebbing waves. “You never even liked him,” your voice doesn’t sound less tense.

“Maybe I didn’t, but you did.” Her expression says nothing — no hatred, regret, or sadness; she is only looking at you so clearly — right through to your leaking heart. All you wish is to run and hide from that all-knowing gaze of hers, you wish you never turned around. “For some people, they are only capable of loving one person their entire life. There’s a saying that nobody forgets about their first loves and for those people, sometimes their first love lasts forever.”

Some people, she says. By this, she means you.

The ring that sits prettily on your finger feels too heavy, squeezing your finger.

“. . . That already ended so long ago,” softly, you say.

The doorbell rings, cutting through the tense atmosphere. There’s an exchange of looks — her expression soft as she offers a small smile of condolence.

The man – Mr. Hajime – arrives earlier than expected. You follow behind your mother as she opens the door and you see bright red roses before you see him. Your mother’s cheeks turn red as she bashfully smiles while accepting the bouquet.

He enters the home and when you meet his eyes, you smile and nod in acknowledgment. Mr. Hajime stops in front of you, pulling out a bouquet with a variety of flowers; of blues and whites.

“Thank you,” you say as he places the flowers in your hand.

His smile is awfully gentle. His eyes match that gentleness, too. An old, loving soul. “No, I should be the one thanking you. It’s nice to finally meet you. Your mother often talks about you.”

You smile as a reply.

You wish to know what she has said. And maybe you will ask him another time, you know you will. There’s no doubt you will be meeting him again and again.

Mr. Hajime moves with familiarity in the house as if he has been here many times before (you wouldn’t doubt if he has). He makes his way to the dining room as he turns on an old song on your grandfather’s beloved record player. You don’t know the title, but you remember hearing it play many times back when you were a kid. It sounds so nostalgic. 

As the three of you eat dinner, a younger image of your mother and you eating in silence overlap, and the bittersweet feeling at how much your mother has grown begins to hit you. Despite her fading black hair and the grays that replace them, and the barely noticeable wrinkles around her eyes; the look in her eyes seems younger — happier. 

You’ve never seen her like this before. Her heart races for her — her love for Mr. Hajime and the happiness he brings to her. You’re happy for her, you really are.

This street and this house bring back so many memories; memories of times that will never come again and new ones are being created. And even more in the future.

Nostalgia continues to devour you. Your heart is aching in many different ways.

—

A year passes by, you don’t hear from Rindō or Ran after a few weeks of sending letters back and forth, and occasional phone calls made on your house line when your mother works overtime on Saturday nights.

Ran had warned you beforehand that he doesn’t do handwritten letters or phone calls or emails [whatever that means], you think he may just not want to talk to you, and strangely, you don’t take much offence in it. Like Rindō has always said, Ran is Ran, he does things his own way. Plus, you had already assumed you would hear updates on Ran from Rindō, however your assumption turns out to be wrong.

Tons of calls and letters left unanswered. You send another one, your final letter to him.

2002 年 4月 22日

Hi Rindō,

I know it’s been a while since my last letter and I haven’t received one back from you either. I make sure to check the mailbox twice a week! I really will be upset if you don’t reply or call me this time for real.

The new year started recently and I’m being forced to join a club this time. Kaa-san is still busy with work, and she comes home exhausted, so I decided to join the culinary club. Coming home to a cooked meal is something everyone likes, right? I am not really confident in my cooking skills though. . .

I miss you and Ran a lot. It’s lonely here without you guys. I hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I won’t forgive you if you did. Write to me soon, okay? I want to know what you have been up to.

And it’s no shocker when there’s no response to it.

Your initial bitterness eventually fades into nothing but nostalgia.

As the years go on, you forget all about the Haitani brothers and Roppongi. Their faces become more and more blurred with each passing month. You must’ve been erased from their memory — a little childhood memory too dazed to remember.

Junior high is harder than it seems — making friends doesn’t come easy, you spend the majority of your time alone. But ever since you joined the culinary club in your second year, everyone there is friendly and supportive, and things begin to change. School becomes a little more fun, and sometimes, you don’t mind waking up so early in the morning.

You find yourself trapped in the middle of a circle. All eyes on you. Ones full of anticipation.

And of course, this could only be one thing — gossiping. They talk about love stories, first kisses, and boys. Unfortunately, the target today is none other than you.

“No, I don’t have a crush on anyone," you firmly state. It’s the third time this week you've been asked this question, you don’t understand why everyone is so curious.

“Ehh, don’t lie!” Sachiko playfully nudges you with a giggle. Eyes piercing into yours, and you inaudibly sigh at her skepticism. You don’t budge when she continues to push and she pouts. “Fine, fine. What about Naoki-kun from the baseball team?”

A chorus of ‘Ahh’s’ and giggles erupt in the room. A telling sign of the boy’s popularity. Even someone like you, who doesn’t care much about boys [yet] knows about him. From what you heard, he spends most of his time practicing baseball and he only dated one girl during his first year for only a week. He’s more serious than he seems, yet he gets along with everyone, parents and teachers included.

He’s good-looking. You aren’t blind, you know this much, but you don’t think you like short hair so much — even if Naoki-kun’s short hair suits him quite well. Still, you end up timidly agreeing with your club members, wishing to get this over with. “Mhm, I think Naoki-kun is kinda cute . . .” 

"Oh my gosh . . .”

“Ah, I knew it,” someone says. “I mean, most girls like him, so it’s obvious, right?"

You never said anything about liking Naoki-kun in a romantic way, you just said he was kinda cute (you guess). You just shrug and the topic moves onto how a student in the grade below you had caught the new teacher from class 2-b and the principal on a date. Your married principal. A classic love affair. The rumour echoes down the streets in the town, forever spiralling.

And in the early morning of May, 2003, your mother enters the house again and you think she may have forgotten something before heading off to work. Instead, she tosses a letter on the kitchen table. She says it’s for you. It’s plain. A white envelope with no decorations — you immediately know it’s not from one of your friends from school and your heart races in anticipation even before you grab it. You flip it over to see if it says who it’s from.

And it does. It’s a letter sent from Roppongi — a letter from Haitani Rindō.

Time slows and your heart beats loudly in your ears. The wind leading into summer suddenly doesn’t feel so slow; the morning birds chirp in tune of your heartbeat.

It was already the end of June, you blow out your candles. Another June goes by and you graduate from junior high.

—

You are sixteen when you meet Rindō and Ran again. 

They surprise you at the train station, and when you see them, you don’t recognise them at all. It feels like you don’t know who they are. They’re suddenly a lot taller, more mature with matching tattoos and dyed hair that you don’t see people your age with — and to their defence, they have always had dyed hair back when you first met. There’s an intimidating air to them which draws you in. An edge you should look out for. One step and you will fall.

Your grandfather has also changed — barely, but you can see he looks a little smaller than you remember him to be. Older, too. There’s wrinkles around his eyes and mouth — ones due to his permanent frown. Yet his eyes feel warm, they soften when he looks at you.

Ran doesn’t really hang out nor talk to you anymore. During your trip there, he spends most days out and sometimes Rindō tags along with him, in which you stay at home with your grandfather or go shopping. And when you first caught them with bruises on their faces and torn skin on their knuckles, you cried. Catching them two and three more times didn’t make it any better.

You knew from first glance that Rindō and Ran are what people call delinquents, you aren’t blind when faced with the obvious. It feels strange seeing your childhood friends like this — the violence indulge in.

(You couldn’t believe it when you first learned the reason as to why you haven’t heard from Rindō in a long, long time. It’s still hard to believe, but when you see them like this, you can’t refuse it.)

It gradually builds into a routine, always finding yourself in the Haitani home while their mother is away at work. Forcing Rindō down onto his bed as you clumsily clean up his wounds, shaky, and unable to look away. Fretting over the way they’ve been hurt like a mother to her children (this is how their own mother probably feels coming home to be greeted by bruised faces). A burned cd of his favourite songs plays in the background. Quietly, because you’re both afraid of Ran waking up.

“Stop looking at me like that.” His tone is anything, but harsh. His sigh is heavy, yet soft. “You gotta stop worrying at this point. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

You immediately frown as you glare up at him. “I worry because you don’t.”

“You know it’s not as bad as it looks. Can barely feel a thing. You’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”

You quickly retort, “It is . . . Why do you keep saying that? Every time I see you, you are injured. That’s not normal.” Growing more frustrated at his lack of self-care, you softly glare at his tattered hand. You mumble, “What are you and your brother even up to?” More so to you, than to Rindō.

However, he hears you. He laughs, more rather airy than his usual boastful one. “Aren’t you too nice?”

“No, I’m not,” you mutter. “Something like this is normal.”

“I guess that means my world isn’t so normal. I don’t know anyone else like you.”

Those pretty amethyst eyes draw you in. You shake your head, replying, “You will meet others like me. Caring about someone who is hurt is nothing special. It’s . . . it’s human to do so.” You hold his hand carefully in yours, inspecting the cloth to make sure it’s securely wrapped. Thumb brushing over the fabric.

“There’s only you.” 

The room falls silent. The track slowly fades into the next. Your heart races.

Rindō coughs into his sleeve. “Um, I meant that I only know you. The guys I know aren’t really like that at all.”

It may be your mind playing tricks on you. The way he looks and sounds — his every gesture feels too tender to be Rindō. It’s odd, not him. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you too because the look in Rindō’s eyes seems too gentle and intimate. You look away.

“You have Ran, who cares about you a lot,” you point out, eyes looking anywhere but at him.

He quietly chuckles, “Yeah. That’s just Ran though. You know how he is.”

You vaguely reply, “I guess so.”

“You know so.”

“Everyone knows so,” you softly add, “just take of yourself more. Please.”

You lift your eyes for a split second, and he meets you within it. Rindō softly smiles, “Okay. I will, so you won’t cry anymore.”

You can’t look at him for too long without feeling your face flush, it gets too hot, and the unfamiliar feeling of butterflies that invade your stomach, pooling, itching to explode whenever he smiles at you. He makes you so nervous and you don’t know how to react. You’ve never felt this type of nervousness with someone before.

“I don’t cry.”

“I sure hope you won’t.”

You don’t know how to act.

That night, once Ran awakens from his nap, the three of you decide to hang outside. Roppongi is not similar to the countryside in any shape or form and you’re no longer surprised to see the city awake during these late nights. This city is always brighter after midnight.

Rindō had run off to the nearest konbini for drinks due to him losing three rounds of rock-paper-scissors [really, who actually chooses rock], and you and Ran are squatting down by the riverbank with sparklers burning in your hands. Rindō will probably be annoyed that the two of you started without him the second he ran off, but it’s Ran fault if anything. He’s the one who made you grab the sparklers and lit them himself.

However, Rindō wouldn’t be surprised by this, because everyone knows how impatient Ran can be at times.

“Y’know, on summer nights like this, the main character and her love interest would light sparklers together—” Ran begins to say with his sparkler dangles above yours, burning so fast and bright, “—and they will become stuck together. It stays like that, and that is usually when something in their relationship changes. . . I saw it in a shōjo anime before.” He pulls the end of his sparkler before his and yours get the chance to become tangled, and smiles softly at you. Ran looks pretty — prettier than most celebrities you see on television and magazine covers. He’s probably popular with girls.

And you assume, Rindō, too. He’s definitely no less popular than his brother. This thought immediately makes everything feel sour, your smile falters and you look back down at the sparklers. A pile of ash building below. The flames are bright, rushing into your eyes and leaves your head dizzy.

It’s quite beautiful; the way sparks flicker and dimming ashes fall around you. Vanishing within moments it hits the ground.

“You learned that from a shōjo anime?”

He replies with a shrug. “I mean, yeah. It’s a popular trope these days. I know you girls are into those types of things. Quite romantic, hm?” 

You nod and don’t try to hide your smile. You didn’t think Ran was into anime like that. You didn’t know he was a romantic type of guy.

“Don’t laugh,” Ran scoffs. “You’ve become quite rude, huh.”

“I’m not! I just thought it was cute,” you huff in defense.

“Uh-huh.”

He rolls his eyes in which you mockingly repeat back, and you both laugh.

So, Ran is a little different these days. He’s all grown, almost unrecognisably so. But he is still your friend — there is still the Ran you knew back then there inside of him. And you think, he and Rindō could probably say the same about you. Change is inevitable, it comes hand-in-hand with growing up.

“So, this is something you do with someone you love. . .” you mutter his words to yourself. “Why aren’t you doing it with someone you love—well, uh, have you?”

It’s silent. A croak of a frog, a call of a cicada. His answer lies in his silence and it’s sad to hear, because beneath everything, Ran is someone with lots of love to give. It’s unfortunate how he’s never once liked to wear his heart on his sleeve, hidden away deep in a metal cage. He is a nice guy, really. So sweet to Rindō — sometimes towards you.

Ran shakes his head, redirecting the conversation to you. Something he always seems to do. “Why aren’t you?”

You . . . ?

Attentive with the eyes of a hawk, Ran picks up on your confusion within seconds. He tells you not to mind his words which only makes you feel more lost — heart racing. You think Ran knows something, but you do not know what. The unknown is always terrifying and you want to know.

Ran wants an answer that you cannot provide. Beginning to feel warm underneath your thin clothes, you grow anxious under his heavy stare, yet can’t find it in yourself to look away.

His eyes drift for a second and light from the sparklers fall in. He looks back at you, then cocks his head in the opposite direction. Curious, you follow his line of sight — Rindō.

Immediately, you take this opportunity to run. You hand the remains of your incense stick to Ran as you jump up, dusting off the dirt and ash that may have gotten on your clothes. Running up the stone steps, meeting him halfway (you pay no mind to Ran who yells that you got dirt on him). Your shadows reach before your bodies do, overlapping underneath the flickering lamp post. 

“Rindō! Why’d you take so long?” You ask while leaning in, folding your hands behind your back. His blond locks are messy and sticking to his forehead instead of styled in his usual fashion, red cheeks and his chest is raising up and down as he breathes. “Did’ya run here? You’re looking a little red . . .”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, visibly annoyed with a prominent scowl on his face. “This idiot in front of me was taking his sweet fuckin’ time,” he replies, his glasses shift down his nose bridge and you reach your hand up to fix it. However, before you can, he grabs your wrist (a sudden yet gentle gesture) completely stopping you.

You awkwardly mutter, “Um. Sorry . . . ?” 

Rindō blinks before letting go of your hand, shaking his head. “Ah, no,” he clears his throat, “I got it. Thanks.”

Opening the plastic bag, he holds a bottle of ramune towards you. The little spot he touched burns, and it’s then when Rindō asks you what’s wrong because you had suddenly froze in your movements. “Did you want a different flavour? I think I saw a strawberry one left,” he offers, “or you can take my drink. It’s beer, though. You don’t drink, right?”

“No, no. I like it. I prefer the original one,” you decline as you take the drink from his hand. Fingers brushing against his cold ones. “Thanks, Rin.”

“I do, too. It’s my favourite.”

His favourite, yet he had replaced it for some cheap canned alcohol — he and Ran aren’t even old enough to drink, but you don’t really care, either. Things like that strangely suit them.

You bite your tongue when you almost reply, I know. However, you do respond with a brief, “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a necessity on summer days, y’know?”

You can’t help, but agree. “That’s why I like it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

And you wonder if Rindō remembers everything that happened the summer the both of you first met — you do. Those summer days spent underneath the shade side by side sharing melting popsicles and ramune, running around Roppongi and challenging each other at the arcade games. Aiding new cuts and bruises that appear on the brother’s bodies, Rindō would place a bandaid on your hands and knees every time you had fallen down trying to catch up to them, and whispering secrets only meant for the two of you to know [ones Ran comes to know, unsurprisingly]. You miss those summer days, and you don’t want to see the end of this one too.

Days with the Haitani brothers are unforgettable — so special, a feeling nothing can replace. Your hometown has never once felt like this.

Nobody has made you feel this way before.

You bring the ramune to your mouth, sweetness dissolves on your tongue, your lips tingle, and your heart burns and burns and burns.

—Bang!

A sudden sharp noise causes you to jump, droplets of your drink splash onto your thin shirt and down your chest. The culprit is none other than Rindō, who had bought firecrackers along with the drinks — setting it off a little too close to him and Ran, bursting right beneath their feet. Rindō laughs uproariously due to your surprised expression — so loud and clear, it cuts through the cicadas’ callings, passing cars, and the booming of firecrackers. His smile is like the warmth of summer; brighter than sparklers and the sea of little stars above. Your cheeks heat up, and all you can see is him.

At this moment, it’s two a.m. at the end of July when everything hits you like a huge tidal wave. Oh. You understand it now. 

This feeling burns into you.

Everything feels like summer.

[restrictedreadingtwst]

What are the first years like in their classes? What stereotypes do they fit into and how well they get along with their classmates? Who knows what kind of shenanigans they get into, but these are just some headcanons I've thought up of. Inspired by a post I made on my old blog.

tw: none

Group: Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack howl, Epel Felmier, Ortho Shroud, + Sebek Zigvolt

✧. ┊ "𝒜𝓂 𝐼… 𝒶 𝒷𝒶𝒹 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃… 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀."

Sharing a class with Ace is very much like having a know-it-all clown in class who makes very unnecessary comments to almost every little thing your professor says. He’s trying to make a joke to entertain his growing boredom of the subject but instead usually gets in trouble or a light scolding for interrupting the class. But the quiet snickering of his fellow classmates only encourages this behavior of his, so he’ll pursue these actions up until it goes too far and suddenly there is a pop quiz on the topic he so clearly hasn’t been paying attention to. 

Another thing, in between classes changing or teachers leaving to step out into the hall for another matter, Ace isn’t afraid to slide on over to where some of his friends may be seated and goof off for a quick minute or two. He’ll purposely sit on their desks, whispering about upcoming exams and trying to get his friends to open up about study guides or any cheat sheets they plan on using. He’s not gonna be studying hard when he can just cheat off his classmates and other, more smarter fellows. 

Say goodbye to any of your clean sheets of papers cuz they will fall victim to his boredom. Small doodles in the margins, passing notes and sharing jokes all while having to hold back his own laughter at his friend’s expressions. If that’s not enough, when he thinks no one else is watching he’ll crump up the paper into a ball or fold it into paper planes and make the trash his personal basketball hoop and see how many he can get into a row. Of course, he isn’t slick at all and ends up getting detention, having to clean all the classrooms after-hours but hey, he got a smile and laugh out from his friends. 

After that day, he’ll swear off his shenanigans and ‘clean up his behavior and act as a model student’. Only to return to his ways two classes later. Whoops!

✧. ┊ "𝒟𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝒫𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓃𝒾 𝒾𝓈???"

Deuce is the spitting image of the golden retriever, alert and focused during classes. But even he gets tired of the boring lessons and absent mindlessly will draw on his papers, acting surprised when he snaps back into reality and notices what he’s done on his research paper. He will pout before getting a new paper and start all over again, albeit with a new urgency as his teacher was already getting onto the next subject and he’s not gonna have all his notes down. Oh well, he can only hope that either Yuu or Ace has them written. 

Deuce in his past may have been a delinquent and act a fool in school, he’d since renounced his own actions and has worked to be a better person. That being said, he’s always the victim in the small pranks or being dragged along in another’s actions. For one, some people like to use his desk as a chair when having conversations with him or those around him, so anything he’s working on either gets crumpled or he’s forced to listen into whatever this person has to say. Another thing is that Deuce is really gullible so he will believe anything someone says, mentally coming up with a reasonable excuse as to why it would be so. Hence being the butt of too many jokes surrounding his cluelessness. 

Something that deuce does is be a bother without noticing. Often, he’ll catch himself muttering to himself, trying to process his thinking but because he has a complicated way of thinking, he not only confuses himself but those around him who only can sit and suffer through his ridiculous thinking. You can not cheat off of Deuce because he doesn’t even know if he’s answering the questions right. At the end, he thinks he does well but those around him know that he might have just failed the entire course because nothing he said made sense. Deuce doesn’t know how to keep his thoughts to himself, it seems. 

Deuce does his best to attend his classes and excel in what he feels confident in, he won’t return to his old ways.

✧. ┊ "𝒪𝒽 𝑔𝑜𝒹, 𝐼'𝓂 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝒾𝒹𝒾𝑜𝓉𝓈."

Like a lone wolf, he takes pride in spending as much time in his courses to stand alone or rarely being seen with others from the same dorm. Jack is an observer in a lot of his class’s shenanigans, but he will stand up and stop anybody who takes things way too far.  Honestly, the amount of times he’s seen someone pull some stupid stunt only to be hurt or scolded and made an example to the class is far too many. He may be surrounded by idiots but he knows when to step in before a certified adult does. He does care, but likes only a little bit.  

Once you get to know him, you’ll find that he’s a rather good listener. While his classmates goof around, he pays attention to a lot of the little things people would miss. That table the boys are sitting on has a loose screw on one of the legs, or how the floorboards outside in the hall creak whenever someone important seems to be walking towards the classroom. He is the designated alert dog, the moment you see his ears twitch, everyone stares at him before sounding some kind of alarm that a staff member is coming and soon everyone is cleaning up and returning to their seats.

Sometimes, if he successfully answers a question or gets a really good score on an assignment that he’s been working really hard on, his tail will wag behind him. It truly does betray him cuz on the one hand, he’s so stoic on the outside and acts as if his passing grade is nothing, that it’s easy. But internally, he is just a giant happy puppy and is proud of himself. Pointing this out, he’ll tuck his tail between his legs and swear that it was their eyes playing tricks on them, that he doesn’t wag his tail. The remainder of class he’s embarrassed.

Jack isn’t the type to fool around, rather he’s very much the older brother who keeps an eye out for his fellow classmates even if he acts like he doesn’t care.

✧. ┊ "𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓁𝑒."

Epel can not keep his own thoughts in his own head, oftentimes leading to small arguments or even full out shouting matches. He is very blunt when outside of the supervision of Vil, never backing down from a fight if he’s involved. If he’s not involved, then he’s instigating a fight that Jack later has to break up. Epel just is known to blurt out some nonsense and everyone just has to have a say on it, it’s rather hilarious if you think about it, even more so if he does so with his thick country accent instead of the polite one. 

When he’s bored, he’ll be fiddling around with his hands like flipping his eraser on the desk, another doodler but on the desks. His worst habit is when he takes out a small pocket knife and starts carving his pencil or anything he can get his hands on. There was an incident where in potions class, he was carving into some root plant he needed to use for class and had the worst time having to part with it. Crewel had to force it out of his hands and threw it into the cauldron while he started in despair. 

If he’s not roughhousing or jumping around his seat, then he could find himself getting into a deep conversation with his seatmate. He finds himself rambling about some childhood story of his and beginnings oversharing. But because he’s from the country and raised by a large family who do all kinds of farmwork, his stories are interesting and people are drawn into his tales. Sometimes, he bonds with his boys because they share similar experiences before making plans to recreate stunts they did as kids, Epel more than thrilled to have something to do after class other than his practice with Vil. 

Epel likes to create drama for others, he likes watching the drama or even being hands first in the fray. But if word gets out to Vil that he’s misbehaving, he’ll kill everyone in that room and Jack can’t stop him.

✧. ┊ "𝒲𝒶𝒾𝓉 𝒮𝒸𝑜𝑜𝒷𝓎 𝒟𝑜𝑜 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝒷𝒶𝒹 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹? 𝒪𝒽 𝑀𝓂 𝒢𝑒𝑒! … 𝒮-𝒮𝒞𝒪𝒪𝐵𝒴𝒟𝒪𝒪"

Ortho is a special case in that he’s attending his brother’s classes in his stead. But his classmates do like Ortho, some seeing him as a really nice kid so they always are inviting him to things. He loves to be included in projects, being a really big help to the students and never wanting anything in return; really he is such a sweet bean. It’s rather unfortunate that he picks up some of his classmates' bad habits like cursing and sudden outbursts. But Ortho will just get a light scolding later from Idia who monitors his behavior. 

Similar to Jack, Ortho doesn’t really fool around in class and rather keeps an eye out for everyone. If someone needs help with their homework, he’s more than happy to lend a servo and guide them through it. He’s an intelligent lifeform, of course he can browse the web for the right information but of course, he shows them how instead of giving them a straight answer. But if someone needs help and is being bullied in class, he’s not afraid to threaten the teens with a quick laser beam or two, leaving everyone screaming out apologizes and leaving the class sheltering for the worst, but he only does this as a joke. Someone then breaks it to him that these kind of jokes aren't really funny in a school setting. he'll have to ask Idia bout that later, apologizing for the scare. 

Since Ortho isn’t really a student, in courses where there is no need for him to attend like PE, he stands out and gets to run around. Adventure in the courtyard, visit the Monstro Lounge, even taking a quick pit stop in the library. He is always looking for something to do while school is in session, so he keeps a good eye out for anything that stands out. 

Ortho is nothing more than a sweet boy, so he is rather unaffected by most of the staff and student body.

✧. ┊ "𝒯𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝑒𝓍𝒸𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝑜𝓉𝓉𝓎 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽, 𝒮𝐻𝒰𝒯 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝐹𝒰𝒞𝒦 𝒰𝒫!"

Sebek is all no nonsense, should anyone dare to step out of line in his class, they will be quickly reprimanded. Clearly, he is very much engaged in the subject so he doesn’t want the teacher to be disturbed. However, what he doesn’t account for is the fact that he gets in trouble by merely speaking as he’s so loud and interrupts the class when he’s telling someone else to shut up. He apologies but he’ll not stop his evil glares towards those who dare threaten his education. 

While everyone is messing around, he could be found engaged with whatever paperwork he has left to finish or deep in a book he picked up from the library or gifted to him. While chaos ensues, he is minding his own business until he begins to grow annoyed and has to shout over everyone to shut it, frustrated by the amount of clear disrespect for the teacher and the classroom. He is the teacher's pet who can lift, should anyone dare to talk back they will get an earful from Sebek and his intimating aura. 

While he is very much studious and always on top of his assignments, because of his constant belief that he needs to be at the ready to serve his master, there have been times he’s slipped up. From leaving his homework in his dorm after running out in the morning to catch up with his companions to forgetting to meet up with his project mates for that upcoming presentation. He’s started piling up more failures on his part which he beats himself up about. He swears he’ll make it up and fix his issues, and he does eventually. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t keep making these mistakes, which no matter how many times you tell him that it’s ok to make mistakes, he will still take these to the grave. 

Sebek is very much a good student, really could be the top of his class if he tried. It’s just a matter of whether or not his classmates like him or not.

[yuna542]

[5.]

~The Greg Noll~

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader/Oc

Genre: Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Smut, Angst, Drama, Action

Warnings: Wounds, Banter, None

Taglist: Open

Word count: 2.5K

Summary: The Kook princess is back after a year and reignites the war between Pogues and Kooks on Kildare. But she quickly realizes that after this year, nothing is the same as before. Deception, secrets from the past, and dangerous conspiracies sweep across Kildare, leaving her no choice but to work with the Pogues and her personal nemesis to find the truth and maybe even $8 million. A dangerous treasure hunt begins that turns her world upside down.

Note: Hope you liked it till here. I would be very happy if you‘d write a comment or repost and let me know what you think. Have fun with the new chapter 🫶🏻

Soundtrack:

⏯️Play: Crash My Car by COIN

Walk in like a wrecking ball

The way she moves makes you miserable

All eyes on the golden girl

She's gonna tell ya, gonna tell ya

Fortunately, no one had been in the shed behind the hedge for years.

Not even the gardeners ventured into the unstable old shack. That was exactly why she had always liked to use that place as a hiding place.

Mom knew for a fact that Rick wouldn't bother to set foot in the dusty old ramshackle. The door creaked ominously and rays of sunlight shone through holes in the walls. It looked almost magical.

The smell of dust, wet wood, and earth rose to my nose.

The shed was empty except for a shelf on the wall.

Carefully, I stretched and groped on the top shelf.

I reached into cobwebs and contorted my face in disgust, but I didn't pull my hand back. Not that magical.

That's when I felt the fabric and got a hold of it. With a tug, I was able to grab it completely and pull it off the shelf. Dust swirled up in the bright rays of light, worsening my vision. Coughing I tried to drive the dusty air away from me.

However, all I could do was stare at the large bag in my hand. It was indeed still here.

I walked back out and placed the item upright in front of me. It was by now just a little taller than I was. Tensely, I searched for the zipper and opened it with bated breath. I looked at the surfboard in awe, stroking my fingers over the cool surface.

It looked exactly the same. The Greg Noll had been Mom's treasure. She had learned to surf with this board herself as a young girl and subsequently taught it to me.

The wooden color was crisscrossed by two bright red stripes that stretched across the entire board.

Immediately memories came up in me and my whole body longed for the sea and the high waves.

I only now realized how much I missed the surf trips with Mom. Even though we could only ever practice in secret, because I didn't want anyone to know about it.

It would be my personal downfall if the other Kooks found out that I was practicing a pogue sport and even liked it. Until I found out Topper surfed too and suddenly it was cool to do that...

But at the moment, I didn't care about those Kooks. I just wanted to feel as carefree again as I had only been on the waves.

So I unzipped all the way and jammed the board under my arm.

I looked around the street carefully and then stealthily turned into a sneaky path. A path that led from Figure Eigth directly to the Cut. It was a winding path through the woods, but it was fun to be so spontaneous and free again.

Rick would have torn me apart, but I didn't care at the moment. To him the reputation and the opinion of the others, especially the Island Club had always been more important than my interests and feelings. So I didn't have to consider his either. He wanted me to have good grates, go shopping, tan all day on the yacht or go golfing.

As I heard the surf already from afar, a ton of heavy weight fell from my shoulders.

The white bikini felt pleasantly warm on my skin and when I finally felt the sand under my feet, I automatically quickened my pace until I was running towards the water.

Once in the water, I swung myself onto the board and paddled out. The water cooled my heated skin and I welcomed the taste of salt on my lips like a lost friend.

The first attempts to catch a good breaker were really miserable and it took me forever to regain my balance, but that didn't make it any less fun. The waves weren't very practical today, barely any good barrels, but it was a liberating feeling to finally be back on the board.

As my legs were already shaking with exertion, I laid flat on the board and paddled along the coast. The sun was high in the cloudless sky and warmed my back.

I never wanted to get off the board again and would have loved to paddle around the whole island. At some point I reached the swamp at the Cut, where the paths on the water stretched out like a maze over endless expanses.

Here I had been only very rarely. It was too dangerous for a Pogue to see me there.

Nevertheless, I let myself drift a little and lay on my back. The familiar feel of the surfboard on my skin made me sigh.

The sun's rays shone in my face, making me close my eyes. I let my leg dangle off the board and enjoyed the cool breeze blowing over the water here.

I didn't know if I had been dozing like this for hours or if it had only been minutes, but my body was so relaxed that I could barely open my eyes.

Out here there was no Rafe yelling at me, no Kooks thinking I was the infallible princess, and no Rick condemning everything I did and taking his anger out on me.

Out here it was just me and the swamp. I could just be myself and breathe freely for the first time in days without that oppressive feeling on my chest.

That's when I felt a touch on my leg. Before I could react, a searing pain shot through my body and made me wince violently.

A scream escaped me and the burning evolved into a piercing sting.

I straightened up too quickly and lost my balance.

Panicking, I tried to hold on to the board, but that only made it worse. I toppled over and landed in the water. Gasping, I tried to pull myself back up, and that pain shot through me again, only this time below my shoulder blade, at my ribs.

I gritted my teeth and pulled myself back onto the board with the last of my strength. Panting heavily, I stared at my leg, which was already reddened.

Swollen wounds that looked like burns sat there and I didn't want to know what my back looked like.

Immediately I became angry at myself and wondered how I could be so stupid. I didn't know this area out here and hadn't even read up on jellyfish at this time of the year.

The pain pulsed under my skin and ate its way to my bones.

Seagulls flew overhead screeching loudly as if to mock me.

Now every movement cost an incredible amount of energy, as I had to fight against the drilling pain every time, so that I was exhausted after only a few minutes. Panting, I looked around, but the beach was too far away. Most definitely I wouldn't be able to make it.

I looked around on the water and thought feverishly.

Gradually, I could no longer stand the pain, so I headed for the nearest cove.

Between the dense deciduous trees on the shore was a small pebbly beach that seemed to lead to a sparsely populated area.

I must be somewhere in the middle of the Cut. Reaching the shore, I stumbled through the knee-deep water and dragged my board to the beach. There I laid it on the gravel and struggled up to the meadow behind the beach.

I needed to see where I was and then somehow get home without anyone seeing me.

This was going to be difficult as I could barely stand upright and my leg hurt with every step. The poison started to turn my stomach and I got sick. I looked around and spotted a small path that led to a run-down fishing shack.

In front of it were old ship engines and other junk everywhere that I couldn't name.

Next to the large hut was a smaller shed that must have been a workshop.

Where the hell had I ended up here?

I ran my hands through my hair, panting, trying to keep a clear head.

Fortunately, there didn't seem to be anyone at home who could catch me on their property. To be honest it didn’t look like someone should live in that torn down place anyway.

Now I looked at my leg more closely for the first time and cursed softly. Afraid someone might hear me.

The redness ran down my entire calf.

I would have a hard time hiding that. Immediately I wanted to keep walking, but the pain suddenly triggered dizziness, so I immediately sat down to avoid falling. I could feel the grass under my body and the throbbing on my shoulder had only gotten worse from the salt water.

Then suddenly I heard the rumbling of an engine behind the house. Then silence again. I just sat there and took a deep breath after another and tried with all my might to not throw up.

I couldn't lose control now.

"What has the tide washed up for me?" a taunting voice sounded behind me. I closed my eyes and wanted to sink into the ground as soon as I recognized him. I turned my head and spotted JJ holding a motorcycle helmet in his hands.

He was standing on the terrace of the house, placing the helmet on a plastic table. He must have come through the house to the terrace. So that meant he lived here.

With all the houses all over Kildare, I had to end up at Maybank, of all places.

„Fuck…“, I whispered before I looked at the sky to push the tears back. I kept silent, hoping that maybe he would just disappear, but it was in vain.

He was already coming down the creaking stairs and toward me. So I stood up and bit the inside of my cheek as pain shot through my limbs.

As he came closer, he seemed to recognize me, but not to believe his eyes. A toothpick was stuck in the corner of his mouth, which he casually removed for a moment.

"Diaz?" it escaped him incredulously as he took off his cap, ran his hand through his hair, and put it back on with the shield facing backwards.

"Believe me, if I had known this was your property, I wouldn't have...", I was already starting to justify myself, but at his smug grin, I fell silent.

"What the hell are you doing here, Kook?"

I was already thinking of countless possible lies that could explain my appearance, but his eyes fell already on the board behind me.

He walked past me and looked at it with shining eyes.

"Is that a Greg Noll?" he muttered incredulously, stroking the red stripes. As he did so, he shoved the toothpick back between his teeth.

"Unbelievable... It's in excellent condition. How did you get your hands on such a…“

Astonished, his gaze now wandered back to me and his expression became inquiring. I felt like a kid who had been caught stealing.

"You surf?" he asked with such an incredulous tone that it was starting to offend me.

"Every now and then," I muttered, since there was no point in lying now.

"I don't believe that... The Kooks' princess surfs like a pogue," JJ exclaimed, circling me.

I had a hard time following him, but I couldn't let him see my back. After all I didn't want any help from a pogue and besides, I was ashamed of my stupidity.

"If you tell anyone, you're dead."

Threateningly, I glowered at him, but he didn't make a face.

"No one would believe me anyway," he countered, taking a step toward me. I wanted to back away, but my leg hurt too much.

A soft gasp escaped me, whereupon the grin disappeared from his face. His gaze wandered searchingly over my features and he seemed to notice that I was studiously avoiding turning my back to him.

"What's wrong? You look like a ghost."

Sweat stood on my forehead and I was sure there was sand in the wound on my shoulder.

"Nothing," I pressed out, but the golden-haired didn't believe me.

He grabbed me by the arm and jerked me around. I almost cried out in pain, but bit my tongue at the last moment.

"Shit, did a jellyfish get you? Is that why you docked here? That looks terrible! It must hurt like crazy."

I turned back to him, wanting to scratch his eyes out.

"Yeah, obviously. Now leave me alone so I can finally get out of here."

He took a few steps back again.

"Do you even know how to treat a sting like that?"

He took the toothpick out of his mouth and flicked it away.

"I'll think of something," I hissed venomously.

He just raised his hands defensively and let me pass.

"I won't stop you."

Limping, I walked over to my board and tried to pick it up, but as soon as I bent down, the sting shot from my rib, over my shoulder, and into my chest, causing me to slump.

Before I hit the ground, however, he caught me and pulled me back to my feet by my waist.

"Are you sure you can do this by yourself? You can't even stand on your own. Those wounds should be treated before they get infected."

He looked at me and I expected him to laugh and scoff, but instead he really looked like he was worried. About me? Never.

Only for a tiny moment before he eyed me up and down and put on another smarmy grin.

Only now did I notice that he was still holding me in his arms. His hand was firmly on my hip and I was propped up against his chest.

Since he was only wearing an unbuttoned shirt that was way too big, I could feel his warm skin and his heartbeat right under my fingertips.

Angrily, I slapped his hand away and fixed him.

"And you want to help me or what?"

JJ just shrugged and buried his hands in the pockets of his pants.

"I could help you if you asked me nicely."

Provocatively, he looked me straight in the eye.

I was getting more and more irritated, and if I hadn't been hurt, I would have slapped him in the face long ago.

"Are you serious?", I snapped at him.

"You want me to get down on my knees and beg you?"

JJ grinned suggestively and raised his eyebrows. Immediately, I regretted my choice of words.

"Well, I definitely wouldn't mind you on your knees, of course."

He came closer again and clasped his hands behind his head.

"But for starters, a simple please will do."

Annoyed, I snorted, but I was beginning to realize that I did indeed need his help.

Even if I somehow got home, I wouldn't be able to fix myself up.

I couldn't let Sarah and Rafe know either, since Rick was home and that's where my cell phone was.

And I could never get to Figure Eigth alone in this condition.

Waiting, the Pogue looked at me and smirked in amusement.

"All right. Please help me," I pressed out, spitting out each word like poison.

He put his hands down and was now grinning broadly.

"There you go. Was that really so hard?," he replied, and without asking, slid his arm around my waist.

Perplexed, I clung to him as he simply lifted me bridal style and carried me up to the house.

As if I weighed nothing, he ran up the stairs and my face flushed with embarrassment. His defined abs were pressed tightly against my torso and I had to take my eyes off those sky blue eyes, before I would loose my mind.

© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[sumire-no-nikki]

Treasured Things

I had been reading since 5 am in my study on the day I took the photo of that bird perched on the tree. Bundled in fleece blankets, a candle lit, the world quiet. It was still pitch black outside when I started. By the time I took a short break from reading, the dark had been replaced by a glowing cold blue outside, typical of a cloudy autumn morning. It was chilly. It had been raining for days.

In that moment, a cascade of warblers came fluttering into view. I always thought that the wide window in that room is a living painting for sorts. That’s why I chose that room for reading in the first place. Watching the tree in the backyard go through the seasons is nothing short of art. So when I saw the birds landing on the tips of the branches right as I looked up, it felt so serendipitous. The sight compelled me to my feet. Slowly, I got up from my seat and walked to the window, as if any large movement might disturb this moment. It was a moment suspended. The birds didn’t stay perched for long. No more than a handful of seconds. It seemed like they were in a hurry. They had bird business to get to and bird acquaintances to meet, I gather. In the final second before the last of them flew away, I grabbed my camera and snapped the photo, keeping a tiny piece of the magic with me forever.

It’s just a bird. It’s just a random morning. The tree has been there all this time. Its leaves turn marigold every year before they are shed. What could be more mundane. Yet the picture feels so dear to me.

Here I am at the edge of a new month. October is so beautiful it’s always a shame to bid it goodbye every year. If I could I would keep it in a bottle. It’s a precious time, a beginning—the real deal after September’s false promises. For someone like me who revels in autumn and winter, October feels like a rebirth. It’s rather contrary to what’s going on outside. The green dulling to decay, trees in the process of losing their soft contours to give way to jagged edges. It’s a period of thinning.

I suppose that’s what got me thinking about the things I treasure in life.

Recently, I was organizing my closet, switching out my summer clothes in preparation for the colder months. While I was sorting it all out, I found this box which held all the letters a friend of mine has sent me in the past two years I’ve known her. A pair of socks and a pair of gloves she knitted for me in it as well. There were other parcels too, which included books and postcards and little other things. They are tucked away in my shelves, each one a token of her thoughtfulness and love. It gave me pause when I saw this box and thought about all it represents. I held the box in my hands. This reused cardboard box—it’s a work of art, proof of life.

And just the other day, I got a video message from another friend, their smile so infectious and so inspiring. I haven’t experienced such joy in a long time. I could watch that video over and over again. The tiny giggles, the look of surprise and wonder, even the awkwardness—I treasure it all. For all the ways I’ve complicated my life, it is that feeling that truly makes life worth it, I think. It is the simple pleasure of seeing someone I love be happy that fills my heart. And it echoes. It radiates. There is good in the world. So much of it. I felt renewed. It felt like I could take flight.

I say all the time that I’m thankful for this and that. I know I run the risk of overstating it, to the point of losing its meaning. But I like to always say it. It is a declaration of intention, it is the path and the goal I never want to lose sight of. It is an affirmation of where I am now, where I’ve been. My life didn’t always look like this. It could get worse, it could all fall apart, I might not have a tomorrow to wake up to. Nothing is ever guaranteed. While I can, I want to be recklessly grateful.

The cool wind is breathing life back into me. I am a creature of bare branches, accustomed to the cold and the depth of night. But I am not lonesome or hungry. When the land is bare and unable to provide, I am ready to give. I am at home in the cold only because I never have to worry about where to find my sustenance. It is in the company of those who see me. They fill my cup.

Here’s to November. Cool and collected November. Wholesome coffee, the familiar warmth of a cat on my lap. Moving reads, little miracles. Flowers in the vase, and heart shaped cakes.

I go into this new month with all these little treasures.

[seaseren]

Roevember Day 2: Roots

It wasn't often that time slipped away from Ameliance Leveilleur, but that day was one of those rare occasions. She had spent all day at various errands, mostly in her capacity as the keeper of House Leveilleur's coinpurse, and it came as quite a shock to her when she looked up to the sky to find that dusk had settled over the island without her notice. She started home in no great hurry- Fourchenault had already informed her he would be at the Rostra until quite late, and she quite enjoyed leisurely walks on quiet nights. She was nearly home when she saw it- a form in the grass next to the river, huddled against the far side of a building, staring up at the nascent night.

Ameliance cocked her head. Entlona was no unusual sight around Sharlayan these days- once the business with the Final Days was finished she had quickly occupied herself working with the Studium, with the Students of Baldesion, and even for Ameliance herself. That, in fact, was what was so concerning. Ameliance had come to know Entlona fairly over the past few months (at least, she thought she had!), and never once had she seen the girl so...idle.

...Well, it wasn't as if anyone was waiting for her at home. Ameliance stepped off the path home, picking her way across the uneven cliffside with grace until she was at Entlona's side. "Entlona?" she called out- then, with more force when the first call went unheeded- "Entlona!"

Entlona started, her glasses threatening to slip off her nose. Ameliance might has found the sight charmingly clumsy, except something was so clearly wrong. The look in her eyes was something- well, it was something Ameliance would expect to see on her husband's face.

"Oh, sweetheart," she said before she could stop herself. Careful not to let her dress get dirtied, she sat on the low wall Entlona was leaning against and laid a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "What's the matter? I've never seen you so...out of sorts."

It was a long moment before Entlona spoke, though she leaned very slightly into Ameliance's hand. "I...had an appointment that I was unable to keep, and I thought. While I was in the area. That I could...look at the stars. For... research purposes," she finally said.

Twelve bless the poor dear but it was obvious from the first word that she was lying and it only got worse from there. Still, Ameliance didn't want to make her uncomfortable by calling her out, so to speak. "What sort of appointment?" she asked instead. "I have quite a few contacts around Sharlayan-" quite the modest understatement!- "and I am sure I can help smooth over any misunderstandings!"

Entlona, the poor thing, actually squirmed a little, like a child facing down a tutor and explaining why their essay is mysteriously missing! There was a part of Ameliance- well, to be honest, a majority, and probably the same part that had always delighted in dressing her children in matching outfits- that was delighting in watching the normally stoic, self-confident woman so out of sorts. She would have to remember to feel guilty about that, at some point.

"It was a personal matter," Entlona mumbled- mumbled!- after a time. Ameliance knew how to deal with this sort of reticence. She simply nodded, kept her hand on Entlona's shoulder, and waited. It only took a few seconds of that before Entlona's head dropped, and she stared at the grass beneath her as she said, "...My grandparents invited me to dinner."

Oh. Ameliance had heard about the situation- among certain circles, it had been quite the topic of gossip after the excitement of the near end-of-the-world had died down. Around twenty-five years ago, the only daughter of two respected Studium professors had left to work on her thesis in Eorzea- and ended up joining a pirate crew. If that wasn't enough, she married and eventually sent word home that she was expecting, and that she wished for her parents to care for her child while she and her beloved continued to adventure across the sea. Except no child ever came, and nobody ever heard from the daughter again. They had given up all hope- but when the Scions of the Seventh Dawn had departed the Ragnarok before all of Sharlayan, they had taken one look at the tall Roegadyn being supported by two Elezen men and known instantly that she was their granddaughter. Though they had been unable to meet her then, they visited the Baldesion Annex every day until the good Students there agreed to facilitate a meeting- and there, Ameliance, supposed, they were.

It was hard to imagine Entlona Eifasaldwyn scared of anything, let alone dinner with a couple of retirees. Ameliance had to fight the urge to scoop her into a hug- she'd have to ask the twins, when able, if Entlona appreciated that sort of thing. "Is this your first time talking to them?" she asked, voice gentle. If Entlona had already had a bad experience she didn't want to push it- but Entlona shook her head.

"I...I just don't know what to say to them," she admitted, voice low. Heroically, Ameliance managed to keep her face straight. Entlona varied wildly between silent and chatterbox, veering between complete disengagement from conversation to total domination with the confidence of someone who had always just said whatever she wanted to say whenever she wanted to say it. That this was the situation she was unsure about, when her grandparents surely would be happy to hear anything, up to and including an hours' worth of speculation on Mhachi demographics or types of coral in the Rhotano Sea or Gridania's war against invasive beetles- but it took just a glance at Entlona's face to see how genuine these feelings were. Uncertainty looked so wrong on Entlona- but if there was one thing Ameliance had learned, it was that those who were the least used to the feeling needed the most support when it did visit them.

"You know..." she said, turning her gaze to the houses across the gorge as she rubbed Entlona's shoulder, "I have been meaning to get to know Professor Dennharrsyn and Professor Tofftylwyn. These might be a nice chance- if I could count on you to make an introduction?"

Entlona turned her gaze away from the ground and towards Ameliance, eyes narrowed slightly. Even Entlona, it seemed, was not socially oblivious enough to buy such a tale. Still- and with great apparent effort- she nodded. All of a sudden she stood, reminding Ameliance with a start that right, this girl towers over near everyone- but her expression was almost sheepish when she turned to Ameliance.

"Do you know their names? I forgot to write them down."

Ameliance could not stop the laugh, though thankfully Entlona didn't seem too discouraged. "Get that journal of yours out now," she said, already leading them away from the river and to the residential side of town. "It certainly won't do if you forget to write it down a second time!"

[moeblob]

Rice. From my plot that's literally just a game of chess. (he's a rook)

[bunnihearted]

🐇💭

[skrunksthatwunk]

why the fuck did i write about birds this fucking sucks. i just found out birds only sleep for a few minutes at a time, hundreds of times a day. do you know what this is going to do to my structure? the logistics of their road trip? this is already like three days late and i've been fighting for my life to get A Plot Like Any Plot That Makes Sense out and now the birds fucking sleep for 5 minutes at a time.

[angelnumber27]

my cat lost one of her fangs today